Epilogue
Ahrick
I pressed myself against the corroded metal wall of the alley, watching the entrance to Persico's compound three blocks down.
The underbelly of Fange City never slept—a constant pulse of illicit deals, desperate souls, and the kind of darkness that fed on Palaydium's forgotten corners like a living thing.
I'd been tracking Declan Hewes for weeks now, close enough to smell the bastard's fear mixing with the stale air, but never close enough to strike.
Persico had changed the game entirely. The crime boss's protection meant Hewes moved like royalty through a kingdom of filth—surrounded by a small army at all times, slipping through secure tunnels and fortified buildings I couldn't penetrate. Not yet.
Above, through the perpetual smog that strangled Fange City's lower levels like a grimy fist, I could make out the faint lights of Alliance ships cutting through the atmosphere.
They'd increased patrols since rescuing Chloe—a net tightening around the city, constricting with every passing day.
Hewes wasn't going anywhere. Neither was I.
The comm unit buzzed softly against my chest. Faint, barely a whisper of vibration that only I could feel. Carrying a comm unit on Palaydium was a death sentence. I should have left it buried beneath the floorboards in my shack on the wastelands.
But I wasn't going back to that shack. Not until Hewes was dead and cold in the ground, and most likely myself with him.
The hunt had reached its final stage, and I couldn't afford to lose contact with the Alliance.
The Prime's intelligence network was the only advantage I had against Persico's fortress.
Staying connected meant staying one step ahead.
So I'd taken the risk, strapped the comm unit to my chest beneath my jacket, and committed to seeing this through to whatever end waited for me in this godforsaken city.
I'd spoken to Nansar and Chloe earlier, and the conversation still warmed something in me I'd thought had died years ago. Nansar was free now to be with his mate Chloe, to build the life he deserved. He'd been misguided, yes, but not evil. Not like the fucker I tracked now.
The Prime's directive had come through Nansar. Find Hewes. Kill him. Simple. Clean. The kind of order that made my jaw clench and my hands curl into fists until the knuckles went white.
I hated being thought of as an assassin.
Hated the way the Prime's order carried that expectation, as if killing was all I was good for, as if violence was my only language.
But the truth gnawed at me in the quiet moments—it was what I was good at.
The best, maybe. And that knowledge sat in my gut like poison, bitter and inescapable.
The Prime had dangled probation in front of me like bait on a hook. Freedom. A chance to leave this hellhole planet behind, to breathe air that didn't reek of decay and broken dreams. But that wasn't why I'd accepted. I'd made a promise to Chloe, and I kept my promises. Always.
More than that, though—more than duty or friendship or even the slim hope of freedom—was the crushing weight of my sin. The reason I'd been sent to Palaydium in the first place. The thing I could never forgive myself for, no matter how many years passed or how much blood I spilled.
Maybe killing Declan Hewes wouldn't erase what I'd done. Maybe nothing could. But it was a step toward something better. Or at least something less damned.
I pulled deeper into the shadows as a patrol passed, Persico's thugs laughing about something crude, their voices grating against the night like rusted metal. My hand drifted to the blade at my hip, fingers tracing the worn handle like a familiar prayer.
Soon. Hewes would slip up, or Persico would get greedy, or the Alliance would tighten the noose just enough to create an opening.
And when that moment came, I would be ready.