Chapter 32 · Dead Zone Pact

"Stop shaking. You're making the damn ship rattle," Lyra snapped, her voice tight with a panic she was trying to hide.

Kane didn't answer. He couldn't. He was slumped against the bulkhead of the rusted scavenger skiff, his chest heaving in jagged, shallow bursts. Every breath felt like he was inhaling shards of broken glass. The skin along his forearms was webbing with hairline fractures—dark, jagged cracks that bled a shimmering, violet light instead of blood.

"I told you not to take that last surge," she said, though she was already scrambling toward him, her boots clattering on the metal floor. She grabbed his shoulder, shoving him back against the wall to get a better look at the cracks. "You're overloading, Kane. Your body can't hold this much stolen power. You're literally splitting apart."

"I can... still... fight," Kane managed, his voice a low rasp. He tried to push her hand away, but his fingers barely had the strength to twitch.

"Fight what? The air?" Lyra shot back, her eyes scanning the flickering holographic display of the cockpit. "Vargas is five minutes out. He's not coming to negotiate; he's coming to collect the specimen.