Page 10 of Claimed By the Wraiths

“I hate the parts of it that tried to kill my crew and experimented on three thousand people.”

“That’s most of it.”

“Not the part you came from.”

Her boot pressed against mine under the table.

I was aware of the contact. Completely. Against my will.

“I didn’t know that,” she said. “And every year I didn’t say something made it harder to start.”

“The crew doesn’t care where you came from,” I said. “They care that you fed them and watched their backs for seven years.”

She didn’t say anything for a while. Her fingers had stopped scrolling. She looked at the table between us.

“How long have you been at this?” she asked. “The Consortium. The work.”

“Years. The operation that started it was called Ebon Gate⁠—”

“I know what Vain did to the Rift Wraiths,” she said. “I’m not asking for the mission report.”

I looked at her.

“Then what are you asking for?”

“Something useless.”

“Useless.”

“Completely. Something that has never once helped you survive a firefight.”

I had no category for that.

She waited.

“When I was six, I had a saorik.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “A what?”

“A burrow-glider. Small.” I held my hands apart. “Charcoal-gray fur. Ears too large for its head. Four climbing feet. A membrane along the sides.”

“So it flew.”

“It glided.”

“That’s flying with less commitment.”

“It was not flying.”

Her mouth pulled sideways. “And this terrifying not-flying creature belonged to you?”

“It slept inside my shirt.”

She stared at me.

“It preferred body heat.”

“Of course it did.”