Chapter 15 · Trust Nobody

Taren's hand closed around her wrist before she could drop the second sign.

He yanked her through the equipment bay door and into the stairwell. No words. Just the clang of boots on metal and her shoulder slamming into the rail as he shoved her up two flights.

Keira didn't fight it. Her brain was already three moves ahead, calculating how bad this was about to get.

He kicked open the roof access. Wind hit her face, cold and sharp, carrying the burnt-plastic smell of the firing ranges below. The academy sprawled out beneath them, all hard angles and searchlights cutting through the dusk.

Taren let go of her wrist and stepped back. His face was stone.

"Where did you learn that sign?"

Keira kept her expression blank. "What sign?"

"Don't." His voice dropped. "I saw it. Clean execution. Correct finger angle. That's not something you pick up from a training manual."

She shrugged. "Maybe I had a good teacher."

"That sign's been out of circulation for six years." He moved closer. "Only three units ever used it. Two got folded into conventional forces. The third—"

"Got wiped out," Keira finished. "I know my history."

His jaw tightened.