Page 7

T he plasma bolt singed past my ear, heating the metal wall behind me with a hiss.

I ducked behind a crate, clutching my blaster with white knuckles.

The air stank of burning metal and ozone, making my nose wrinkle.

The shadows danced around us as the emergency lights flickered, turning the Black Spikes into ghostly figures one second and invisible threats the next.

My heart hammered against my ribs. This wasn’t my kind of fight. I ran from trouble, not toward it. I’d spent years perfecting the art of slipping away unnoticed—not standing my ground.

Why the hell did I agree to this? One month of this insanity, and I’m already about to die.

I risked a glance at Korvan. He moved with brutal precision despite the dark stain spreading across his side. The wound hadn’t slowed him down much, but I noticed the slight hitch in his movements. Blood dripped between his gray fingers as he fired back at our attackers.

He’s bleeding, and he’s still going. How does he do it?

I fired a couple of shots to give myself cover, then ducked back down as return fire peppered the crate.

“We need to move!” Korvan called out, his back pressed against a pillar. “They have us pinned.”

I scanned the room, my brain racing. The Black Spikes had taken positions on the upper walkway. Three of them, maybe four. And by the sounds echoing down the corridor, more were on the way.

My stomach dropped. Korvan’s movements were growing stiffer, the injury clearly taking its toll. Each dodge a fraction slower than the last. I’d seen enough wounds to know when someone was running on borrowed time.

We wouldn’t survive unless I did something.

I spotted a stack of crates to my right. They formed a rough staircase up to the level where the Black Spikes had positioned themselves. If I could get up there...

“Cover me,” I shouted, not waiting for his response.

I broke from my position, sprinting low across the floor. Plasma fire erupted around me. The heat of a bolt brushed my shoulder as I rolled behind the first crate.

“What are you doing?” Korvan growled, providing covering fire.

I didn’t answer. No time. I scrambled up the stack of crates, using my smaller size to squeeze through gaps that would have stopped Korvan cold. My boots slipped on the metal surface, but I kept climbing.

A Black Spike noticed me just as I reached the top. He swung his weapon toward me, but I was faster. My first shot caught him in the throat and he went down without a sound.

The second mercenary turned, his face twisted in surprise beneath his visor. My second shot wasn’t as clean—it clipped his shoulder. He stumbled back but stayed upright, raising his weapon.

I rolled aside as his shot blasted the crate where I’d been standing. From my new position, I had a clear shot at his unprotected neck. I didn’t hesitate.

Two down.

My new vantage point gave me a clear view of the remaining attackers. “Korvan! On your left!”

He spun, almost faster than I could track. The Black Spike who’d been trying to flank him didn’t even have time to react before Korvan’s claws sliced through the gap in his armor. The mercenary dropped, clutching his throat.

With the pressure momentarily relieved, Korvan surged forward, taking advantage of the opening, I’d created.

His movements were a blur of lethal efficiency.

One of the remaining Black Spikes tried to retreat, but Korvan was on him in an instant.

The mercenary’s weapon clattered to the floor, followed by his body.

The last one broke and ran. Korvan let him go, sagging slightly against the wall.

The storage room fell silent. The acrid smell of blood mingled with the burnt metal odor. I climbed down from my perch and rushed to Korvan’s side, anger and fear bubbling up inside me.

“You’re an idiot. You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

Korvan smirked, wincing as he pressed a hand to his wound. “And yet, here I stand.”

“Barely. Sit down before you bleed out, you stubborn bastard.”

To my surprise, he complied, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. His breathing came in short bursts, but his face remained impassive. Gray skin glistened with sweat, the orange tracery on his cheek standing out in stark contrast.

I knelt beside him and pulled a small medkit from my belt. All smugglers carried one—you never knew when a deal might go south.

“Let me see.”

Korvan moved his hand, revealing a nasty plasma burn that had cut through his armor and seared the flesh beneath. Not immediately fatal, but bad enough.

“It’s not as bad as you think,” he argued. “Vinduthi?—”

“I don’t want to hear it right now. Hold still,” I ordered, cleaning the wound with antiseptic. He didn’t flinch, though it must have hurt like hell.

I worked quickly, applying pressure bandages and sealing the wound as best I could. His skin felt hot under my fingers, different from human skin—smoother, tougher. My hands brushed against the edge of his markings as I secured the bandage.

“You didn’t have to help me,” he murmured.

I avoided his gaze, suddenly aware of how close we were. “I’m not heartless, no matter what you think of me.”

“I never thought you were.”

I looked up, caught off guard by his words. Red eyes watched me intently, their usual coldness softened. For a moment, the chaos around us faded away. The blood, the bodies, the burned metal—all of it receded until there was just us, locked in this strange moment.

Korvan reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. The gesture was so unexpected, so uncharacteristically tender, that I froze, momentarily speechless.

His fingers lingered near my cheek, warm against my skin.

I pulled back, breaking the moment. My heart pounded. I couldn’t blame the fight.

“Let’s just get the damn container and get out of here.”

I stood and offered him my hand. After a brief hesitation, he took it, pulling himself up with a grunt of pain.

“The container should be in the back room,” he said, his professional demeanor returning. “Through that door.”

We crossed the storage room, stepping over the fallen mercenaries. I kept my blaster ready, not trusting that we’d dealt with all of them.

The container sat on a reinforced table, exactly where it was supposed to be. Sleek and black, government-grade security locks running around its perimeter. Whatever was inside, it was valuable enough to kill for.

“Grab it,” Korvan instructed, standing guard at the door. “We need to move quickly. That runner will bring back friends.”

I picked up the container. Heavier than it looked, but not unwieldy.

“Ready?” I asked.

Korvan nodded, his eyes sweeping the room one last time. Despite his injury, he stood tall, shoulders squared, every inch the deadly hunter I’d first met. But something had changed. I’d seen beneath that cold exterior, if only for a moment.

For my part, the weight of what just happened settled in my chest. I’d fought alongside him instead of running. I’d patched him up when he was injured. And worst of all, I’d felt something when he touched me—something dangerous.

Just survive one month.

But as we walked back through the outpost, the container tucked securely under my arm, I wondered if survival was going to be as straightforward as I’d hoped.