Page 30 of New World

Minutes before:

* * *

The soft chime of the lift was almost drowned out by the irritated muttering of Dorane’s companion as she paced inside. Dorane fought against grinning when Asta’s tail flicked in sharp agitation. Jammer wasn’t as successful at smothering his amusement, drawing an irate glare from Asta. Dorane half-listened, hands resting in his coat pockets as he stared at the slow flicker of floor indicators on the control panel.

“I swear to every damn god in this galaxy, I am not paid enough to deal with this level of stupidity,” Asta growled, glaring at him. “You know this is a trap, right? You’re walking into a bar to meet a Turbinta assassin like you’re catching up with an old lover over drinks.”

Jammer shuddered at the thought. “Please tell me that you never slept with Cee,” he murmured.

Dorane shot his friends a disgusted look. “You assume all my lovers are the violent sort… and to answer your question, Jammer; no, I never slept with Cee. I do have a little self-respect.”

“More like a sense of self-preservation,” Jammer muttered.

“I know all your lovers are violent. I’m usually the one who has to deal with them when they try to kill you,” Asta shot back.

Behind her, Jammer rumbled with laughter, leaning against the lift railing with his massive arms folded across his chest. “Can’t argue with that.”

Dorane ignored them. Despite his nonchalant outward appearance, his thoughts were all strategy, as was necessary when dealing with Cee 585. Cee was a Turbinta assassin, highly skilled, dangerous, and—above all else—currently sitting in Deek’s, waiting for him.

She hadn’t slipped onto Cryon II undetected. Not exactly. One of his security guards had helped her in. The poor bastard was probably no longer breathing thanks to a very sudden case of explosive decompression if he knew his two companions. They would not show mercy to anyone who betrayed him.

They probably tossed him out of Level 32’s airlock, he mused. The pressure seals were old, and that meant cleanup would have been minimal. Asta was efficient like that.

“Do you want to know what’s really pissing me off?” Asta asked.

“No,” he replied.

Asta continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “It’s that you’re not even worried. You knew she was here—didn’t you?”

Dorane gave her an affable grin. “Of course I knew.”

Asta cursed under her breath and smacked the lift’s control panel so hard, it beeped in protest.

“You enjoy making my life difficult,” she accused.

“Constantly. If you were bored, you’d quit, and I can’t have that. Do you have any idea how difficult it would be to train someone new?” he asked as if outraged at the thought.

“Sometimes I really hate you, Dorane,” Asta hissed.

“For all of two seconds before you realize I’m right,” he retorted.

“Can’t argue with that, Asta,” Jammer said.

“Shut up, Jammer,” Asta muttered.

The lift doors hissed open. Level 12. Dorane stepped out first, pausing as a group of pedestrians moved past. The station’s artificial lighting flickered in strips along the ceiling, casting a pale, electric glow over the metal streets.

“Jammer, make a note to have mechanical take a look at the lighting again. Their new programming leaves a lot to be desired,” Dorane requested.

“I already spoke to them,” Jammer replied.

Dorane continued forward at a leisurely pace. Once again, the sensation of being watched curled around him. The awareness had been following him for weeks now.

It wasn’t paranoia. He knew what that felt like. No—this was deliberate. Someone was playing a long game, watching him from the periphery, waiting.

He hated being toyed with. He really hated it.

His gaze flicked upward toward the crisscrossing metal beams and dim observation platforms overhead. Nothing. But that didn’t mean no one was there.

---