Chapter 2
Ahrick
The stench of Fange City hit me first—always did.
Rust and oil and something organic that had been rotting for far too long in Palaydium's yellow atmosphere.
I crouched in the shadow of what had once been a cargo hauler's hull, now wedged at a forty-five-degree angle between the skeletal remains of two fighter craft, creating a precarious shelter for the dozen or so squatters who called it home.
The whole damn city was like this. Built from the corpses of ships that had crashed, been shot down, or been stripped for parts by prisoners with nowhere else to go.
Fange City sprawled across the wasteland like a diseased organism, metastasizing wherever wreckage provided foundation.
Jagged metal spires jutted toward the perpetually gray sky, their edges sharp enough to slice through flesh if you weren't careful.
Makeshift bridges of salvaged plating connected structures that had no business being connected, swaying under the weight of foot traffic.
Somewhere in the distance, stressed metal groaned—a sound as constant as breathing here, the city's never-ending death rattle.
I'd been watching Persico's compound for weeks.
Weeks of breathing this toxic air, sleeping in shifts in whatever hole I could find, tracking the patterns of the guards.
The Kerzak crime boss ran Fange City with an iron fist and complete disregard for law or mercy.
Perfect place for a human trafficker to hide.
Persico didn't ask questions as long as the credits kept flowing, and Hewes had credits to spare.
The compound itself occupied what had once been a luxury liner—all sweeping curves and reinforced hull plating that had survived atmospheric entry better than most. Persico had claimed it as his fortress, and Hewes had bought himself sanctuary within its walls.
Guards patrolled the perimeter in shifts, armed with weapons that would vaporize anyone who got within fifty feet of the entrance.
I was patient. I'd learned patience in my years as a warrior—learned to wait for the perfect moment to strike, to recognize the opening that meant the difference between victory and a shallow grave. Hewes would make a mistake eventually. They always did.
The comm unit against my chest buzzed—a soft vibration that sent alertness through my system.
I glanced around the narrow alley where I'd positioned myself, checking for eyes, movement, any sign I'd been spotted.
Nothing. Just the usual chaos of Fange City.
Prisoners haggling over salvage, a fight breaking out near what passed for a market, the distant sound of someone screaming.
I slipped into an access tunnel running beneath street level, ducking through an opening barely wide enough for my shoulders.
The smell intensified—sewage and chemicals and decay—but it was private.
The comm unit was precious, worth more than my life in a place like this.
Every prisoner on Palaydium would kill to possess it, would slit my throat for the chance to contact the outside world.
I activated the unit with a touch. The holographic display flickered to life, and Nansar's face materialized in the tunnel's dim light. My old friend looked good. Freedom suited him. So did having a mate.
"Ahrick," he said, his voice carrying that familiar warmth that made something in my chest tighten.
"Nansar." I kept my voice low, aware that sound carried strangely through Fange City's twisted infrastructure. "You have news?"
"We do." Chloe's face appeared beside Nansar's—the human female who'd survived Hewes's trafficking operation and emerged fierce enough to fight alongside warriors twice her size.
She'd stood toe to toe with us and fought Hewes and his minions.
The female was deadly with a blaster. "The Prime has made her final decision about Hewes. "
My pulse quickened. "And?"
"She wants him dead," Nansar said, and something in his expression—surprise, maybe concern—reinforced the weight of his words. "No trial. No extradition. Just... eliminated."
I processed that, turning it over in my mind. "The Prime doesn't usually order executions." Not this Prime, anyway.
"No," Chloe agreed, her green eyes hard in the holographic display. "She doesn't. But Hewes is different. He has too many connections, too many people willing to help him escape. We can't risk another opportunity for him to slip away. This ends on Palaydium."
"Good." The word came out harsh and hateful. I knew what Hewes had done to Chloe, the years she'd spent as his prisoner. I'd already promised her I'd take care of Hewes. And I always kept my promises. "I'm working on it. Persico's guards are many, but there are patterns. I'll find an opening."
"You may not have to work alone," Nansar said, and something in his tone made me tense. "They found the spy in the Alliance. A human female named Merrilee Sanchez."
The name meant nothing to me, but the implications did. Someone who'd been feeding Hewes information, helping him stay ahead of Alliance forces. My jaw tightened. "Where is she now?"
"Being sent to Palaydium," Chloe said, and her expression softened with sympathy. "She was a victim, Ahrick. Hewes kidnapped her brother and sister, held them hostage to force her cooperation. She did what she had to do to keep them alive."
I understood that. Understood it better than most. Desperation made people do terrible things, made them compromise everything they believed in just to survive.
"She's coming there to kill him," Nansar continued. "It's part of her deal with the Prime. She helps eliminate Hewes, and she gets to go home. Back to Earth."
I stared at the holographic display, trying to process what they were telling me. "An Earth female. You want to send an Earth female into Fange City to assassinate one of the most dangerous humans in the galaxy, who's currently under the protection of a Kerzak crime lord."
"Yes," Chloe said simply.
"Earth females are delicate." I'd seen how fragile they were, how easily they broke under pressure Fange City would exert. "She'll be dead within an hour of arriving."
"I'm an Earth female," Chloe pointed out, her voice edged with a reminder of exactly how dangerous she could be. "And I'm still here."
She had a point. I'd watched Chloe fight, watched her move with lethal grace that hadn't a thing to do with size or strength and everything to do with will, skill, and a refusal to break. If this Merrilee Sanchez had even a fraction of that...
But still. Fange City wasn't a battlefield.
It was a meat grinder, a place where the strong preyed on the weak and the weak died screaming.
Sending anyone here was dangerous. Sending a human female who'd been victimized by Hewes, who probably had no combat training, no experience with places like this...
"The Prime wants you to continue your mission," Nansar said, pulling me back to the present. "Kill Hewes. But watch the human female. Help her if she needs it. She's been through enough, Ahrick. The Prime wants to give her this chance, but she doesn't want to send her to her death."
"So I'm supposed to complete my assassination while also playing bodyguard to a traumatized Earth female who's probably never killed anyone in her life." I couldn't keep the skepticism from my voice.
"Yes," Chloe said, steel in her tone. "Because she deserves the chance to face him. To take back some of what he stole from her. You understand that, don't you?"
I did. Goddess help me, I did. The need for vengeance, for justice—I understood that better than most.
"When does she arrive?" I asked.
"Three days," Nansar said. "Maybe four, depending on transport schedules. Officially, she's just another prisoner being transferred to Palaydium for her crimes. No one will know she's there to kill Hewes until it's done."
"Assuming she survives long enough to try," I muttered.
"That's where you come in," Chloe said. "The Prime trusts you, Ahrick. She knows you'll do what needs to be done."
The holographic display flickered as the connection began to degrade. We didn't have much time left.
"I'll do it," I said, because what else could I say? The Prime had given me a mission, had trusted me with this despite my past, despite everything I'd done. "But if this human female gets herself killed because she's not prepared for Fange City—"
"Then you make sure Hewes dies anyway," Nansar finished. "That's the priority. Hewes doesn't leave Palaydium alive."
"Understood."
The connection cut out, leaving me in the darkness of the tunnel with only the distant sounds of Fange City filtering through the walls. I deactivated the comm unit, tucking it back against my chest where it would be safe, and sat there for a moment, letting my eyes adjust to the deeper shadows.
Three days. Maybe four.
Three days to figure out how to access a man protected by one of the most dangerous crime lords in the sector, while also keeping a traumatized Earth female alive long enough to get her shot at revenge.
I pulled myself out of the access tunnel, emerging back into the toxic twilight of Fange City.
The smell hit me again—rust and rot and desperation—but this time it felt heavier, more oppressive.
The jagged skyline of crashed ships and salvaged metal stretched out before me, a monument to everything that went wrong in the galaxy.
Somewhere in that chaos, Hewes was hiding behind Persico's walls, thinking he was safe.
He wasn't.
I moved through the shadows, keeping to the edges of the makeshift streets, my mind already working through the new variables. An Earth female. A spy. A victim. Someone who'd been broken by Hewes and was now coming here to break him in return.
I understood the impulse. Understood the need. But understanding didn't make it any less dangerous, didn't make Fange City any less likely to chew her up and spit out her bones.
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 me that nothing here was stable, nothing was safe, and survival was always temporary.
Three days.
My life had just gotten a lot more complicated.