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  Riza and Amalia quietly led Violet from the town square. She didn’t resist. The woman who usually grounded their crew—who held firm even when the rest of them cracked—looked hollow now. Like something inside her had finally broken.

  Veolo watched them go, jaw tight. Then she turned toward the cluster of figures nearby: Raine, Brolgar, and Brana.

  “Raine,” Veolo said, her voice steady. “Take Tamiyo to the mayor. His hand’s a mess.”

  Raine nodded once and moved to leave without a word.

  Veolo raised a hand. “One more thing.” She beckoned Raine closer.

  Her voice hushed, Veolo said, “Make damn sure she doesn’t go near Amaryn’s house. I don’t care what excuse you give her—just keep her away. She doesn’t need to see that.”

  “Of course,” Raine answered, and quickly hurried over to where Tamiyo stood with the rest of the crowd.

  Footsteps approached and Veolo turned to see Soren and Inelius walking toward her, faces grim.

  “What do you need from us?” Soren asked, voice quieter than usual. He still had the faintest glow in his eyes from his adrenaline pushing at his latent power.

  Veolo bent down and picked up Morgan’s Mercy from the dirt. She stared at the weight of it in her hand before turning it toward Soren, grip-first.

  “Secure this in the ship,” she said.

  Soren accepted the gun with a faint nod, but didn’t move.

  “…And then?” he asked.

  “Then you’re staying there.”

  His brow furrowed. “Why?”

  Veolo stared at him. Then she reached out and grabbed his collar, pulling him down until their faces were an inch away from each other.

  “Because we’ve all seen the way you isolate at night, Soren. The way you go off to ‘meditate’ like you’re not hiding from forming real bonds. We have got to rely on one another, and right now, you are needed.”

  Her voice didn’t rise, but it hit like a hammer. “So I’m saying it now, plain as I can: if you try to isolate yourself tonight, I swear to every god in this galaxy I will beat the shit out of you.”

  Inelius made a sound like he might laugh, but didn’t.

  “Understood,” Soren said. His mouth stayed firm, but his eyes softened.

  She shoved him away and he turned, heading towards the ship.

  Veolo sighed, then looked at Inelius.

  “Orders?” he asked, slightly cocking his head to the side. Although they didn’t have an official rank structure, he was technically higher in the chain of command than she was in their group.

  “Cute,” Veolo answered in a tired tone. “You’re on Tamiyo duty. Stay with her while she treats the mayor.”

  He straightened. “You think she’s in danger?”

  Veolo looked at Cale’s mutilated corpse to answer him. “Just keep her safe,” she said.

  “What about Aura?” Inelius asked. He looked off to the mayor’s building. “She already followed Venlin back inside.”

  “Kick her out,” Veolo answered.

  “You really think she’ll listen?”

  “I have the utmost confidence in you, Major Drozek.” Veolo tapped him on the shoulder. “Aura was in the thickest of the fighting today with Soren and Violet while we got to lay around and pull triggers. She needs to rest.”

  Inelius nodded and took his leave.

  Brolgar shifted his weight, glancing toward the cooling body of Cale. “What do we do with that one?” he asked.

  Before Veolo could answer, Tarnik’s voice rose behind them.

  “Leave it,” he said, quietly.

  Veolo turned and looked at him. He wasn’t posturing or trying to explain anything. He was still sitting where Violet and knocked him to the dirt, blood drying across his chin. He looked tired and ashamed.

  “We’ll handle it,” Tarnik said. “He’s our sin.”

  “Very well,” she responded, tone clipped and cold. But something about his demeanor made her waiver. She was far from trusting him—but for the first time, she didn’t immediately want to break his jaw.

  She looked back at Brana and Brolgar. “Let’s go.”

  The three of them walked toward Amaryn’s home in silence.

  They stopped just outside.

  The front door still hung open, warped slightly from where Violet had slammed through it. The tracks she had left when she sprinted after Cale were dug deep into the dirt, stained crimson. Just inside, it was evident how gruesome of an encounter had taken place.

  “We’ll go first,” Brana said. “You’ve seen enough violence for one day, V.”

  “I can handle it,” Veolo protested.

  “No lass,” Brolgar looked at her firm. “Just because y’can, does nah mean y’should.”

  “Are you sure you’re up for this, Brolgar?” Veolo asked, accepting resignation.

  “Aye,” he answered. “I cleaned both of m’boys.” His voice choked a little. “I’ll treat the girl with care.”

  The two d’moria moved to step through the doorway.

  Veolo let out a shuddering breath, and waited outside.

  The next day was quiet.

  The people of Boadicea kept their distance. Whether out of shame, fear, or both, no one interfered with the team. No one asked them to resume their repair work. Not that the crew had any intention of picking up tools. They’d done in weeks what the townsfolk never could have in months. The job was done.

  Riza had contacted the Liberty Union as soon as they got Violet back to the ship. A shuttle arrived before the sun even came up, carrying a portable cryo-stasis unit. Amaryn’s body was sealed inside it now, tucked away in one of the ship’s storage bays, waiting for Violet to be ready. The team didn’t push her.

  The day after, everyone still felt on edge. Everyone was grieving in their own way, and they felt trapped in a town that had betrayed them.

  Veolo felt it most in her body. The restless itch in her muscles. The unbearable tension beneath her skin. She’d spent hours training in silence—striking against a sandbag, sprinting laps around the outer fence, stretching until she couldn’t feel her thoughts anymore. But it wasn’t enough. She needed something. Someone. Physical closeness. Warmth. Friction. Anything to burn away the weight of the last couple days.

  And yet, the options felt limited.

  Everyone was hurting. Everyone was emotionally radioactive.

  As Veolo jogged the perimeter of Boadicea, she saw Soren sitting on the large rock he liked to meditate on. His eyes were closed, posture loose. The barest hum of gravity shimmered around him, like heat waves off pavement.

  “Well look at that,” Veolo said as she approached. “You actually do meditate from time to time instead of hiding.”

  His eyes opened, and he looked at her with a kind expression. He didn’t seem surprised to see her. “Maybe I just like the quiet.”

  “8,000 years floating in space didn’t give you enough quiet?” She sat beside him with a grunt, stretching out her legs and exhaling. A beat of silence passed before she glanced sideways.

  “You’re lonely,” Soren said before Veolo could open her mouth.

  Her eyes narrowed at him, and her nostrils flared. “And? What’s it to you? Not like you can do anything about it, Aura has you all off-limits. Whatever the fuck that’s about.” She rolled her eyes and looked away.

  Soren laughed. “Did she actually say that?”

  “Might as well have.”

  “Color me flattered, Veolo,” he said warmly. “Yes, you are correct, I don’t think I will be doing much to help ease the fire under your skin, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be worried about a friend.”

  “We friends now?” she cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “Don’t be mean,” he said in a light tone.

  He wasn’t doing anything excessive, but it annoyed the shit out of Veolo how attracted she was feeling to him at the moment. She needed to find a way to redirect her energy.

  “How are you and Aura doing?” Veolo asked.

  “Well enough, I suppose,” Soren answered. “She’s keeping me at arm’s length, but there’s a lot going on. I think… Nevermind. I probably shouldn’t say.”

  “What is it? I could really use the distraction.”

  “I think… she might be afraid to get close to me,” Soren said carefully. “I don’t know, I’m not sure, I’m still figuring out how you all work.”

  Veolo took a deep breath and thought about what he said before exhaling slowly. “Aura has always been able to rely on her strength as a fighter. I mean just look at how vicious she is on a battlefield, rivaling even yourself despite no…” she waved an exaggerated hand at him. “Whatever it is you got going on.”

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  Soren looked at her curiously.

  “You throw her identity all out of whack,” Veolo said after a moment. “She’s afraid to let the bravado down.”

  “Now who does that remind me of?” he said sarcastically.

  “Fuck you,” Veolo said and stood up. “Yeah, I take a lot of lead from her, so what?”

  “Sorry,” Soren said. “Wasn’t trying to upset you.”

  “You didn’t,” Veolo exhaled. “I just have a lot of pent up anxiety.”

  “You’ll figure it out. You’re very resourceful.”

  “Hmm…” she looked down at him over the bridge of her nose.

  Before she could overthink it, Violet’s footsteps approached from the pathway downhill. She looked a little steadier than before.

  Veolo went to her quickly, trying not to look like she was rushing, and pulled her into a hug. “Good to see you out and about.”

  “Yeah,” Violet said quietly. She continued walking up to Soren, who stood as she approached.

  “Hey,” Soren said.

  “Hey,” Violet responded.

  Veolo watched them from below as they stood there quietly for a moment.

  “I wanted…” Violet started. “I wanted to say thank you. For everything you did the other night.”

  “Of course,” Soren answered. “Did you get hurt at all? From the glass or the fall or anything?”

  What fall?

  Violet shook her head. “I wish, we could’ve got there sooner… But I know you did everything you could to get me there as quickly as possible.”

  “Yeah…” Soren said quietly. Then he glanced over at Veolo. “You look confused.”

  “What exactly did you do the other night?”

  “He sensed what happened,” Violet answered. “Then grabbed me and leapt out of Venlin’s third-floor window.”

  Wow.

  Veolo stared up for a moment before realizing her mouth was hanging slightly open. “Alright, time for me to go, I don’t know, run a couple miles. I’ll leave you two to talk.”

  She turned to walk away, then stopped and glanced back at Soren who was still watching her.

  “Fuck you,” Veolo said casually. “Friend.”

  Then she walked away without waiting for a reply.

  Her body was buzzing again. Muscles tight. Skin hot. She needed to move or she was going to scream.

  So she ran.

  Through the outskirts of the town, across dry grass and cracked dirt, until the sweat soaked her spine and her chest burned. It didn’t really help, but it was something to chase. Something to outrun.

  And eventually, without meaning to, her steps took her out toward the ranch. She hopped a fence and ran through the fields where the bram were grazing, a few of them running with her. A couple tried running into her with those large horns but she leapt over them before they could touch her.

  Jumping the fence at the other end of the pasture, she eventually came upon a small, run-down building. It looked like a dwelling unit, but so poorly maintained, she wasn’t sure how someone could stand living there. Then she noticed Tarnik crouched next to it doing something.

  Her pace slowed.

  He looked up as she approached. “Wasn’t expectin’ company.”

  Veolo stopped a few paces away, breathing hard—she watched him, wary for a moment. To his credit, the man had said nothing stupid in two straight days. They had passed a handful of times in town, he had just looked guilty and ashamed when their eyes met.

  “What is this place?” she said finally.

  He stood and wiped dust from his hands, forearm blades moving along with his arms. “Cale’s house,” he said, mouth tight.

  She stared at it—small, crooked, scarred with rot and rust.

  “What did you do with that piece of shit?” she asked with disdain.

  He looked at her, wary, then said, “He’s inside.”

  Veolo’s eyes narrowed. “So what’s your plan now?”

  He gave a humorless shrug and let out a sigh. “Kinda in unfamiliar territory here. Was thinkin’ of just burning it down.”

  “Better than he deserves,” she said.

  They stood there for a moment, the dust blowing faintly across the ranch.

  Veolo tilted her head. “Hold on.”

  She turned and jogged back toward the ship.

  Ten minutes later, she returned accompanied by Amalia, each of them carrying heavy satchel.

  “Hey Tarnik,” Amalia said. She wasn’t her normal cheery to him, but at least casually polite.

  Tarnik blinked as they approached. “Whatcha got there?”

  “Bombs,” Veolo said simply.

  “Bombs?!”

  “A lot of bombs,” Veolo answered. She turned to Amalia as they set their satchels down. “Hey, can you run into town and tell Venlin to announce to everyone not to freak out when this thing goes off?”

  Amalia smirked. “Got it, I’ll keep my comms open.” She hurried away.

  Tarnik stared at her as Veolo got to work setting explosives all around the perimeter of the shack. “You’re really intense, you know that, right?”

  Surprised, Veolo smiled for the first time in days.

  She looked up at him. “Help me set the charges.”

  Several minutes later, they stood a couple hundred meters away from the shack, waiting to hear from Amalia. They stood in silence, watching the wind ripple across the grass, the shack looming like a scar in the distance. Something about Tarnik caught Veolo’s attention.

  “You don’t smell like chewing tobacco anymore.” She said, watching him only out of the corner of her eye.

  Tarnik rubbed at his jaw. “Yeah. Noticed when you clocked me the first night, you looked like you were gonna puke from the spit. Wasn’t the greatest feeling, stung more than the punches in a way. Figured I’d try to ween off it.”

  She squinted at him, arms folding. “You’re weening yourself off for me? You still think there’s a chance in hell I’d sleep with you?”

  He didn’t bristle. He didn’t smile either.

  “Naw, I ain’t holdin’ my breath,” he said quietly. “I done wrong by you. You were right to react the way you did. That don’t mean I can’t try to be better, right?” He wasn’t looking at her. He kept his eyes on the shack, his expression thoughtful.

  “Maybe…,” he continued, “Maybe if I hadn’t been so shitty, Cale wouldn’t have been so shit too. Maybe he wouldn’t’ve…” He trailed off, shoulders sagging.

  Veolo looked him over. He was honest. He had been a piece of work the first time they met, but he was taking everything to heart, trying to be a better person. And people were still allowed to make mistakes as they grew.

  “You taking accountability is a good thing,” she said finally. “Aurania said that this place is a bit stuck in its ways, but nothing is black and white. That you people aren’t monsters. I think Cale was the exception to that.”

  She gazed back over to the shack. “Don’t go putting all of that on your back, Tarnik. Just keep doing better.”

  “I will,” he said. His voice was hoarse.

  They stood there for a beat longer in silence.

  Veolo was beginning to get impatient when a low hum crackled in Veolo’s comms—Amalia’s voice came through a second later.

  “Okay, Venlin’s announcing now.”

  A moment later, Venlin’s voice came through as he addressed the town from his 3rd story balcony.

  “Uh. Attention folks. I’ve been informed there’s nothing to be worried about, but I’m not entirely sure what’s going on. Just… stay inside, I guess.”

  Veolo chuckled. “That’s about as good as we were gonna get.”

  Then she clicked the detonator.

  The shack exploded with a thunderous roar, a blue and yellow fireball blooming into the sky. The shockwave hit them like a slap, dust kicking up all around them. Veolo grinned as the sound rolled across the plains.

  Tarnik stared, jaw slightly slack. “Holy shit.”

  They both stood there a while, just breathing in the silence that followed. The smoke drifted high, curling into the pale sky like the ghost of something that never should’ve existed.

  Eventually, Tarnik exhaled and said, “Thank you, by the way. Don’t think I ever said it.”

  Veolo turned her head slightly. “For what?”

  “For jumpin’ between me and her gun,” he said, still watching the ashes. “Can’t say I would’ve done the same in your shoes. Truth be told, she didn’t do nothin’ I don’t feel like I didn’t deserve.”

  Veolo rolled her jaw, then clicked her tongue. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

  Silence settled again, heavier now—but not hostile. Then Veolo shifted, rubbing the back of her neck and eyeing her sweat-streaked arms.

  “You got a decent shower?”

  Tarnik looked over at her, brow lifting in surprise.

  She shrugged. “I haven’t had a good one since we got here, and I’m sick of being covered in sweat and red dirt.”

  He blinked, then nodded. “Yeah, I got a setup with decent pressure. Usually for livestock and such, not sayin’—not tryin’ to compare, just… y’know, that’s what it was built for.”

  Veolo smirked faintly. “Show me.”

  Tarnik gave a small grunt and led her around the side of the property, past a rusted grain silo and a row of mechanical feed racks. They rounded the corner, and Veolo paused.

  She had expected a sad little hose setup, maybe a cracked trough and a makeshift curtain. Instead, she found a simple but well-kept wash station. A proper water tank, a rigged solar heater, even a bench made from polished wood scraps. The pipes weren’t shiny, but they weren’t falling apart either. The whole place smelled faintly of lavender and sun-bleached dust.

  Veolo raised an eyebrow. “Huh. This is… actually pretty decent.”

  Tarnik scratched the back of his head. “Gotta maintain your equipment if you want the ranch to run. Water line’s been patched a few times, but she holds steady. I’ll show you how to work it.”

  He moved to a set of levers, turned one, and a heavy stream of water came jetting out from the mounted pipe above the platform. He tested the temp, adjusted another valve, then stepped back.

  “There. Should be warm. I’ll give you some privacy.”

  Tarnik turned to leave, but barely made it two steps before Veolo blasted him in the back with water.

  He stumbled forward, cursing. “What the hell?!”

  “I still don’t know how to use it,” Veolo said, lowering the sprayer casually. “I need a demonstration.”

  He turned around and looked at her, clearly confused. “You—what?”

  Veolo’s eyes locked on his. “You really want to be a better man?” She borderline yelled at him.

  He hesitated, then nodded cautiously. “Yeah.”

  “Good.” She stepped closer, voice low and steady. “The next time a lacravida comes to town, you need to know how to properly interact with her.”

  Tarnik tensed like he expected a slap. “Okay…”

  “First,” Veolo said, tilting her head. “We’re very open about our bodies. You’ve seen that. We don’t hide. And we take care of ourselves. This wash station’s nice—but I expected it to be as dirty as you are.”

  He frowned a little, more confused than offended.

  “Strip,” she said.

  His brow raised. “You’re serious?”

  In answer, Veolo wrapped her arms around her torso and grabbed her tight upper robe, lifting it over her head. Her chest sprang free, and he was powerless to look away. She untied her lower robes a moment later, and let them fall to the ground. Her skin was slick with water and sweat, the sun catching on every curve of her form like she was carved from copper and iron.

  Tarnik stared, frozen in place.

  “Your turn,” she said.

  Slowly—uncertainly—he began to undress. She didn’t mock him, didn’t smirk. Just watched with arms crossed until he stood bare in the spray beside her. He looked rough around the edges, sure—scars, tan lines, tension in every limb—but he was trying.

  She stepped forward and without warning grabbed a bar of soap, spun him around, and began scrubbing his back—hard.

  “Second,” she said, working the lather into his shoulders, “We love to fight. We don’t play coy, and we sure as hell don’t shy away from friction.”

  She tapped his cheek roughly with the bar of soap—the same cheek she’d smashed into a table their first week in town. “I think you’ve got that part memorized.”

  “Y-yeah,” Tarnik muttered, flinching a little, though not away from her.

  They bathed in silence after that—awkward, oddly intimate silence. Veolo moved with practiced ease, washing him like she’d do for a sparring partner covered in blood after a match. Efficient, firm, without pretense. He didn’t dare look directly at her, and she didn’t offer him any false softness. But something about the moment was grounding. Cleansing. Not just physically.

  When they finished, she grabbed a dry cloth and threw it over his shoulders, then pushed him down onto the bench with a firm hand. He sat, dripping and unsure, staring up at her as she stood in front of him—naked, tall, defiant.

  “Third,” Veolo said, voice low now, “Is respect.”

  Adding a hint of venom to her tone, she said, “There is no graver sin to us than violation of bodily autonomy. Is that understood?”

  Tarnik nodded, throat tight. “Understood.”

  “Good.” Her eyes narrowed. “So the next time you meet a lacravida—whether or not you plan to sleep with her—you’re going to what?”

  His voice was thin. “T-treat her with respect.”

  Veolo nodded once, satisfied.

  “And if she gives you the time of day to even entertain the faintest possibility of sleeping with you,” she continued, voice darkening just slightly, “what are you going to do?”

  He swallowed hard. “Ask first?”

  Her smile was slow and unsettling. “Good boy.” She glanced between his legs long enough for him to notice, then returned her eyes to his face.

  Bending over, she placed both hands on his upper thighs. Her face was less than an inch from his. Tarnik froze at her touch, and she felt the tension swell in him.

  “So…” Veolo said, her voice just a whisper now. “Are you going to ask me?”

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