Chapter 18 · The Rip and Tear

"Get behind me. Now!" Kane shoved Lyra back, his palm slamming into her shoulder with enough force to send her stumbling toward the rusted bulkhead.

He didn't wait to see if she landed on her feet. He was already staring into the shimmering air, where the light bent like oil on water. Nothing was there, but his skin was screaming. The fine hairs on his arms stood up, and a cold, electric prickle raced down his spine.

"What do you mean 'behind you'?" Lyra snapped, her voice shaking as she scrambled up. "There's nothing there, Kane!"

"That's the point," Kane hissed. He stepped forward, his boots crunching on a pile of discarded circuit boards. "They're cloaked. High-grade Empire stealth. They aren't coming to talk."

Something whistled through the air—a thin, metallic shriek. Kane pivoted, his arm blurring as he caught a wrist-blade mid-swing. The impact vibrated up his shoulder, a jarring shock that would have snapped a normal man's radius. He didn't flinch. He gripped the blade with his bare hand, the edge slicing deep into his palm, but he didn't let go.

"Got you," he whispered.

Suddenly, the air rippled. A figure materialized—