Page 12 of Zayrik

“What the hell did you do, thief?”

I wet my lips. “Nothing.”

He gave me a thorough once over.Assessing, reading, not missing a damn thing.

“Right,” he murmured. “Which is why Katar Stationlit up like a warzonetrying to keep you there. And why the second I won this shipthe guy who lost it practically ran for his life.”

I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t have one.

Not one I could tell him, anyway.

His jaw shifted like he was weighing his options. Then,he tossed my jacket at me.

The breath I’d been holding finally released. I snatched it up, fingersimmediatelypressing into the lining, checking....

It was still there. Relief poured through me.

He noticed.Because, of course he did.

“I’m Zayrik, by the way,” he said, arms crossing again. “Since this impromptu partnership seems to be extending beyond your rescue.”

“Nyla,” I offered, then immediately regretted it.Stupid. Giving my real name to a stranger.

“I know,” he replied, making my blood run cold. “Your friendly AI mentioned it while you were out.”

I shot a murderous glare at Nav. The wrist device blinked innocently.

Zayrik pushed off the console, stretching his arms overhead like this was just another normal day. “Well, Nyla, since you’re awake, I should update you on our situation.”

I tensed. “What?”

He offered a grin, yet his eyes betrayed no mirth. “The ship’s damaged. And we’re drifting in a barely-traveled sector with just enough power to keep life support running.

“Define ‘damaged,’” I demanded, clutching my jacket tighter.

“Ship’s stabilizers are shot. Jump drives overheated. Comm array is fried, and we have about one and a half rotations of life support remaining.” He shrugged, as though discussing mild inconveniences instead of potential death. “So, unless you’ve got some magical repair skills hidden in that precious jacket of yours...”

Zep chirped anxiously.

“The probability of rescue in this sector is approximately twelve-point seven percent,” Nav announced helpfully.

I closed my eyes. “Shit.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Zayrik responded.

5

Zayrik

THE SHIP WAS TOO SMALL.

I wasn’t claustrophobic, but I was starting to thinkshewas.

Nyla sat stiffly in the co-pilot’s seat, arms crossed tight, one foot bouncing in an uneven rhythm. Her eyes flicked to the console, then the door, then me. Like she was mapping every exit, every possible escape route.

Yeah. She’d definitely done this before.

I adjusted our course, ignoring the way she tensed when I brushed against her arm.

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