Page 22

TRAZ

T he walls feel tighter every day.

Like the whole damn city’s shrinking around us, one crumbling block at a time.

Kelli moves quiet through the safehouse, but even she can’t hide the way she flinches every time a shout echoes outside or a hoverbike screeches past the broken windows.

The kids feel it too.

They're quieter.

Eyes always darting to the door.

Waiting.

Worrying.

Same as me.

I pace near the window, checking the street below for the fifth time in ten minutes.

Nothing but shadows and scavengers.

For now.

A soft knock rattles the back door.

Twice, pause, once.

The signal.

I motion to Kelli to stay back, blaster drawn.

She nods, tucking Aria and Joren behind her.

I open the door fast, knife in one hand, blaster in the other.

Silpha stumbles inside, looking worse than I’ve ever seen her.

Face hollow.

Eyes wild.

Hands shaking.

She slams the door behind her and leans against it like she’s holding back the whole damn planet.

"Traz," she rasps, her voice shot to hell. "We got a problem."

I grab her elbow and steer her toward the table before she falls over.

Kelli’s already moving, setting a cup of water in front of her.

"Talk," I bark.

Silpha takes a long gulp, coughing rough.

Then she slams the cup down so hard it cracks.

"Petru’s lost his godsdamned mind," she croaks.

I narrow my eyes.

"Define lost."

She drags a hand through her matted hair.

"He thinks you sold him out," she says, voice raw. "To Voltan’s crew."

Kelli stiffens across from me.

"Voltan’s dead," I snap.

Silpha lets out a broken laugh.

"Doesn’t matter," she spits. "Petru’s convinced you're working with someone. That you’re building an army to come back and gut him."

I grind my teeth so hard my jaw pops.

"Stupid bastard," I mutter.

"Stupid and dangerous," Silpha hisses. "He’s torturing anyone who so much as looked sideways at you. Shaking down half the city."

Kelli’s face goes pale.

"What about..." she starts, voice breaking.

"The twins are still off his radar," Silpha says fast. "But if he keeps tearing through the streets like this, it’s only a matter of time."

I slam my hand down on the table, rattling the cracked plates.

"Damn it."

"He’s offering a bounty now," she adds. "On you. On Kelli. On the kids."

The room drops into silence.

Thick.

Suffocating.

Kelli leans back against the wall, arms wrapped tight around herself.

The kids peek out from the bedroom door, sensing the tension even if they don’t understand the words.

I force myself to breathe slow.

Steady.

Think.

"How much?" I grind out.

Silpha gives a hollow laugh.

"Enough to make desperate men do stupid things," she says. "Enough that nobody’s safe anymore."

I nod once.

Processing.

The clock just started ticking faster.

We don’t have a week.

Hell, we might not even have a day.

"You holding up?" I ask, studying her.

Silpha’s mouth twists.

"I’m fine," she lies.

The dark circles under her eyes say different.

The tremble in her hands says louder.

She’s burning herself out trying to keep us alive.

Kelli moves forward, grabbing another cup, filling it, forcing it into Silpha’s hands.

"Drink," she says, no patience in her tone.

Silpha glares at her but drinks anyway.

"I can keep feeding you updates," she mutters between sips. "But it’s getting harder to move without eyes on me."

"We need to hole up," I say. "Stay buried until the freighter docks."

Silpha nods, hollow.

"Yes," she whispers. "If we make it that long."

Silpha slumps against the wall, drained, breathing rough.

We all do.

Nobody says it, but the weight of what’s coming crushes down on us, making the air thick, too heavy to breathe.

The kids shuffle back to their pallet in the corner, curling up small under the worn blankets.

I check the locks again, triple-check the weapons, every move automatic.

Kelli watches me the whole time.

Silent.

Sharp.

When I’m finally done pacing, I lean against the door, scrubbing a hand over my face.

Bone tired.

Nerves fraying.

She crosses the room slow, arms wrapped around herself like she’s holding something fragile inside.

I straighten.

Ready for a fight.

Ready for anything.

Except the look in her eyes.

Soft.

Strong.

Unbreakable.

She steps close enough that her breath brushes my chest.

Lifts her chin to meet my eyes.

"You didn’t have to stay," she says, voice hoarse and raw. "You could've walked away again. Would’ve been easier."

I grunt.

"Would’ve been wrong."

She smiles—small and sad and beautiful as hell.

"You’ve changed," she says, studying me like she’s memorizing every scar, every crack.

I shake my head.

"Just finally woke the hell up."

Her hand lifts.

Brushes my jaw.

Callused fingers tracing the line of my cheekbone, soft and sure.

"I trust you," she says.

Simple.

Devastating.

No hesitation.

No fear.

My chest feels too small for everything trying to rip through it.

I catch her hand, pressing my mouth against her knuckles, holding on like a dying man to a life raft.

"I’m not gonna let you down," I rasp.

"I know," she whispers.

And in that moment—against all odds, against all the blood and dirt and broken promises—we're a family.

A real one.

Stronger than anything hunting us.

Stronger than fear.

Stronger than fate.

I pull her close, wrapping her tight against me.

She buries her face in my chest, breathing me in like she’s claiming me all over again.

I rest my chin on her head, breathing her right back.

We don't say anything else.

We don't have to.

Not tonight.

Tonight, it’s enough just to stand together.

Alive.

Fighting.

Home.