Alive.
Hidden inside the sensor payload strapped toKaz’s ship. The bastard rewired my body as a footnote—just another signal flare on a telemetry log.
I thrash hard.
The crate shifts.
Small sparks fly behind the panel above my head.
Loose wires.
Something hums louder.
That’s right, Stark, you didn’t gag me, you narcissistic freak. You wanted me tohearyou gloat. Wanted me awake. Conscious.
I slam my shoulder into the wiring. Again. Again.
Something pops.
Red light floods the container. An alarm starts chirping, soft but distinct.
I hear it on the speaker—Stark’s voice goes clipped.
“What the hell—she’s interfacing with the array. Shut it down! Get in there!”
No one's coming.
Because we’re already on the launch rail.
I hear the clank. The groan. The whine of the magnetic couplings engaging.
Stark’s breath crackles through the comms—erratic, close to the edge.
“No,” he snarls. “No delays. Override manual. Send it.”
“Sir, we haven’t?—”
“NOW.”
I scream.
“Don’t do this, you son of a bitch—Stark!”
He doesn’t answer.
I hear the ignition cycle lock in.
The floor beneath me tilts slightly. G-forces start to hum through the crate.
I push my forehead against the wall, trying to breathe, to focus, but my chest’s too tight. The walls too close. My body’s shaking, and it’s not fear this time.
It’s fury.
It’s heartbreak.
It’s the realization that I might die here, sealed inside a goddamn lie, without saying goodbye to my son—without ever telling Kaz the whole truth.
Another tremor.
