And I’m running out of ways to hide it.
CHAPTER 30
ALAINA
My compad buzzes against the counter like it’s pissed at me.
I’m wrist-deep in soap scum and mashed vegetable remains, trying to sanitize Caelix’s snack cups before he decides they’re weapons again, when it goes off. I let it buzz twice. Three times. I already know who it is. Only two people call me anymore—Jorla, and the hovercar dealership where Troka’s been playing salesperson like it’s an undercover war op.
I yank off the gloves and slap the answer key. “Yeah?”
“Ms. Southland?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Bren from Horizon Hover. Troka hasn’t shown up for three shifts.”
My breath hitches, but I keep my tone flat. “You call to make sure he’s alive or to fire him?”
A long pause. “...Both?”
“Great.” I rub my temple, biting down on a rising sense of panic that tastes like bile. “He’s not staying with me.”
“He listed your address as emergency contact.”
“Of course he did.”
Bren’s voice gets soft. “He was… off. The past few weeks. You know? Quieter. Sad eyes. Didn’t say much, but… the kind of silence that builds to something.”
Yeah.
I know that silence.
I’velivedin it.
I hang up without saying goodbye and stare at the wall.
“Damn it, Troka.”
I find him on the roof of an old refueling depot three blocks from the canyon ridge.
He’s not hard to spot.
Seven feet of brooding alien muscle draped across rusted-out cooling units like a fallen god trying to forget he ever stood upright.
There’s a bottle cradled against his thigh. Half-empty. Maybe more.
“Drinking again?” I call, loud enough to echo.
He doesn’t turn.
Just mutters, “Thought the stars might tell me something tonight.”
“And?”
“They lied.” He takes a swig, jaw tight, golden eyes locked on the sky like it insulted his mother.
“Figures.” I climb the last rung of the maintenance ladder and plant my hands on my hips. “You gonna explain why you’re ghosting your job or should I guess?”
