Page 60 of Claimed By the Wraiths

One direction, one approach, one killing ground.

Jessa was behind me at the console, monitoring the upload. The bond told me her pulse was elevated but steady. Her attention was on the displays, tracking the data flow and the authentication progress.

Focused. Working. The way she always was when things were at their worst.

I put my back to the door frame and waited. The shadow-meld sat under my skin, ready.

Not sustained. Resting.

I’d need it soon and I couldn’t afford to burn it before the fighting started.

The crew was fighting through the station. Their voices on the comms were the only sound besides the equipment’s low drone and Jessa’s steady breathing.

Zevik, breathless: “Their external array has a blind spot on the lower quadrant. I’ve been running them through it since we broke cover and they still haven’t figured it out.”

“That’s not flying,” Maris said. “That’s a controlled crash.”

“All my crashes are controlled.”

“Ressh and I are through the docking ring,” Alix said. “Corridor is contested. Six hostiles, falling back.” A pause.

The sound of weapons fire. The hostile comm chatter spiked with confused shouting as Ressh’s pheromonal warning hit them. “Five hostiles.”

“Four,” Ressh said. “The last two can’t decide if they’re more scared of the woman with the gun or the man who smells like their worst nightmare.”

“Three,” Alix said. “They decided wrong.”

Deyric came back on. “Eight minutes. Military frequencies authenticated. Broadcasting. Diplomatic handshake opening now. This is the slow one—twelve more minutes if the spoof holds.”

Eight minutes in, the first wave hit us.

Station security. Six of them, coming down the corridor at a run, weapons up, boots hammering the deck plating.

They knew where we were. The comm hub was the only target that mattered, and they were coming to retake the room.

The hub was hardened to keep transmitting through an assault, and Deyric’s fail-operational lock had frozen remote shutdown.

Command did have one other option: sever the privileged routes and isolate protected systems locally. Palm-keyed. As long as we held the hub and kept those routes open, Jessa’s worm would still have a path to the research.

I pulled the shadow-meld up. Not full. Not the deep state I’d been rationing through the last two weeks.

Controlled bursts. The way I’d used it at the relay raid. Enough to make their targeting drift, enough to close the distance between their shots and my hands.

The first two went down fast. Their weapons fired into shadow that wasn’t where I was anymore.

The third got a shot off that scorched the wall behind me. The fourth tried to retreat and hit the one behind him. The fifth raised his weapon and I was already inside his guard before his finger closed on the trigger. He went down.

The sixth turned and ran. Smart. Not smart enough.

I caught him at the junction.

I knew Jessa’s position behind me without looking.

She was at the console, twelve steps back, left of center. Safe. In position.

“Twelve minutes,” she said. “Diplomatic at thirty-five percent.”

Ressh on comms: “Military wing is clear. Alix and I are moving toward the holding levels.” His voice had changed. Not the charming, sarcastic scout from the briefing room.