Chapter 28 #2
She crossed her arms, projecting casual ease. ‘We need your skillset on 65 Cybele.’
She got a twitch of one brow, no more.
‘I suppose I’ve no choice but to hear you out,’ he rasped dully, his timbre hoarse with disuse.
Miral smirked. ‘Ding ding ding, winner.’
She tracked closer, her cadence building momentum.
‘Here’s the deal. Accord’s got a vice grip on Cybele Station. United Earth contracted its merc outfit, the Accord Legion, to maintain order. However, their version of peace appears more like civilian bullying and disappearing cargo.’
His eyes flicked to her, still dull, but following the thread now. ‘There have been over two hundred violent strikes against passengers, dock workers, and Cybele rebels who oppose Earth’s rule.’
His jaw flexed, muscles twitching. ‘The kicker is that parts of Cybele have no real governing authority. Which means the Accord Legion answers to no one. They’re turning into rogue operators with zero oversight, halfway across the galaxy.’
‘Sounds like a right fokkin’ mess,’ Santi rasped, sitting up a little straighter.
‘Oh, it is since Accord’s top brass now admits their guy on the ground, Lieutenant Varl Rexus, is off leash. They’ve lost control. That’s where we come in.’
Santi turned his whole face to her, narrowing his unusual eyes. ‘What’s it to us?’
Miral grinned. ‘Xander and I pitched a takeover, a quiet one. Signet steps in, replaces the Accord Legion, restores order and credibility. We also win because Signet lands a new fat contract. United Earth just approved the plan.’
She let that sink in.
Santi blinked once, then again. The guitar slid off his lap and onto the divan, forgotten.
‘Why are you talking to me about it?’
‘We need a certain touch,’ Miral continued, her voice velvet over steel. ‘Someone who knows how to captivate politicians while twisting knives under the table.’ ‘A leader who can flatter pirate overlords over drinks and then rip their empires apart if the charm offensive doesn’t work.’
He arched a brow. ‘You’re asking me to seduce and destroy.’
‘Diplomatically,’ she said sweetly.
A gleam returned in his eyes, just a flicker, but nonetheless visible. ‘My kind of mission.’
He leaned forward, enlivened. ‘Tell me I’ve got full discretion. That if diplomacy fails, I get to go in guns blazing.’
Miral gave him a slow, wicked smile. ‘You’ve got carte blanche. Xander signed off on it himself.’
A beat of silence passed between them.
Santi stood, his movement sudden, as if a fundamental element within him clicked back into place.
‘I need something to sink my teeth into,’ he growled. ‘This sounds like just the thing.’
‘Abso-freakin-lutely,’ Miral smiled. ‘You’re a wolf who loves a fight even with one set of claws tied behind his back.’
‘When do we leave?’
‘As soon as you’re ready, my friend.’
Miral simpered as she followed his prowling gait toward his primary, satisfaction blooming like a quiet storm in her chest.
His essence was returning.
This mission, this mess of pirates, rebels, and corrupt mercs, would be the battlefield he needed to remember who the hell he was.
Not broken, nor lost. Rather, the fokkin’ potent Omega lycan he was.
SANTIAGO
2 AM.
Santi prowled through the executive corridors of the Signet dreadnought.
The lycan wolf in him stirred.
His soul still ached, but he felt more alive than he had in a while.
He sensed it in his spine, in the uptick of rhythm of his thoughts, in the way he walked The Sombra’s lower decks that morning.
He stalked with purpose now, not aimless pacing or grief-soaked drifting.
A flicker of his former self was igniting.
He was getting back in gear.
That did not mean he was not broken in places. He was.
Some nights, he still reached for the pillow she’d slept on and wrapped himself in her scent.
His nose buried in her fading foil, pressing hard, his shoulder shaking as grief leaked into it.
However, mornings came easier now.
He was now able to climb out of the wreckage of his broken heart.
To drag himself to the bathroom, to shower, shave, and brush his teeth, and plan the day.
His new mission helped.
He strode into the Signet board room, where twelve Signet operatives stood ready; six women, six men, all elite and experienced warriors.
Each wore the group’s signature dark matte armor suits with cloaks flared over one bicep.
Miral stood off to the side, in a gleaming, emerald jumpsuit to match her eyes, one brow raised as he entered.
Dressed in camo, Kaal gave him a slow nod from across the table, arms folded, his massive frame leaning against the bulkhead.
‘Team,’ Santi called.
His voice was hoarse, still unused to command, but it held weight.
Heads turned, spines straightened.
‘We’re headed to 65 Cybele. I‘m sure you’ve all read the brief. This is a quiet takeover mission dressed in the guise of diplomacy. You are Signet’s best. You know how this goes. Speak softly, but carry a big stick, no firearms, no live ammo. We’re not going onto the station to start a war. Savvy?’
‘Sawa, XO,’ the group called out as one.
He paused. ‘Let’s be honest. It won’t be a shoo-in on a port where insurrection has stirred for so long. Expect resistance, a few firefights, and a battle before we take charge. Anyone give you trouble, feel free to share your fokk knuckles.’
A ripple of chuckles moved through the squad.
He raised his chin and nailed the squad with a stern gaze. ‘Our presence on Cybele will be to remind them that we guard the Wildlight and rule the night.’
The crew replied in unison: ‘We are the night.’
He gave them a grim smile. ‘Get ready. We leave in one hour, at the ass crack of dawn.’
The twelve dispersed, their movements efficient.
Kaal approached first, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder. ‘Good to have you back, hermano.’
Santi offered a crooked smile. ‘Good to be vertical.’
Within the hour, the team was loading up in The Sombra’s massive rear deck.
The última El Lobo was a long, elegant capital-class cruiser that gleamed like a dagger in the shadows, retrofitted for stealth, speed, and war.
It was one of the largest ships in the Signet fleet, the most weaponized, and now his to command as captain.
After a quick inspection of the bridge, Santi headed to his ready room.
His spectral, nanite-powered armor sat waiting, draped on his chair.
He suited up, then caught his own reflection in the polished obsidian of the wall panel.
His eyes gleamed with the hunger of a new mission, yet beneath his newfound energy flamed his pain, deep and molten.
Losing his first love, Naya, years ago had been devastating.
When she died, the universe tilted out of alignment for weeks, but it realigned over time.
Soleil, however, was different.
She became, in such a short span, his sun, his orbit, fokk, the center of his heart, soul, and mind.
It felt like someone reached into his core and switched off all life, light, and fire within him.
The ache she left was not clean like Naya’s.
It was dark, shadowed, messy, twisted, and raw.
Worse, it was his fault.
He closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw locking.
He’d spoken to Soleil in no way a man should talk to a woman he claimed to love.
Words meant to wound; intended to push her away, and they succeeded, leading to her being lost to him forever.
If this pain now was karma, then so be it.
He would accept the sentence.
Still, he was a fokkin’ mess for her, but he tamped down the ache, the utter hopelessness of it all, and pushed on.
Stepping out of the ready room, he took the lift, prowling out the rear of the El Lobo to the The Sombra’s loading deck to check on the final loading of food, weapons, and supplies.
Where the freight gantries hummed and the last systems check blinked across the digital walls.
Xander stood near the gantry edge, eyes on the activity within the hangar with his usual sentinel stillness.
Santi came alongside him, arms folded, his gaze narrowing on the sight of the El Lobo’s ramp extending.
‘You’ve assembled a solid squad,’ Xander muttered.
‘Some of our best,’ Santi rasped. ‘Wish the rest of the strong guard was coming though, like the old days.’
Xander’s gaze cut toward him then, his eyes unreadable. ‘You’ll have Kaal and Miral. Besides, it’s an open-ended gig, and we all can’t be away from the mother ship indefinitely. Most of all, you need this cabrón.’
Santi grunted. ‘The fokk I do.’
‘You’ve been a dead man walking for weeks,’ Xander went on. ‘Cybele will wake you up. One way or another.’
Silence fell between them, filled by the hum of rumbling engines, far-off crew chatter, and hover porters buzzing to and from deliveries.
In time, Xander spoke. ‘I hope you find peace out there.’
‘I’ll freakin’ pummel it into reality,’ Santi muttered.
The men shared a hug, then the XO turned on his heel and strode into the El Lobo without looking back.
Behind him, Xander jerked his chin in a slow lift to Miral, who stood just inside the shadows of the cruiser’s rear hold.
She gave the slightest nod in return.