Page 137 of Star Claimed Omega
Terror sucked the air from their lungs.
They scrambled, their movements jerky and desperate.
One man clutched his broken arm as he stumbled toward the exit; the other limped after him, clutching his groin andleaving a thin trail of blood behind, abandoning their mohawked companion.
The door hissed shut behind them.
Santi and Kaal’s features relaxed, the claws and fangs receding, their eyes still burning with feral power.
The Hollow Fangfell silent.
Patrons stared, some with awe, some with pure fear.
Kaal wiped a fleck of blood from his cheek and grinned.
‘Anyone else feel like bleeding?’ he growled.
No one answered.
Miral raised her drink again, toasting the corpse on the floor. ‘Seems these pirates need to pick their victims with more care.’
Santi cracked his neck and stepped back from the ruin. ‘No fun if they’re smart.’
The bartender, who’d vanished behind the counter moments earlier, popped back up and set a clean bottle on the bar, flicking wary glances at the trio.
Miral jerked her chin. ‘Put the damage on our tab. Signet always pays its bills.’
The bartender bowed and bobbed his head in relief.
A soft ping sounded on the Synth-AI’s wrist comm.
‘Our contact is here,’ Miral announced
True to her word, a tall, rail-thin man sidled toward them, with skin like old paper and a long black coat glimmering at the seams.
His hair was bone-white, and his eyes were mismatched: one a synthetic lens, the other human and gray-silver.
An argent band bore the mark of the Carvajal mafia clan across his left palm.
‘Landon Carvajal as I live and breathe,’ Santi growled. ‘How’s Pedro?’
‘Still running the cartel, although the deal with Xander declawed him,’ Landon murmured with some self-satisfaction.
‘Still not made up with your brother then?’ Kaal pushed.
Landon’s eyes flared with ire. ‘Never, he shoved me out of the family, called me the black sheep, didn’t want to share the spoils.’
‘I see,’ Santi grunted. ‘Love to sit around and chat about the warm and fuzzies, but still operating back door comms through the asteroid ports?’
‘Depends,’ Landon rasped.
‘You intercept any chatter onTheRedSkulls? Where they hole up, to be specific?’
Landon sat up. ‘Perhaps. What’s it worth?’
‘Walking out of here alive.’
‘Fokk, you Signetkinais, always going for the jugular.’
