Chapter 43
KAZ
We drop out of the skimmer like thunder, wheels barely hitting the rails before we’re sprinting across the deck.
The whole launch platform’s lit up like a goddamn supernova.
Sparks rain from the gantries. Blue light flickers along the seams of the wormhole core—unstable, unregulated, wrong. Every warning alarm on the base should be screaming, but someone’s muted them.
This isn’t a test. It’s a burial.
“Move!” I bark.
Verzius peels off to the left, already clocked the incoming guards before I even finish the word. Stark’s private security—black armor, suppressed rifles, no insignia. Ghost detail. Off-book.
They open fire.
Verzius dances between them like a blade. Two quick shots. A shoulder pivot. Elbow to the throat. One guard crumples. The other gets a knee to the sternum so hard I hear bones crack.
He doesn’t even muss his collar.
I bolt for the far platform—where I see it.
My ship.
My old fighter.
Half-stripped down, rigged for sensor testing. Only it’s not a sensor pod slung under the wing. I know the shape. The casing.
Containment unit.
And I know who’s inside.
“Nova…”
I run harder.
Static buzzes through the air as the wormhole pulses again. The portal’s raw now, blue-white edges fraying at the seams, space itself stuttering like it wants to come undone.
Stark steps out of the command lift.
Big. Grinning. Swathed in an exo-suit that looks like he raided a forgotten war vault. Hydraulic gauntlets, armor plating like he's cosplaying judgment day.
Gun already drawn.
His smile is so wide it borders on madness.
“She was always meant to go further than you, Kaz,” he says, voice magnified through the suit’s modulator. “And look at you—chasing after her like a dog that lost its bone.”
“You put her in that pod,” I snarl.
He shrugs. “I put her in the future.”
I don’t wait for him to finish gloating.
I tackle him.
The exo-suit gives him weight, but I’ve got momentum—and rage. We crash to the deck in a tangle of metal and fury. His weapon skitters across the platform. My elbow slams into his jaw. He grunts. Throws me off with a powered shove that sends me skidding across the floor.
I roll. Regain my footing. Blood in my mouth. My knuckles already raw.
He comes at me with those reinforced fists, swings wide. I duck, pivot, slam a boot into the side of his knee. The servo there crunches, and he howls.
“You don’t get to sacrifice her,” I growl, dodging another punch. “She’s not yours to offer.”
“She’s mine,” Stark sneers, “because she chose progress over sentiment. She knew what this meant.”
“You’re using her, you bastard.”
“She volunteered!” he roars, throwing a haymaker that catches my shoulder. I stagger. The edge of the platform is too close now.
But I see the flicker—his exo-core’s exposed. Right along the collar. The glow’s erratic, overheating.
I fake left.
Then throw myself right, driving my blade into the opening with a grunt. Sparks burst. Stark screams. The suit convulses.
I grab the edge of his helmet and slam my forehead into his faceplate.
Once.
Twice.
Crack.
The helmet shatters.
He crumples like a dropped puppet.
I don’t check if he’s out.
I’m already at the pod.
Fingers fly over the latch. Override code. Manual release. The hatch bursts open in a cloud of steam.
Nova spills out.
Dazed.
Barely conscious.
But alive.
I catch her before she hits the deck.
She blinks up at me, eyes glazed with shock. “Kaz?”
“I got you,” I whisper, cradling her tight. “You’re safe. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
And this time, I mean it.