RUJIN’S POV The loud hiss of the doors sealing behind us was the sweetest sound I’d heard in years, and for several seconds, nobody spoke.
The Grand Corridor stretched before us in polished obsidian and mirrored chrome, reflecting three figures that looked like survivors of a battlefield rather than victors of a political hearing.
I broke the silence first.
“If I ever have to sit through another council meeting, I’m detonating the entire floor and everything along with it.” Vane snorted.
“That’s exactly what you just did.” “Not the entire floor.” I snapped with irritation.
“An important distinction.” Vane chuckled “Very.” I nodded, and Koro laughed under his breath.
I glanced back at him, and he was limping slightly, his wrists still glowing with residual violet current from the fried dampener cuffs.
“You find this amusing?” “A little.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“A little?” I raised one eyebrow.
Koro shrugged.
“You should’ve seen Vance’s face.” Even Vane smiled at that.
“Oh, I saw Vance’s face,” Vane said.
“I’ve spent twenty years dreaming about seeing Vance’s face look exactly like that.” “The explosion helped.” I pointed out.
“The explosion helped tremendously.” He nodded.
We continued walking, and the Thermal Lock pulsed between us, a golden thread reflected in the mirrored walls.
Vane’s gaze swept the corridor.
“You’re still smoking.” I looked down, and the thin wisps of heat curled from my sleeves.
“I’m recovering.” “You set a lead-lined containment chamber on fire.” “It exploded.” “You exploded it.” “There is a difference.” “Not from a budget perspective.” Koro barked out a laugh.
“You have a budget?” “I manage an empire,” I said.
“You manage a disaster.” Koro grinned.
“Also true.” Vane rubbed his forehead.
“I hate both of you.” “No, you don’t.” “No,” he admitted.
“Unfortunately, I don’t.” Koro folded his arms.
“You know what my favorite part was?” I sighed.
“This should be good.” “The part where Vance shouted for the guards.” Koro chuckled.
Vane grinned.
“Oh, that was excellent.” “GUARDS!” Koro mimicked dramatically.
His voice echoed through the corridor.
“‘Protect the Syndicate!'” I groaned.
“Please stop.” “‘Arrest them!'” Koro continued making fun of Vance.
“Koro,” I warned him.
“‘Contain the Dragon Don!'” Koro yelled.
“Koro.” I huffed.
“‘Somebody save the furniture!'” Vane doubled over laughing, and I stared at both of them.
“You realize we nearly died.” “You nearly die every Tuesday,” Koro snickered.
“That’s not the point,” I responded in defense.
“It kind of is.” His smile faded slightly.
“Besides…” The humor disappeared from his eyes.
“You were losing control, and I needed to do something or else you would have torched all of us in the room.” The corridor suddenly felt colder, and I looked ahead.
“So were you.” “Yeah.” He nodded in a huff.
“You knew what would happen when you entered that cylinder.” I stared at him, and our eyes clashed.
“Yeah.” “You could have died.” My voice lowered at the words.
Koro’s jaw tightened.
“So could you.” For a moment, neither of us spoke, and then Vane cleared his throat.
” What a wonderful, shared trauma.
Very romantic.” “Shut up, Vane.” “Immediately.” He nodded, and then he checked his wrist comm, and then the amusement vanished from his face.
“We have a problem.” I knew that tone.
“What now?” “Vance recovered faster than expected.” Koro groaned.
“Of course he did.” Vane flicked several holographic screens into existence.
“He has already bypassed my command network.” “How long do we have ?” “Three minutes,” Vane reported.
“That fast?” “He was probably drafting the order before the explosion.” Vana snickered.
Koro looked at me.
“What order?” “A retrieval order,” I answered.
His expression darkened immediately.
“They’re coming for me.” “They’re coming for us.
There is no you or me.” The distinction mattered, and he noticed, and his eyes narrowed.
“You don’t have to pretend,” Koro muttered.
“I’m not.” I took one step towards him.
“You captured me and kept me locked up.” The words hit harder than they should have, and Vane immediately looked away.
“Koro—” “No.” His voice echoed sharply through the corridor.
“No, don’t do that.” “Do what?” “Talk to me like I should be grateful,” Koro growled.
The golden thread pulsed violently.
“You told me Vex sold me.” “I told you what I believed would keep you alive.” I defended myself.
“You lied.” “I protected you.” “You chained me.” The corridor temperature dropped and then rose.
Then dropped again, and the lock reacted to every emotion.
Every accusation.
Every lie.
Every truth.
Vane stepped between us before either of us could say something worse.
“Children.” He snickered.
” Dont fight: “We are not children.” I snapped.
“You are both acting like children.” “I’m older than you,” I reminded him.
“Then you’re a disappointing adult.” Vane huffed in response, and Koro snorted.
I hated that they were teaming up, and Vane pointed toward the approaching lift.
“We can continue discussing your mutual emotional devastation later.” “We’re not discussing emotions.” I snapped at him.
“Sure,” Vane responded.
“We’re discussing betrayal.” I asserted.
“That’s just emotions wearing armor,” Vane responded, and the elevator doors opened, and none of us moved immediately.
Vane sighed.
“Please get into the lift before the assassination squad arrives.” That got our attention, and I stepped inside first, and Koro followed, maintaining the mandatory ten-foot distance.
The doors slid shut, and the elevator began descending.
After seconds of silence, Koro spoke.
“Micah told me everything.” I looked at him.
“What exactly did he tell you?” “That Vex never sold me,” I said nothing.
“That you bought the tunnel.” Still nothing.
“That you had been tracking me for months.” The silence became answer enough, and Koro laughed bitterly.
“Unbelievable.” “You were dying,” I stated.
“That wasn’t your decision to make.” He asserted.
“It became my decision the moment the Thermal Lock chose you,” I explained.
“The Lock didn’t choose me,” Koro growled at me, and his eyes blazed.
“It did.” I insisted.
“It trapped me.” “It saved you.” “It enslaved me.” The elevator temperature surged.
Warning lights flickered.
Vane pointed upward.
“Congratulations.
You’re arguing so hard you’re overheating military infrastructure.” Neither of us listened, and Koro took a step forward.
“You wanted a tool.” “I wanted to survive,” I growled.
“You wanted a weapon.” Koro pointed.
“I wanted you.” The words escaped before I could stop them.
There was silence.
Even Vane stopped moving, and Koro froze, and his eyes widened, and the elevator suddenly felt far too small.
I cursed internally, and Vane slowly looked away.
“Oh.” “Koro—” “No.” His voice came out quieter this time and dangerously quieter, and the elevator chimed, and the doors opened, and saved by timing.
Vane immediately stepped out.
“Wonderful conversation.
Let’s never have it again.” I followed, and Koro came after us, and the doors to the Obsidian Suite sealed behind us with a heavy metallic boom.
The outside world disappeared, and I turned.
Koro stood in the center of the living area, rigid as a drawn blade, and his eyes never left mine.
Neither of us spoke, and finally, Vane broke the silence.
“Well.” We both looked at him, and he pointed toward the security monitors.
“The Board is mobilizing strike teams.” Then he pointed between us.
“And whatever that was?” He shook his head.
“That seems like a significantly bigger problem.” The corners of Koro’s mouth twitched despite himself, and I exhaled slowly, and the fire in my chest settled into a low burn.
“We’re trapped.” Koro folded his arms.
“The cage got smaller.” I met his gaze.
“No, little wolf.” The golden thread pulsed brightly between us.
“The cage disappeared.” Outside the suite, alarms began to howl, and inside, nobody smiled as trouble had finally followed us home.
Give me more motivation!