Page 32 of New World

Dorane grinned. Good. She still had a temper.

Cee leaned forward. “Do you know why I’m here, Dorane?”

He laughed and nodded. “You’re a Turbinta assassin, Cee. I have a bounty on my head. That’s like asking if I know the sky is black and if stars shine.”

Cee tilted her head slightly, watching him. “The Legion wants you dead.”

Dorane shrugged. “Hardly news.”

“It is a sizable amount,” she added, her voice unreadable.

Dorane’s smile didn’t fade, but his gaze sharpened slightly. “I’m sure it is. Let me guess, the Director of the Legion is feeling threatened.”

Cee gave a small, mocking bow of her head. “It would appear the dead general wanted to leave a parting gift for you as well. What did you do to upset them so badly?”

Dorane exhaled, dragging his fingers through his curls. “It might be easier to list what I haven’t done to piss them off.”

Cee smirked. “That, I can believe.”

She paused, her gaze flashing to the screens playing above the bar. “You know about the battle?”

Dorane leaned back, swirling his drink. “Of course. It’s a little hard to miss.”

“Rumor has it that Roan Landais defected and he is alive. His father… not so much,” Cee said bluntly.

Dorane didn’t react outwardly. She was fishing for information. She wanted to know where Roan was and if he had contacted him. She would have to keep wondering. What he didn’t expect was her next question.

“Where are the Ancient Knights?”

Dorane arched a brow, lips twitching. “How should I know?”

Cee pursed her lips together. “You know everything.”

Dorane was about to reply when a large, male patron crashed into their table. Dorane’s hand instinctively went to his weapon, but when his gaze snapped up, it landed, not on the drunken man, but the cloaked figure that the man had knocked against.

A startling awareness coiled through him. It was instant—and sharp. The figure was almost child size, but there was a grace in the alien’s movement, in the way the liquid in their glass barely moved, that captured his attention. His eyes flickered when the alien’s hand moved—slender fingers covered by black gloves.

A shadow moving through the light.

The thought flashed through his mind as the customer straightened, turned away, and staggered to the bar stool across from the table.

Dorane’s eyes narrowed, unease curling in his gut. The stagger had been graceful, almost like a dance step instead of a stumble. He vaguely heard Cee growling, “Watch yourself or you’ll be next!”

The drunkard turned to say something but paled and hurried away. Dorane dragged his gaze away from the small stranger sitting hunched at the bar. He exhaled slowly and shook his head at Cee, registering what she’d said.

“For the sake of our friendship—and all those lovely new upgrades—I really hope you’re not here to cash in on my bounty.”

Cee’s lips curled into a smile that wasn’t really a smile.

“Dorane,” she said softly, lifting the pistol in her hand, her mechanical fingers curling easily around the grip.

“It’s not personal, just business. I’m sure you understand.”

8

The moment Cee lifted her weapon, Mei reacted.

She didn’t think. She moved.

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