I toss the cap across the room. Miss the sink by a mile. It clinks against the floor and rolls under the bunk.
My fingers tighten around the glass. Whiskey burns down my throat, bitter and clean.
I should be stronger than this.
But hell if I don’t feel like a splintered wing caught in a tailspin.
A knock rattles the door.
I don’t answer.
Doesn’t matter.
Verzius kicks it open like the place owes him rent. His face is pale—no snark, no shade. Just raw, sharp-edged panic. I’ve never seen him like this.
He doesn’t wait for me to speak. Just strides over and slams his hand down on the desk beside me.
The screen lights up.
A message.
Three words.
He has me.
Everything in me locks.
“Where?” My voice is gravel. “When?”
“Twenty minutes ago,” Verzius says. “Straight from a blind channel. She’s got it piggybacked off old courier frequencies—military-grade, cloaked and scrambled.”
“And we just got it now?”
“Encryption. Took my system two passes to crack it.”
I stand. Fast. Too fast. The whiskey in my gut churns, but I push through it. “She’s underground. Stark’s got her in one of his vault labs or worse. She found something. Something big.”
Verzius nods once, curt. “She’s not just snooping. She’s bait.”
I’m already grabbing my flight jacket. “We don’t have time.”
He’s ahead of me, tossing me a weapons kit. “I’ve got armor prepped in my hab. You got gear in launch?”
I nod. “Standard recon—plate-reinforced.”
“We’ll need better.”
“We’ll make it work.”
I pause just long enough to swipe Dar’s toy ship off the nightstand. I don’t even think about it. Just shove it in my pocket like a talisman.
Then we’re moving.
We hit the launch bay fast.
The corridor lights flicker red—night cycle’s almost done—but everything feels like it’s on high alert.
Except it’s not.
