Chapter 8 · The First Rift

"Stop leaning on me, Voss. You're not a damn backpack," Rhys snapped, though he didn't actually push her away.

Mara shoved his shoulder, her boots skidding on the wet concrete of the industrial district. "Maybe if you didn't walk like you own the sidewalk, I wouldn't have to catch up. Where is it?"

"Right around this corner. And keep your voice down. This isn't a tourist spot."

They stopped in front of a brick wall that looked like every other wall in the sector—grey, peeling, and smelling of old grease. But as they stepped closer, the air started to vibrate. It wasn't a sound; it was a feeling in the teeth. A jagged, shimmering tear in the air, barely six feet high, pulsed with a sickly violet light.

"The Rift," Mara whispered. She reached for the black key tucked into her jacket. "Talia said this one was unstable. If we're fast, we can grab the shard and get out before the Corp's sensors trip."

Rhys stepped in front of her, his large frame blocking her path. He didn't look at the Rift; he looked at her. His eyes were hard, scanning her face for any sign of a lie. "Fast?