Page 19 of New World

It took less than five seconds.

The assassin moved into view—a silhouette against the neon reflections in the alley’s puddles. Dorane studied his opponent when he paused just out of the light. Tall, lean, dressed in a dark fitted bodysuit with reinforced armor plating. Disappointment filled him.

A bounty hunter.

There wouldn’t be much of a fight. The man would be more used to bringing in his prey alive than killing them. He would hesitate when it mattered. Whoever had put a price on Dorane’s head must have made it enough to entice the idiots who were too stupid to live.

In a blur of movement, Dorane struck.

The assassin barely had time to react before Dorane’s blow brutally connected with the man’s ribs, sending him stumbling sideways into a sharp, pointed edge of an open crate. The scent of blood, the man’s grunt of pain, and the clatter of the man’s weapon against the ground made Dorane smile. He almost felt sorry for the bounty hunter—almost.

The man twisted, his fingers fumbling for another weapon, but Dorane was already ahead of him. The weapon in his hand glowed briefly as it sliced through clothing, flesh, and bone. The assassin’s mouth opened in a silent scream, shock pouring through the man as he grabbed what was left of his arm and fell to his knees.

The fight was over.

Dorane stepped forward, holding his weapon against the assassin’s throat. He couldn’t see the man’s face. It was obscured by the helmet he was wearing. The assassin’s breathing was heavy and uneven, the sound of it mixing with anguished moans. The smell of urine filled the alley.

“You really shouldn’t have taken this assignment,” Dorane tsked. “This is far above your pay skill.”

Dorane’s reflection stared back at him in the faint glow of the man’s visor. He pressed the glowing tip of his weapon just below the man’s neck.

“Who sent you?”

Silence.

Dorane sighed. He shifted his grip, sending a short but powerful charge into the man. A thin line of dark blood welled against the edge.

“Let’s try this again. I can be very patient,” he murmured. “But you look like you don’t have that kind of time.”

The assassin exhaled sharply. “There’s a price on your head—a good one.”

Dorane raised a brow. “How about telling me something I don’t know, like who placed it?”

“A powerful man.”

Dorane chuckled. “A wealthy one, yes. A powerful one, maybe. A smart one would have known better.” His smile turned sharp. “Give me a name?”

The assassin remained silent.

Dorane sighed and tilted his head. He hated when his opponents thought he would show mercy. They would die. It was just up to them how fast it happened. Impatient, he reached down and pulled the man’s helmet off. He already knew what he looked like. He didn’t need to stare into his reflection. What he wanted to know was who the idiot was who thought they could kill him.

Beneath the visor, Dorane recognized the Melskarian that was a frequent visitor to the moon. The normally deep violet skin, marked with faint bioluminescent patterns that pulsed in time with his breathing, was now a pale, translucent violet. His jet-black eyes were glazed with pain and defiance.

“I thought you were smarter than this, Bro’qi,” he noted. “You don’t take jobs lightly. Which means someone really wanted me dead or you were really desperate.”

Bro’qi clenched his jaw but said nothing. Dorane sighed theatrically, tightening his grip.

“Come now, at least tell me who is stupid enough to?—”

“The Legion.”

The words were barely above a whisper. Dorane’s amusement faded. He had expected it to happen one day. He had known that his power, wealth, influence, and personal army would eventually be considered a threat by Coleridge and Andri Andronikos, but hearing it confirmed sent a pulse of cold fury through his veins.

There were only two people in the Legion who had the power—and the arrogance—to put a price on his head.

“Which one?” Dorane pressed before he shook his head in sardonic amusement that didn’t reach his eyes. “Or was it both?”

Bro’qi hesitated. Dorane could see the light beginning to fade along with the bounty hunter’s coloring. He had lost a lot of blood.

---