Page 47 of Claimed By the Wraiths

“We don’t need them anymore.”

“That sounded suspiciously like good news.”

“The conference ended days ago.”

His mouth tightened. “Which means my family knows I didn’t come home. So does my office.” He looked toward the locked door. “Vain’s people asked me whether I left instructions with anyone. Whether I set anything to release if I disappeared.”

“They still need answers.”

“For now.”

“For now is enough.”

He gave me a tired look. “That line is not better.”

I left him where he was.

I hated it more the second time.

Days ten through twelve were rehearsal.

Holding to hub by the spine: fastest, most exposed.

Holding to hub through ventilation: slower, difficult with an injured person, almost invisible.

Lateral shaft: best compromise if the patrol cycle held.

I ran each route until I could move it without light. I found the exact places where I would have to cache the blaster before compressing and the places where I could retrieve it afterward. I marked nothing that another person could find.

The meld came up and went down. Up and down. Never continuously.

That mattered less to my body than I wanted it to.

The damage accumulated anyway.

A blank second at a junction. A hand that felt too far from my wrist. A shadow that stayed attached to the wall after I had already stepped away and made me stop until my eyes agreed with reality again.

I returned to the cache. Ate. Drank. Slept when I could.

Then I went back out.

On the thirteenth day, the flush comm clicked once.

A low-power burst. One way. No handshake for the station to catch.

Deyric’s voice, compressed almost beyond recognition.

“Exploit clean. One-use token frozen. Assault window set. Seventeen hours.”

Then silence.

I stood in the service void with one hand braced against the coolant manifold and let the words settle.

They were here.

Not arriving. Not coming eventually.

Here.