Somewhere above me, metal groaned as a structure shifted, settling into a new configuration of instability. The sound echoed through the city like a warning, reminding methat nothing here was stable, nothing was safe, and survival was always temporary.
Three days.
My life had just gotten a lot more complicated.
Chapter 3
Merrilee
The Alliance ship shuddered as it entered Palaydium's atmosphere, and I gripped the edge of the metal bench hard enough that my knuckles went white. Around me, a dozen guards stood at attention, their faces impassive behind their helmets, weapons held with the casual competence of people who'd done this a thousand times. They were here to sell the illusion—that I was a prisoner, a spy caught red-handed, being sent to rot on a prison planet because Alliance law forbade executing humans.
The irony wasn't lost on me.
The Prime's words echoed in my mind, spoken in that conference room what felt like a lifetime ago. "Hewes is on Palaydium. The prison planet hasn't hindered him. He's made arrangements with the local power structure and is running the slavery enterprise from there. But he's trapped, Merrilee. He can't leave without exposing himself to Alliance forces."
I'd asked the obvious question. Why not just send in a strike team? Why not orbital bombardment? Why not use any of the hundred ways the Alliance could eliminate a single human trafficker hiding on a prison planet?
Her answer had been simple and brutal. "Because Hewes has connections. Leverage. If we move against him officially, itcould start a war. But if a disgraced spy shows up on Palaydium—someone with whom it has history. If that person were too kill him, it would be understandable and perceived as being out of Alliance control."
The plan was elegant in its simplicity. Hewes would seek me out—of course he would. He'd want to know what I'd told the Alliance, what I'd compromised, whether I was still useful or just a liability to be eliminated. And when the moment was right, I'd kill him.
Then the Alliance operatives already in place would extract me. I'd be taken off-world, returned to Earth, reunited with Ana and Sebastian. My life could finally begin again, free from Declan Hewes's shadow.
Simple.
Except nothing about this felt simple. Nothing about descending into a prison planet's yellow sky, surrounded by guards who looked at me like I was already dead, felt like it would work out the way the Prime intended. Not to mention, I'd never killed anything in my life, save for the errant spider.
And that was the crux of it, wasn't it? The Prime had chosen me because I had access, because Hewes would come to me. She hadn't chosen me because I was a killer.
I wasn't.
I was just someone who'd spent years justifying moral compromises by telling myself I was protecting my siblings, that I was just gathering information, that I wasn't really responsible for what Hewes did with it. I'd been very good at not looking directly at the blood on my hands.
But this? This required me to look. To act.
Could I do it? Could I look into Declan Hewes's eyes—those cold, calculating eyes that had smiled at me across conference tables while he destroyed lives—and end him? CouldI feel his pulse stop beneath my hands? Could I watch his light fade and know that I was the one who'd extinguished it?
The thought made my stomach turn, but beneath the nausea was something else. Something darker. The memory of Ana's and Sebastian's faces as Hewes described what he'd do to them if I didn't cooperate. The years they'd lost, the innocence they'd sacrificed, all because of one man's greed and cruelty.
The capacity for violence, for finality. It was there—it had to be there. Humans were capable of terrible things when pushed far enough, when everything they loved was threatened. I'd already proven I could betray my principles to protect my siblings.
Killing Hewes would just be one more betrayal. One more line crossed.
The last one, I promised myself. After this, no more compromises. No more blood. Just Ana and Sebastian and a life where I could look at myself in the mirror again.
I just had to become a murderer first.
The ship lurched, and one of the guards—a Romvesian with cold eyes—grabbed my arm to steady me. His grip was just a fraction too tight, his claws pressing against my skin through the thin fabric of my prison uniform. A reminder. A warning.
The uniform itself was made of climate-adjusting fabric, a dreary gray that definitely wasn't my color—though I supposed fashion wasn't a priority when you were being dumped on a prison planet. Still, it was warm and sturdy, responding to my body temperature with subtle shifts that kept me from freezing in the ship's recycled air. The boots were equally practical. Thick-soled and reinforced, designed to last through whatever hell awaited below.
Small mercies. The Alliance might be using me as bait, but at least they weren't sending me underdressed.
The landing was rough—the kind of controlled crash that made my teeth rattle and my stomach lurch. When the cargo bay doors opened, the smell hit me first. Acrid and chemical. Like burning plastic mixed with sewage and something organic that had been rotting for far too long. I gagged, pressing my hand to my mouth, and one of the guards laughed.
"Welcome to Palaydium," he said, his voice carrying dark amusement. "Breathe deep, human. You'll get used to it."
I wouldn't. But I said nothing as they hauled me to my feet, marched me down the ramp and onto the surface of a planet that looked like the galaxy's garbage dump.
