Page 41 of Stars in Umbra (The Sable Riders #8)

A noisy pack of six men spilled in, debris trailing after them, kicked up from the dusty street outside.

The conversation died.

Locals stiffened on their stools, heads lowering, drinks clutched tighter.

A woman at the bar slid off her seat and disappeared into the back corridor.

Even the bartender hesitated, as if weighing whether to greet them or brace for impact.

The gang strutted in, bellowing their orders and pushing staff around.

Mo’s arm tightened around Rina’s waist.

She murmured near his ear, keeping her face straight. ‘Bullies. Why am I not surprised?’

One of the guards, lean, twitchy, with a manic gleam in his eyes, called out to another, ‘Oi, Sallo, you get the last batch of invites out for the party?’

Another one answered in a slurred snarl. ‘Yeah, yeah, weekend bash at the high house. Gonna be wall-to-wall caviar and courtesans. I got dibs on the pink-skinned twins from Mersa District.’

‘Gross,’ Rina muttered, her jaw ticking.

Mo’s neural comm clicked open with a thought.

Mirage, there’s an event at Thrall Estate. Is there any chance you can look into it?

Mirage’s utterance was dry, brisk, and efficient as usual.

Already on it. They’re bragging about a public-facing shin-dig that I’m cross-referencing against event vendor itineraries and guest lists. I’ll ping you if I find anything credible.

At the bar, the chaos escalated.

One of the guards slammed his glove down on the counter and whistled piercingly. ‘You deaf, girl? I said I wanted the house lager. With foam!’

The young waitress, just out of her teens, trembled as she set down a half-filled tankard.

The guard sneered and poured some of the ale over her apron. ‘Wrong again. Try not to cry this time, girly.’

Another guffawed, nudging his shoulder. ‘Maybe she cries better when she’s on her knees.’

Mo’s knuckles went white around his glass. Rina placed a calming hand on his thigh, her expression rigid.

Without warning, the dynamic shifted.

The front door creaked again, and three figures stepped into the tavern.

They prowled in with silence and auras that snaked through the air like the hum of a power core.

They were taller, broader, with penetrating eyes and tighter gear.

Mo spotted tactical armor disguised under plain synth jackets.

Their badges bore the same ‘twin blades coiled in a serpent’s mouth’ insignia as the six kinais already in the inn.

However, their stance made it clear that they weren’t part of the circus act.

The laughter at the bar petered out.

The first group of loudmouths turned, their expressions falling.

The leader of the three was dark-haired and handsome, with silver flecks in his sculpted beard.

One ear featured a polished obsidian communication implant, and he spoke in a tone that was both timbred and firm. ‘That’s enough.’

The younger wardens stiffened. ‘Just having a bit of fun, sir.’

‘You’re not here to ‘have fun.’ You’re here to represent Thrall Estate.’

His growl came across as measured, cold as water on steel. ‘I catch you acting like this again, you’ll be reassigned to perimeter patrol on the sulfur flats. Understood?’

He got rewarded with grumbles, nods, and forced salutes.

The waitress slipped away while she could, trailed by the chastened men.

Mo narrowed his eyes on the threesome capable of shifting the energy in the room.

‘Those kinais ,’ he murmured to Rina, jerking his chin in their direction. ‘They’re a different breed, definitely senior, more freakin’ dangerous.’

The trio moved with confident strides, broad-shouldered, their faces hard and their jaws set. Their body language screamed military, not just trained, but tempered by experience.

These were not the kind who followed. The were men who commanded with cold precision.

Mo leaned in, his voice a rasp against Rina’s ear. ‘See those handguns? The leader’s packing a Colt Archangel. It features plasma rounds and a DNA-coded grip. That piece isn’t sold, it’s auctioned.’

Her gaze flicked to the others.

‘Left one’s got a Zarien V90, Sartixian elite issue, rare as fokk . I also note that the third carries a Rivenclast Echo-Twin, a dual-discharge, armor-shredding weapon. Black ops only.’

Rina gave a subtle nod. ‘So they’re bigwigs, leaders, freakin’ alphas. I’m guessing they’re the ones with the kind of clearance we need.’

Mo exhaled. ‘Bingo. They’re our mark. Or rather yours, mi kaya .’

She glanced at him, brows lifted.

‘You’re going to have to charm yourself into their orbit,’ he drawled, teasing but with an undercurrent of solemnity. ‘I won’t fokkin’ like it but we have little choice.’

Rina took a moment, inhaled, then shifted.

Her posture softened, lips curved, and the sparkle in her eyes became sultry mischief.

‘You owe me one,’ she whispered.

He smirked. ‘I owe you everything.’

With that, she sashayed across the tavern floor, hips swaying, her long legs catching the attention of every man in the room.

She slowed at the trio’s table, brushed her fingers over the edge as if by accident, and leaned in.

‘Mind if I squeeze in? You three handsome gentlemen look delicious enough to nibble on. I’m bored. My date’s too drunk to hold a cue stick, let alone a conversation.’

Two of the men’s eyebrows arched in amusement.

The third, a sculpted-jawed sentinel with scars down his left cheek, glowered, trying to work her out.

She smiled, flipped her hair, and draped her wrist, with her comm hidden under bangles, over the edge of their table.

She bent down, giving them a generous view of her lacy bra-clad chest, to examine one of their drinks.

‘Is this the best brew? Or well-labeled swill?’

In her neural feed, Mirage’s voice buzzed. ‘Steady. I’m in. Keep them distracted.’

For several tense moments, Rina tossed her head, pouted just so, and held their gaze. But the leader was too clued in to fall for her schtick.

He reached for her arm and gripped, not too hard to bruise, but enough that she’d have trouble tugging away.

‘What exactly are you playing at, woman?’ he growled.

Rina froze just as Mo came staggering over, cursing loudly and sporting a flushed expression.

‘There you are!’ he boomed, wrapping a protective hand around her waist. ‘Running off again. What did I say about making me jealous, baby?’

Rina’s resulting laugh was high-pitched but convincing. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, honey,’ she said, allowing herself to be pulled against his massive frame. ‘I was just having some fun.’

Mo glared at the trio. ‘No hard feelings, brothers. She’s got a wandering eye, but she’s mine.’

The three men stared at him, weighing him up.

Mo’s colossal size, his guns, presence, and wild, part-drunk, on-the-edge-of-violence glower gave them pause.

We’re good , Mirage announced. I’ve got what I need.

About fokkin time , Mo growled into their neural link. Shit’s about to go off.

He guided Rina away, stumbling, pressing kisses to her mouth while chiding her at the top of his drawling slur.

Mo waved off a barmaid, paid their tab, then headed for the exit.

Outside, they half-staggered toward the battered flyer.

The trio followed them to the door, still suspicious, providing an unwelcome escort.

Mo turned back to them with a grin. ‘ Sante for the concern, boys, but flyer’s on auto. I can’t risk my J.O.B. at the mine flying drunk, now can I?’

He smacked Rina’s backside, and she squealed in mock indignation.

Their laughter echoed into the dusk as they climbed aboard and sealed the hatch.

The vessel lifted, veering up through the clouds even as Mo reviewed the holo cam’s live feed of the trio still glaring up at the rapidly disappearing craft.

Inside, Mo sobered, studying their faces on the viewscreen.

‘They weren’t mere guards,’ he rumbled. ‘Those three are fokkin ’ trained, displaying heightened awareness and tactical know-how. They walked and talked like snipers or elite mercs. They’re killers, no doubt.’

She arched a brow. ‘Hmm.’

‘Quiet ones. If Thrall’s putting them on estate detail -.’

He exhaled, eyes narrowing. ‘Then this just got real dark, real fast.’

Rina adjusted her seat, breathing out. ‘So if they’re working for Caidan -.’

‘Then there’s more to this story than we thought,’ Mo finished. ‘Much more.’