Page 44 of Stars in Umbra (The Sable Riders #8)

Rina didn’t flinch. ‘Then perhaps I’ll be your first.’

He leaned in further, lips grazing her cheekbone like a threat disguised as affection. ‘I think you’ll find resistance a waste of your time. See, when I spot something I like, I acquire it.’

‘Not a surprise,’ she clipped. ‘I’ve heard you’re a man who uses ruthless means to control what he wants.’

‘Have you now?’

She was about to lose her cool when a sudden tremor ran through the air, followed by panicked screams.

Outside the front gallery, a sleek silver flyer spiraled and twisted in the air.

It plummeted in a chaotic arc before slamming nose-first into the manicured front courtyard with a blinding flash and a loud, metallic boom.

Shards of carbon steel and smoke plumed skyward.

Guests scattered, crying out in alarm. Security surged forward, shouting into their comms, weapons drawn, and fanning out in a controlled formation.

Thrall froze.

A guard rushed up to him. ‘Sir, your presence is required. One of the diplomatic flyers lost control. It may be a possible case of engine sabotage. Civilian casualties are minimal, but the press is circling.’

With a vicious curse, Caidan released Rina’s arm.

‘This conversation isn’t over,’ he snapped, before striding toward the chaos, his dark coat flaring behind him like the wing of a predator.

Rina exhaled hard, stepping into a quiet alcove, each part of her body alert and shaking.

Mirage, she said through the neural link, you absolute legend.

Crashing flyers isn’t my thing, the synth AI replied dryly, but I do what I must.

Rina. Mo’s voice came next, deep, ragged, angry. I caught every second of that exchange. He touched you, he fokkin’ tried -.

Calm down, Molan, she replied, pressing her palm against her abdomen to center herself. ‘I’ve got this.

I’m about to rip him in two.

Her lips curved. Then wait till I’ve painted the target on his chest.

Under the cover of swirling smoke and alarmed guests, Rina slipped out of the ballroom.

Her steps were silent, her gown flowing behind her with deceptive elegance.

Mirage’s voice guided her through the neural link, serene and composed despite the chaos she’d just orchestrated.

‘Up the central staircase,’ Mirage murmured. ‘East wing. Third door on the left. That’s where his private study is located. Keep an eye out and work fast.’

Rina crossed the marble foyer, heels making a sound, ascending the grand flight of stairs beneath a canopy of gilt-framed paintings and flickering chandeliers.

Her stomach was knotted as she assessed corners, rooms, and corridors for Thrall’s sentinels or a sudden ambush.

At the top of the stairs, a guard rounded the corner, too fast for subtlety.

They collided.

He blinked once, just once, as she struck.

A swift palm to the throat, a twist of his wrist, and the constriction of his airway, and he collapsed without a sound.

She dragged him into a linen cupboard, stripped his access lanyard, and locked the door with a smooth magnetic override from her gauntlet.

Seconds later, she stood before the double doors of Caidan’s study.

She pressed the stolen pass against the sensor, and the door whooshed open with a soft pneumatic hiss.

The room was what she expected: opulent in a cold, masculine way.

Antler chandeliers, dark timber shelves lined with first editions and antique blades, a burning fire behind a steel-meshed grate.

However, her focus was on the obsidian safe built into the stone wall.

Mirage?

Already prepared. When he scanned you earlier, I ran a mimic calibration program of his retinal signature. Hold still.

A pulse of light swept her iris, and the locked box clicked open.

Inside was a slim black data cube, engraved with a red sigil she didn’t recognize, and a leather folder of hand-written papers in Thrall’s neat, spidery script.

She snapped photos and slid the matte cuboid into her clutch bag.

Got it.

In the Corvette, Mirage’s systems devoured the files, decrypting with rapid-fire precision.

Holy shit, the synth AI murmured.

What is it? Rina asked.

Thrall’s funding The Stygian Corp. He’s the shadow architect behind them.

‘Stygian?’ Mo’s growl cut in.

Mirage didn’t hesitate. I’ve conducted a quick analysis across Sysnet and DarkNet and verified it against the data cube.

Turns out Stygian is the group that abducted you on LeCythi, Mo, and indoctrinated you.

Perhaps they also implanted you with that command override node.

The symbol on that node matches the one on the data cube.

So it would seem Thrall’s not just a power broker, he’s behind the organization that controlled you, Mo.

I can also see that Stygian experimented on you and extracted your DNA in secret lab trials - to what end is not clear.

The silence that followed crackled with restrained rage.

Rina, Mo snarled, his tone like steel cooled too. Leave. Now. You don’t know what Stygian is capable of. They don’t just kill. They erase. They own black cells in six systems and use children turned adult assassins like me to do their dirty work.

Rina exhaled. Mo, I’m not leaving.

Fokk! His roar slammed through her neural node, not wild but deadly controlled. Cold, commanding, terrifying. Trust me for once, woman.

She froze, the echo of his words slamming into her chest with the force of a command. Her skin prickled. Her back straightened.

Damn, she almost saluted. Her mouth quirked, and her eyes lit up.

Then come and get me, baby, she whispered.

She headed to the door to the study, her pulse racing.

The wail of alarm fractured the silence like a blade splitting glass. Rina froze, every nerve in her body going taut as the corridor outside erupted in the clatter of boots and shouted commands.

The secure door before her burst open with violent force.

Caidan strode in, his eyes glittering, catching the light like a predator’s gleam.

A phalanx of personal guards moved in behind him, their weapons trained on her, ready to fire at the first sign of threat.

His gaze found her at once, clocking her position in the room, her posture, his eyes flitting to the safe, which was shut, giving nothing away.

His stare narrowed.

Her face betrayed nothing. She inhaled to control her breathing as he advanced.

‘I lost my way,’ she said, as if she believed it. ‘Too many corridors. Your estate is delightful, but what a labyrinth.’

Caidan didn’t smile. Instead, he came toward her in a slow, deliberate prowl, eyes unreadable, utterance turning glacial.

‘The guard you mislaid your way past is unconscious in a supply cupboard.’ He circled her now. ‘I’ve got heat signature cameras outside my office. They paint the picture of a charming artist, wandering into my office, accessing my private vault.’

He stopped before her, close enough that she could scent the expensive cologne undercut by a hint of gun oil. His voice dropped, cold and precise.

‘The game’s over, Miss Malvern, or whoever the fokk you are. Do you have any idea what I do to those who infiltrate and desecrate the sanctity of my sanctuary?’

His hand rose, slow as a tide, and wrapped around her neck.

‘Who sent you?’ he demanded, his fingers tightening. ‘The Dunian government, the Sable Riders?’

Her pulse jumped against his grip.

She was seconds from snapping his wrist and launching her knee into his ribs when a shattering crash split the room.

Glass exploded inward as a streak of motion tore through the study’s tall window.

Her knees weakened when she sighted Mo.

Clad in full Sable Rider armor, matte black with dark-gold inlays glowing from active core channels, he moved like a specter forged of fire and vengeance.

Before anyone could aim, he fired with lethal precision.

Two guards dropped before their weapons even cleared their holsters. A third reached for a neural flasher and took a bolt to the sternum.

Chaos ignited.

Caidan released Rina in shock, whipping out a firearm, spinning to aim.

Mo was already moving, sliding shoulder-first and deflecting a plasma round with his bracer and returning fire in a clean, controlled arc.

The last guard crumpled with a grunt.

Rina didn’t hesitate. She yanked her gown’s side seam, revealing the slim armored plate Mirage had sewn in.

Mo tossed her a Sable chest rig, magnetic clasp whirring as it sealed over her torso.

Caidan shouted, raised his barrel, and fired.

She heard the hiss of the weapons burst an instant before it hit, but Mo slammed into her, dragging her close and pressing the activation button on her chest plate.

Her nanite-infused dress formed into an armored suit, wrapping her limbs and torso. A stealth cloak then shimmered over her.

She disappeared.

Caidan cursed and shot again. Mo’s suit flared, catching the edge of the blast.

He gave a feral growl, but didn’t stop.

He vaulted over the study’s desk, arm hooked around Rina’s now-invisible waist.

A bolt smashed into the fireplace. Debris rained down as Mo ratcheted backward through the shattered window, his propulsion boots igniting.

They flew into the freezing Highland night, with alarms still ringing and gunfire at their rear.

The pair vanished into the mountain air, nothing more than shadow and wind.

Leaving Caidan Thrall screaming in fury behind them.