Page 160 of Star Claimed Omega
‘Nada,’ Xander growled, the remnants of heat still rough in his timbre. ‘You’re here now. Speak.’
Savvine broke free of her husband’s hold, smoothing her jacket. ‘What’s on your mind, Miral?’
Miral straightened and eyed them both. ‘It’s about Santi and Soleil.’
Xander moved to the viewport, arms folded, his spectral energy flashing beneath the surface of his honey-gold skin. ‘Speak.’
Savvine sat on the edge of the desk, her expression tightened, her eyes locked on Miral.
Miral stepped forward and activated her embedded device, casting shimmering data streams into the air: comms transcripts, footage fragments, intercepted orders, and a single burning red locator beacon.
‘I have news,’ Miral stated, her voice steeped with satisfaction. ‘I might have foundher.’
27
Chapter 27
SOLEIL
Half a million klicks away, a burgundy-haired, slight woman slipped through the dim corridors of 65 Cybele.
Her steps echoed throughout the rust-veined tunnel floors she traversed.
Clad in a worn cloak and simple jumpsuit, she merged with the constant hustle of the never-sleeping hallways.
Winding her way from the dorm blocks toward the outer habitation ring.
She pushed a hand through her shorter, tighter pixie cut, a mode she adopted since hacking off her long locks weeks ago upon arrival at Cybele.
The style served anonymity, yes, but it helped her block out the memory of her lover running his hands through her hair.
She shook off the image of his handsome, sculpted face, dodging a growling courier to slip into the packed maglev train.
The carrier screamed its way toward the space port.
The air reeked of recycled ozone and too many strangers breathing too close together.
Far above her head, the asteroid spun, simulating a weak 0.3g gravity that tugged at her bones without ever letting her forget she stood on no planet.
Cybele Station had been one of the first human footholds in the Wildlight Expanse.
Half a generation ago, the Accord, along with DarkNet money, pirates, and vigilantes, carved it into a bustling junction of survival and chaos.
Now it housed over six million permanent residents, and a myriad more drifted through on any given day. Hundreds of ships docked daily, trading fuel, goods, people, and secrets.
Yet none of that vast, chaotic life counted now.
What mattered was the fact that her sleep sucked.
She was unable to run away from him when she lay in her small cot.
She told herself the worst part was over. That was what people said.
She and Santi were broken clean in two; there was nothing left to hold on to.
She whispered it under her breath like a promise:it’s done, you’re through.
Yet the echo of his silence still filled the bunk.
