On the other side of the galaxy, Bishop's spaceship tore through the void, enemies hot on his tail.
"Yves, just like in the game," Bishop said, yanking down a canister from overhead. On both sides were doorways, but he fit Yves inside, locking her into position. When it reached her height, he stopped.
Inside the canister, a screen flickered to life, surrounded by buttons, switches, and joysticks. Yves pressed a button, and the display lit up.
"Calibrate," the system repeated every few seconds until Yves flipped a switch. She gripped the right joystick, panning the ship's gun turret. The moment an enemy ship came into view, she squeezed the trigger. A blast shot out, and she tapped the trigger a few more times before quickly flipping another switch. This time, when she held it down, the gun fired continuously.
"Whoa!" Yves shouted, her voice filled with excitement as a pursuing ship erupted into flames. Bishop saw the enemy signal vanish from his screen and grinned.
"That's my girl."
Bishop abruptly stalled the ship's vertical rotation, sending it into a controlled spin, dodging incoming fire. He yanked the controls, ascending fast—one of the enemy ships stayed right on them.
Yves locked onto it and fired. The ship took a direct hit, exploding in a fiery blast. The ship behind it wasn't fast enough to react—caught in the debris, it spiraled out of control before vanishing in a burst of light.
A piece of debris struck their ship, sending a violent jolt through the hull. Warning lights flashed across the control panel. Bishop gritted his teeth and scanned for a safe landing.
"Hold on," he muttered, eyes locking onto the nearest station—Lapaz.
Yves, still locked into the gun controls, took aim at the last pursuing ship. A well-placed shot sent it spiraling into oblivion.
"Got it!" she cheered.
Bishop didn't waste time. With the ship damaged, he maneuvered toward Lapaz Station, guiding them in for a rough but stable dock.
As the engines powered down, Bishop exhaled. This is getting too dangerous. He had tried for years to find Adam—three long years of dead ends. Now, with the Syndicate still after him, the chase hadn't let up.
He stepped onto the station platform, eyeing the scorch marks and dents on the ship's hull. A mechanic approached, rubbing grease from his hands.
"How much will that set me back?" Bishop asked, nodding toward the damage.
"Three hundred," the mechanic said flatly. "That's without fuel."
"Three hundred?" Bishop scoffed. "I could fix it myself for less."
Still, he transferred half the money and let the mechanic get to work.
"Come on," he said to Yves. "Let's look around."
They walked into the station, blending into the crowd.
Adam, Hezme, and Shuxeta needed a place to lay low.
"Let's go to my place," Shuxeta suggested. "No one will look for us there."
Hezme pulled out her phone.
"What are you doing?" Shuxeta snapped.
"Booking us a ride."
Shuxeta rolled her eyes and yanked the phone from Hezme's hands. "They can track your phone, idiot." Without hesitation, she hurled it into the street.
"Hey!" Hezme gasped, reaching for it, but before she could, a passing vehicle crushed it under its wheels.
Adam stifled a chuckle.
Shuxeta sighed. "Let's go."
After a long walk, they arrived at a sleek, modern high-rise. It was much larger and more elegant than Hezme's place. A doorman opened the glass entrance for them.
Inside, the apartment was cold and impersonal—no family photos, no signs of life, just expensive-looking artwork.
"You live here?" Adam asked, taking in the pristine space.
Shuxeta hesitated.
"I mean… did you?" he clarified.
"Yeah. For about three months, I think," she replied, already heading toward the bathroom.
"I need a bath," she announced before disappearing inside.
Adam and Hezme exchanged glances.
"Hezme" Adam started. "We now know your brother may have been involved in the Gray Goose Project. We're getting closer to the truth. Are you sure you can handle…."
Before he could finish, Hezme leaned in and kissed him.
She pulled back immediately, eyes wide. "I'm sorry. That was a mis—"
Adam silenced her with another kiss.
When they finally broke apart, Hezme whispered, "What about Shuxeta?"
"What about her?" Adam asked.
"I thought you and her were… a thing?"
Adam shook his head. "No. Just friends." He brushed his fingers across Hezme's cheek, and she leaned into his touch. Their lips met again, this time without hesitation.
The moment was interrupted when Shuxeta re-entered, still dripping wet, wrapped in a towel.
"I'm done," she said, raising an eyebrow. "But you guys know there are three other bathrooms, right? My bad—I should've been a better host."
She walked past them toward her bedroom.
Adam stared a little too long.
Hezme smacked his arm.
"You kissed me thinking she and I were together," Adam teased.
"I had to," Hezme admitted. "I've wanted to do that since I met you. I thought it might be my last chance."
Adam pulled her close again. "It won't be."
"I had wanted to do that too ever since I met you," Adam admitted.
Hezme smiled. She reached for his hand, and he took it, lacing his fingers with hers as they walked toward the bathroom.
Late that night, a scream shattered the silence.
Adam shot up, heart pounding. Hezme stirred beside him as the scream came again—Shuxeta.
Without hesitation, Adam rushed to her room.
Shuxeta sat on her bed, shivering, her arms wrapped around herself. Her wide, unfocused eyes darted around the room.
"They're here," she whispered, then louder, "They're still here!"
Adam knelt beside her and pulled her into a tight embrace, rocking her gently. "Shh… you're safe," he murmured, though his own eyes flickered around the room.
The place was a wreck. Furniture overturned, shattered glass on the floor—it looked like a tornado had torn through.
Hezme arrived moments later, lingering in the doorway. She took in the scene, her expression unreadable as she watched Adam holding Shuxeta.
The tension in the room thickened.
Something was very, very wrong.