Page 113 of Tethered

“Ms Tharzal?”

I lift a hand in acknowledgement. “Linashae, please.”

One of my burner identities from my time on theRaat-Sarpa. I’d always felt guilty about keeping them in case of an emergency, but I’m glad I did.

They incline their head, blonde hair falling into their eyes. “I’m Nero; I brokered the sale of theHomebound. I have to say, it’s the fastest turnaround I’ve ever been expected to make.” Their lips curl into a well-practised grin. “Shall I show you around?”

“Nah.” I fake a smile, slipping into the personality I’d crafted for Linashae. “I’m on a tight schedule. Just tell me what I need to know and send the rest to me.”

They raise their eyebrows but don’t complain. Within the hour, Nero departs, and I’m left to explore my new ship. It smells like rust and mould, and it’s going to need a thorough clean, but it’s a step in the right direction. I look at the outdated interior of the bay, and I feel something settle in me.

I don’t get much time to ponder it, though, because suddenly a loud noise reverberates through the air. Banging. Someone’s banging on my fucking ship. I open up, preparing myself for an argument. It might be crappy, but theHomeboundis mine now, and I won’t have anyone putting more dents in her. But the words die on my lips when I see Devyaan, Khrys, and Beau standing on the other side.

They look furious.

“You are such a bitch,” Khrys snipes.

Beau laughs, deep and from the belly. “She’s had a few drinks, but she’s also not wrong.”

The galley is nowhere near as modern as they’re used to, but it’s big enough for all of us; the crew plus Maximus and Julian, who’d been waiting out of sight to board. I hadn’t realised just how much busier Red Horizon is in comparison to normal. With the station this active, the brothers can’t afford to be spotted by anyone.

We naturally gravitated towards the galley. It has a homey interior, and food prep will be hit and miss at first, but everything works.

I let my head thunk down on the surface of the dining table; an old, scratched but sturdy thing. The crew had convinced Julian to follow me from theMidas.Now here I sit before a veritable firing squad.

“I knew you were up to something. Didn’t I say, Beau? Didn’t I say the captain was up to something? A whole ship!”

Devyaan hands the redhead a steaming mug of coffee made from the dregs of an ancient can in the cupboard. She glares at him but downs half of it in one go. Her wince says all we need to know about how old the beans are.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Devyaan asks.

He’s the only one who hasn’t looked at me like I’ve betrayed him, but his body language gives away his disappointment. His arms are crossed and his expression blank, which is as good as a condemnation. The last thing I expected to face when I boarded theHomeboundwas all of my old crew with accusatory eyes.

“I wasn’t trying to hide it from you; I just didn’t want to drag you into this mess.”

“What mess?” Beau asks. “This have anything to do with what that old bitch said on the ship? About Marlowe?”

A sigh loosens my lips. “I bought theHomeboundso I could get Marlowe and Vee away from Mars before Gryphon could get his hands on them.”

The confusion ripples from one end of the galley to the other, and five faces stare back at me with bemusement.

“We know he’s a dick but...” Khrys says.

I tell them the truth and carefully watch the range of emotions bloom in response to Gryphon’s crimes.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Beau demands. Uncharacteristically, there’s no trace of humour in their voice or their face. “You should have told us.”

“His own son,” Maximus mutters.

“Marlowe is such a fucking badass,” Khrys says in wonder.

I clear my throat, trying not to drown in the multiple conversations starting around the room. “As long as you didn’t know, you had plausible deniability. It was for your own good.”

“So you bought a shipovernightto squirrel them away from Dominik?Gryphon?” Devyaan asks.

When he puts it like that, it sounds incredibly stupid. I shrug, because that is what I did. His expression softens then, and it’s too knowing, and it cuts me to the quick. “And she went anyway,” he says, not unkindly.

There’s nothing to reply to. What is there to say? Marlowe’s not here, and we are.