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"Don't even think about it, scrap-rat. Move a finger and I'll take your hand off."
Lyra’s voice was like a razor blade against glass. She didn't just step through the smoke; she owned it. One hand held a pulse-blade humming with a lethal violet glow, the other pointed a heavy-bore kinetic pistol straight at my forehead.
I stayed frozen, my back pressed against the workbench. My arm—the one fused with the forbidden reactor—was still smoking, the metal glowing a dull, angry red. The pain was a screaming white noise in my skull, but the power humming under my skin felt like a caged beast.
"You're late," I spat, coughing out a cloud of metallic dust. "The party's already started. Your bosses already blew the front wall. You're just the cleanup crew."
Lyra stepped closer. The scent of ozone and expensive leather hit me. She was too close, her boots clicking on the concrete, closing the distance until the muzzle of her gun pressed into the center of my brow. I could see the gold flecks in her eyes—cold, professional, and utterly murderous.
"You're coming with me," she whispered, her breath warm against my cheek. "And if you make this difficult, I'll make sure you're awake for every second of the autopsy."
"I'm not going anywhere with a Cartel lapdog," I sneered. I shifted my weight, just an inch.
She reacted instantly. The pulse-blade flicked up, the tip grazing my throat. The heat from the blade singed the fine hairs on my neck. I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Lapdog?" She let out a short, sharp laugh that didn't reach her eyes. "I'm the one who's going to keep you alive long enough for Sterling to get what he wants. Right now, you're just a piece of hardware with a heartbeat. Don't forget your place."
"Your place?" I grinned, though it felt more like a grimace. "You're shaking, Lyra. Is it the cold, or are you starting to realize you're the only one in this room who hasn't been betrayed yet?"
She stiffened. The blade didn't waver, but her eyes flickered. "What are you talking about?"
"Check your comms," I said, my voice dropping. "The breach shells weren't just for me. They leveled the whole sector. Including the extraction point where your team was supposed to be. You weren't sent to capture me. You were sent to erase the evidence. Me *and* the witness who saw the fusion happen."
For a second, the silence was heavier than the smog outside. Then, her wrist-comm chirped. A sharp, rhythmic sequence of red flashes.
Lyra glanced at the screen. Her expression didn't change, but the pressure of the gun on my forehead eased. Just a fraction.
"Liar," she hissed, but the conviction was gone.
"Am I?" I lunged.
I didn't go for her throat. I slammed my glowing mechanical fist into the floorboards. The reactor in my arm surged, sending a shockwave of blue kinetic energy through the rotted wood. The floor erupted.
Lyra leaped back, a blur of black leather and steel, but the blast threw us both off balance. I scrambled up, grabbing a heavy iron wrench from the table and swinging it in a desperate arc. She parried it with the blade, sparks showering between us.
"You little shit!" she yelled, twisting her body to launch a kick aimed at my ribs.
I caught the blow with my prosthetic arm. The impact felt like a sledgehammer hitting a brick wall. The metal groaned, and a surge of blue light flared where her boot met my forearm. I didn't move. I just gripped her ankle and yanked.
She went down hard. I didn't give her a second to breathe. I pinned her against the workbench, my weight crushing her, my glowing arm locked across her chest.
"Now who's the hardware?" I growled, my face inches from hers.
Her chest was heaving, the fabric of her tactical suit straining. Up close, I could see the pulse of her carotid artery in her neck. She didn't look scared—she looked furious. She tried to bring the knife up, but I slammed her wrist back against the wood.
"Listen to me," I whispered, the heat from my arm radiating between us. "Sterling doesn't want a witness. He wants a weapon. And you're just the leash he's planning to cut."
"Shut up," she gasped, her eyes darting to the door. "You think you're safe? They're already—"
*BOOM.*
Another explosion rocked the building. This one was closer. The ceiling groaned, a massive crack splitting the plaster right above us. Dust and chunks of masonry rained down.
"They're not coming for me," I said, the realization hitting me as the floor shuddered. "They're bringing the whole building down."
Lyra looked up, her eyes widening. "The demolition charges. He actually set them."
"He's cleaning house," I said, my grip on her tightening. "You're a liability, and I'm a mistake. We're both trash to him."
She stopped fighting. The anger in her eyes shifted into something colder, something sharper. She looked at the glowing core in my arm, then back at me.
"If we stay here, we die," she said. Her voice was flat, stripped of the elite enforcer persona.
"I've got a way out," I said. "But you're going to have to trust me. Which is a hell of a thing to ask a woman who just tried to gut me."
"Just get me out of here," she snapped. "I'll kill you myself once we're clear."
"Deal," I grinned.
I grabbed her hand—her actual hand, not the weapon—and pulled her toward the back of the workshop. We ran, the world shaking around us. Every step felt like the earth was trying to swallow us whole.
We reached the ventilation shaft just as the main support beam snapped with a sound like a gunshot. The roof didn't just leak; it vanished. A massive section of the upper floor collapsed, a tidal wave of brick and steel crashing down toward us.
"Jump!" I yelled, shoving her toward the open grate of the waste chute.
She didn't hesitate. She grabbed the collar of my jacket, her fingers digging into the fabric, and pulled me with her.
We hit the chute together, a chaotic tangle of limbs and leather. For a second, there was only the rushing wind and the smell of ancient sewage. Then, the ground vanished.
As we plummeted into the pitch-black abyss, Lyra’s voice echoed in my ear, barely audible over the roar of the fall.
"If we survive this, I'm still taking your head."
"Can't wait," I shouted back, right before the darkness swallowed us whole.