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TRAZ

G limner’s poison doesn’t hit you in the lungs—it settles in your bones.

The Spine rises like a scar in the middle of it, all jagged metal and gleaming ego. Petru’s fortress hasn’t changed—still trying too hard. Security cameras like spider eyes, armed guards itching for movement. Doesn’t matter. They know who I am. I don’t knock. I walk in.

The guards don’t speak. One of them twitches like he wants to. Thinks better of it.

Good choice.

Inside, it’s hotter. Louder. The bassline of a synth band I don’t recognize thumps against the walls like a pulse trying to escape. Lights dimmed just enough to pretend it’s atmosphere, not just hiding the filth.

I know the way.

They’ve dressed the place up tonight—gold trim on the doors, draped banners of black with the Bleached Skull emblem stitched in bloodred thread. Subtle as a blaster shot to the chest.

The Lounge opens ahead, and Petru is exactly where I expect him—on his mock-throne, drink in hand, surrounded by orbiting flattery. His grin widens when he sees me.

“Traz. You glorious bastard.” He rises like he’s welcoming a god.

“Petru.” I nod once, keep walking. “You’re still breathing.”

“Thanks to you.” He laughs too loud. “You never disappoint.”

He doesn’t offer his hand. Smart man. We’ve worked together long enough to skip the pageantry. Instead, he tosses a signal to a server, and a drink lands in my hand before the blood on my boots is dry.

“Join me,” he says, gesturing to the private booth beside his elevated seat.

I follow. Might as well see what tonight’s bribe looks like.

We sit. Music blaring below, conversation buzzing like flies. The booth dims around us, privacy screen flickering up with a faint hum.

“I heard it was clean,” he says.

“It was.”

“Did he beg?”

“He blinked.”

Petru chuckles. “You always did know how to send a message.”

He leans in, voice dropping like we’re in on a secret. “This senator... He thought he was untouchable. Thought he could put chains on Kiphian trade, like we’re pests to be exterminated. Idiot didn’t realize he was chewing glass.”

“Now he’s choking on it.”

His eyes gleam. He loves this part. The talking. The gloating. Like the kill was a political masterpiece instead of a quick job in a dark room.

That’s when the curtain behind us rustles and someone steps in.

Silpha.

She’s aged, but not soft. Lines around her mouth like they were carved with a blade, sharp eyes always calculating. She wears administrative grays, unadorned, like armor against the nonsense her brother cloaks himself in.

“Traz,” she says, cool as ever.

“Silpha.” I nod once.

“You’re late,” she says to Petru.

He waves her off. “We’re celebrating.”

She doesn’t look at me. Not directly. But I can feel the way her eyes linger. Measuring. Judging. Like she’s still not sure what category to put me in—tool or threat.

She leans toward her brother. “The vaults need review. You’re three shipments behind on rotation and the workers are starting to?—”

“Later,” Petru says, waving a jeweled hand. “I have a guest.”

“I’m aware.” She shoots him a thin smile. “You usually bring out the wine when you’re feeling nervous.”

He scowls. “Don’t ruin the mood.”

“I’d never dream of it.”

She turns and walks away without another word.

Petru watches her go, expression unreadable for a moment.

“Useful, but joyless,” he mutters. “That’s Silpha. She runs numbers like a droid and has the charm of a cold knife. But I suppose that’s what you get when you promise your dying mother you’ll keep your baby sister safe forever.”

I say nothing.

Petru finishes his drink. “She’s been tense lately. Worrying about the books, the shipments, power balances. She forgets sometimes that fear is the only currency that matters out here.”

I finish mine in one swallow. “That why you called me back?”

A flash of something darker moves through his eyes. “Partly.”

He pours us both another round, and I can feel it—that shift in the air. The moment before a deal changes shape.

He’s building up to something.

And it’s not just about money.

Petru refills our glasses, but I don’t touch mine. He leans back, appraising me like he’s working up to a punchline.

“You know,” he starts, “you’ve always been efficient. Reliable. Not much for indulgence.”

“Shouldn’t have to bribe a man you trust.”

He grins like I told a joke. “It’s not a bribe, Traz. It’s a reward. A celebration. And maybe a... proposition.”

There it is.

He signals to someone just outside the booth. I hear the soft shhhh of the curtain, the faintest footsteps. I don’t look yet. I already know what this is. He’s played this card before, just not like this.

Then Petru stands.

“Gentlemen like us,” he says loud enough to be heard past the curtain, “we deal in blood and power. But sometimes... sometimes beauty is the highest form of wealth.”

He gestures grandly, and I finally turn my head.

And there she is.

Kelli.

Draped in silver that clings like smoke. Pale hair shining under the dim lights. Eyes like frost cut with steel. Still as ever. Silent.

I’ve seen her before—kept on Petru’s arm during high-stakes meetings like she was part of the decor. Never spoke. Never smiled. Just stood there, a breathing trophy. The human. Petru’s pure one. Rumors followed her like scent trails—virgin, unspoiled, bred in captivity like a prize hound.

She looks different tonight.

Sharper. Tired maybe, but not wilted. There’s heat beneath the quiet. Fire that hasn't been snuffed, just banked for survival.

Petru spreads his arms toward her like a game show host revealing a grand prize.

“This,” he says, “is Kelli. The jewel of my collection. Human. Untouched. A symbol of prestige. Every man in this sector has begged for a night with her.”

He leans closer to me, his voice dropping again. “I’ve refused them all. But for you... tonight, I make an exception.”

My stomach knots, slow and cold.

“You’re offering her to me?”

“Not offering.” His grin turns cruel. “I’m giving. A token of my gratitude. She’s yours for the night.”

I glance back at her. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. But her eyes meet mine—and now, there’s something there. Not fear. Not hope.

A test.