One of the guards spoke into his comm. "Sir, we're under attack. Two Alliance warships just dropped out of hyperspace, theBardagaand theHistoria. They're firing on us."
"Impossible!" Riuondo snarled. "How did they find us?"
But I knew. Chloe had understood the message. My baby girl had sent the cavalry.
The shuttle rocked again, and this time the guards flanking Serna stumbled. She didn't hesitate.
She moved like lightning—a blur of controlled violence. One guard went down with a crushed windpipe. The other she disarmed with a brutal strike to the gut, then finished with an elbow to the temple.
Riuondo turned toward her, blade still in hand.
Serna grabbed something from the fallen guard's belt—a collapsed baton. She flicked it open, and it extended into a staff about five feet long. Not quite a traditional quarterstaff, but close enough.
"You should have killed me when you had the chance," she said.
And then she attacked.
I'd seen Serna fight before—had watched her kill the caphik with brutal efficiency. But this was different. This was a warrior in her element, fighting for everything that mattered.
She was magnificent.
The staff became an extension of her body, moving in patterns too fast to follow. Strike, block, spin, strike again. Riuondo was bigger, stronger, but Serna was faster. More skilled.
Riuondo slashed with the blade. Serna deflected it with the staff, the impact ringing through the chamber. She spun,bringing the staff around in a devastating arc that caught him in the ribs.
He grunted, staggered back.
She pressed the advantage, raining blows down on him with relentless precision. Head, shoulder, knee, ribs. Each strike calculated to disable, to hurt, to kill.
But Riuondo was a warrior too. He caught the staff on the next strike, yanked it toward him, and drove his blade toward Serna's chest.
She twisted, and the blade scored across her shoulder instead of her heart. Blood bloomed across her bodysuit.
I saw her flinch in pain. But she didn't slow.
She released the staff, letting Riuondo's momentum carry him forward, and drove her knee into his gut. As he doubled over, she grabbed his wrist—the one holding the blade—and twisted.
Bone snapped. The blade clattered to the floor.
Riuondo roared and backhanded her across the face.
She went down hard, blood streaming from her split lip.
"No!" I strained against the restraints, desperate to help her, but I was too weak. Too broken. All I could do was watch.
Riuondo advanced on her, murder in his eyes.
Serna rolled, grabbed the fallen blade, and came up in a crouch.
They circled each other, both breathing hard, both bleeding.
"You can't win," Riuondo said. "Even if you kill me, my supporters will tear the Alliance apart. Everything you've built will crumble."
"Then I'll rebuild it." Serna's voice was steady. "But you won't be alive to see it."
She lunged.
The blade flashed in the red emergency lighting. Once, twice, three times.
