Chapter Seven
For days, the search for Dissenters had been an utter failure.
Ahna’s team—which included Christian, Hawk, Imara, Claude, and Yosef—had been assigned to the grave shift, and they’d split into pairs to wander Perileos in search of suspicious behavior.
Today, Christian and Ahna chose to go deeper into the outskirts, near his former home.
It was an area he knew very well, and where Dissent support ran thicker.
They were deep in an edge-sector when the hairs on Christian’s neck stood on end.
They were being watched.
“Yeah, I feel it too,” Ahna said before Christian had even made a comment. They’d gotten good at recognizing each other’s tells after the first time they’d wandered Perileos.
Pretending they were unaware of their stalker, they stopped at a small pub that barely fit twenty people.
Its ceiling sagged with age, and its metal beams were spotted with patches of rust. A single amber ultralight buzzed overhead.
The pub was shit, but it was a good place to linger and catch some gossip while waiting to see who was following them.
Ahna ordered two pints of RevaBeer while Christian snagged a tiny table in the far corner. He sat with his back to the wall and scanned the room. A minute later, Ahna took the seat across from him and swallowed a huge gulp of her drink.
“Wow,” she said, flinching. “I’ve been drinking this every day, and it’s still the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. Do you people ever get used to drinking this shit?”
A corner of Christian’s mouth twitched upward. “Not really. But when you’re poor and really want to get toasted, that’s the best way to do it.”
She gagged but didn’t hesitate to take another swig.
Christian nursed his drink. The last thing he wanted was to be buzzed if some dick from the Falaichte caught him off guard. He probably should share the possibility with Ahna, but how could he admit the awful things he’d done to someone he’d just met?
A figure dressed in brown stepped into the pub.
From a distance, they appeared female, but with the baggy cloak and hood over their head, it was hard to tell.
They could be a male of smaller stature.
They eyed the table where Christian and Ahna sat before turning their back to them and ordering a drink.
“Clocking our potential stalker at your five,” Christian said. “Unsure if they’re male or female.”
“Okay, keep an eye on them,” Ahna replied, subtly unfastening the sheath around her thigh that housed her dagger.
Christian took a small sip of RevaBeer and discreetly slipped grav knuckles onto his dominant, right hand. SARTF had graciously gifted them to him, and he had to admit he was quite fond of them.
He sat lazily in his seat, keeping watch on the individual out of the corner of his eye while pretending to be absorbed in conversation with Ahna.
“So, tell me about your time here,” she said. “What did you do for work?”
His jaw flexed. “Mining, mostly.” He would leave out the part where he’d also headlined ring fighting matches to pay off his father’s debts.
“That sounds . . . horrible.” She took another huge sip of beer and grimaced.
“I suppose. The majority of the people in Perileos grow up in the mines. You get used to it.”
The bartender’s gaze flicked toward them.
For someone untrained, the movement would’ve been impossible to spot.
But after all the years he’d spent learning fighters’ tells—and hunting humans—Christian didn’t miss much anymore.
Call it a survival instinct. He’d been honest when he’d told Gemma he was usually the Falaichte’s prey on hunting days.
One second of distraction could’ve cost him.
Their cloaked follower eyed Christian and Ahna again over their shoulder before setting coin on the bar.
Fuck.
“They’re definitely here for us,” Christian warned.
Ahna smirked. “Good. I’ve been itching for some fun. Remember, we want them alive.”
Breathing slowly and steadily through his nostrils, he honed his gaze on the movement of the person’s hands and feet. He couldn’t miss a single twitch.
The stalker’s toes turned seconds before their hand slipped into their coat. The movement was quick, but Christian’s reflexes were faster.
“Down,” he shouted at Ahna, and she leapt off her chair. Together they flipped the table and took cover, sending their half-full glasses shattering across the metal floor. The thunk of revarium steel against wood resonated amidst the shrieks of the few patrons racing for the exit.
“You shouldn’t’ve come back, Christy,” a sultry feminine voice said.
Ahna flashed Christian a questioning stare as his pulse ticked up. He’d know that voice anywhere—Cho. It had only been a matter of time before someone in the Falaichte came after him. But her?
Ahna pressed her thumb against the black band she’d worn around her wrist for days. A thin strip of ultralight, fused with spidersilk fabric, pulsated a light blue. Christian poised on the balls of his feet, ready to leap from behind cover the moment Ahna made her move.
“Paulo was madder than fuck when you just up and left,” Cho continued, her melodic voice drawing nearer.
“Why do they always decide to give a speech?” Ahna spoke softly, pulling her dagger into her hand.
“Fuck if I know,” Christian replied.
Cho’s footsteps approached. “You come with me and beg for mercy, and maybe he’ll let your treason slide.”
Ahna gave Christian a nod and spun out from behind the table. The band on her wrist lit cerulean as she twisted it mid-step, triggering a shock wave.
The sonic burst hit Cho head-on. She yelped as she was forced in reverse, but she somersaulted backward and onto her feet, her agility still as impressive as Christian remembered. Dropping low, Cho flung a dagger from beneath her cloak with lethal precision at Ahna’s throat.
Christian swore, launching himself over the flipped table, but Ahna twisted cleanly, stepping aside just enough to let the blade whistle past her face and bury into the wall. Ahna hurled her dagger straight at Cho’s leg—the weapon sparked off the metal floor as Cho vaulted sideways.
Grav knuckles flaring, Christian charged across the broken glass and overturned chairs. Cho met him mid-step, her blade already drawn. Her dark eyes were wild with recognition and betrayal.
“Here we go again, Christy,” she said with mock affection, slicing at his chest.
Christian sidestepped the strike and blocked her follow-up slash with the back of his grav knuckles. Kinetic energy surged and cracked against the revarium steel blade, knocking her arm wide. She spun it into a backhanded slice meant for his neck, but he leaned away just in time.
Sweat rolled down Christian’s neck as Ahna circled behind Cho, ready to strike. But Christian flicked two fingers subtly at his side. Mine.
Ahna widened her stance and covered the exit.
Cho pivoted, darting sideways and slashing low at Christian’s legs. The blade nicked his trousers as he twisted out of the way.
Fuck, that was close.
“You’ve gotten slower,” Cho hissed, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
Christian’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t answer. He feinted high then drove a knee toward her midsection. She caught it with her forearm, spun, and elbowed him in the ribs.
The wind punched out of him, and he staggered back.
Cho lunged, her blade angled straight toward his gut.
Wincing against the pain in his side, he swiveled low and caught her wrist mid-strike with his left hand, slamming his grav knuckles into her elbow with his right.
Cho howled, and the blade fell. She retaliated with a vicious head butt.
Ah fuck.
Stars burst across Christian’s vision as blood dripped from his nose. His hold loosened on Cho.
She lunged for the dagger she’d dropped—
Christian kicked her feet out from under her, and she tumbled to the floor.
Shaking off the pain in his face, he ripped one of the power cables from the nearby wall while she rose to her feet.
He wrapped the cable around Cho’s neck.
Cho tried to buck him off, but where her agility surpassed his, Christian’s strength outmatched hers.
She grabbed his wrist and drove an elbow into his ribs. He grunted, tightening his muscles against the pain.
“Just stop, Cho. I don’t want to fight you,” he said.
She dug her fingernails into his arms, drawing blood. But he refused to let go and tightened his grip on the cord. Finally, her limbs weakened, and he felt the moment her vision went dark. Christian let go, catching her before she fell. His fingertips found the artery in her neck—she was alive.
He let out a long sigh through pursed lips as he lowered her to the ground.
“Well, I gotta give her credit,” Ahna said, reaching down to place cuffs on Cho’s wrists. They snapped closed with a soft whine, their magnetic seals locking. “Girl’s got some moves.”
Christian wiped his bloodied upper lip with the sleeve of his shirt and ground his teeth.
Ahna hadn’t even seen half the shit Cho could do.
He’d spent six years of his life training alongside her.
Fuck, he’d taught her some of the moves.
Which is why he knew it was better to knock her unconscious than to keep fighting hand-to-hand.
What would happen when she woke, though?
Her appearance was the absolute last thing he needed right now.
He’d wanted to get in and out of Perileos as fast as possible, and now everyone was about to find out the truth of his past. Would they lock him up when they found out he’d been involved with Falaichte?
If they did, he’d never get back to Gemma.
Christian fought the urge to chuck a nearby beer glass into a wall.