Page 5 of Savage Bond

Now I’ve got their attention.

Nyra turns from her console, arms folded, chin lifted. “You want to chase ghost tech? That’s your call. But you better be damn sure we can breach and bounce before that convoy blinks.”

I nod. “Which is why we don’t touch the hauler’s core systems. Just the nav vault. We go quiet. We go fast. We get out.”

“And if the convoy fights back?” Renn asks, voice low with promise.

“Then we put 'em down.”

Simple.

Final.

I scan the room. No one argues. Good. I don’t have time for fear or morality or whining about IHC protocols. We’re not breaking laws out here—we’re writing our own.

The feed flickers. The convoy drifts into final intercept range.

“Lock in approach vector,” I command, voice flat. “Prep for breach on my mark.”

It’s not about tech or maps. It’s about power. Because power’s the only freedom worth dying for.

I suit up in silence. The reinforced harness clamps around my chest, each piece clicking into place with a sound like a countdown. I flex my fingers as the gloves seal. No ceremony. No speeches. Just metal and breath and blood warming in my veins.

Nyra meets me at the hatch. Her expression’s carved from stone.

“Last chance to abort,” she says, and she doesn’t mean it.

I grin, baring teeth. “Tell me you’re not getting wet from the tension.”

She rolls her eyes and slaps the final seal on the breach pack. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re still here.”

She hands me the charge detonator. Our fingers brush. Nothing lingers.

Renn steps up next, locking in behind me with a sound like a gun cocking. “Ready to rip and run, boss.”

He’s got that look. The one he gets before a massacre. I could leash him, but what would be the point? Better to aim him at the right throat and let nature do the rest.

“Stick to the plan,” I say without looking back. “Nav vault only. We get what we came for, then ghost out.”

The red light over the breach door starts to blink. My pulse doesn’t change, but my breath deepens. The void outside is blackand endless—our kind of dark. The feed shows the IHC ship’s underbelly, gleaming like a fat fish begging to be gutted.

“On my mark,” I say, voice like stone cracking.

One second.

Two.

The hatch hisses open.

We jump.

CHAPTER 3

AVA

Iwake up before the alarm. Not because I’m some model soldier, but because I barely slept. My bunk’s too small, the hum of the engines buzzes through the walls like a second heartbeat, and my brain won’t shut off. First mission. First shot. I can’t fuck it up.

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