Chapter 36 · What the Crown Was For

The maintenance deck smelled of scorched metal, blood, and rain that had never touched the ground.

Kellan Vey lay beneath the shattered ribs of his armor while the city trembled around him. Every breath dragged fire across his chest. The orbital cannon had not killed him, but it had left a white-hot seam from his left shoulder to his hip, and the armor kept trying to close it with material drawn from his own nervous system.

He shoved one blackened gauntlet against the deck.

The metal beneath his palm flexed.

Not bent. Responded.

A pulse moved through the maintenance bay. Across the cavernous chamber, abandoned warframes woke in their racks. Their optics opened one by one, red and hungry. Hydraulic locks screamed. Chains snapped. Somewhere above, a city alarm began to howl, then broke into static.

Brom Hark limped into view with a rifle braced against his shoulder. His left sleeve was soaked dark, and a strip of emergency foam clung to his jaw.

“Stay down,” Brom growled. “That’s an order from the man who just used his spine as a shield.”

Kellan pushed himself upright. “You’re bleeding.”

“So are you. I’m less dramatic about it.