Page 35 of The Mercenary's Hidden Heir
Maybe this time, something worth chasing.
Maybe this time, something that’ll bury her memory for good.
The comm flickers to life with a single pulse of static.
I sit up slow, the battered cot creaking under my weight. The room’s dark, lit only by the weak green glow of the cracked comm unit hanging crooked on the wall.
One message.
No sender.
No signature.
Just coordinates.
And a payout number big enough to make most mercs lose their damn minds.
I scrub a hand over my jaw, staring at it.
Glimner.
Of course it’s Glimner.
Of course the universe would twist the knife just a little deeper.
I lean back, weighing it.
Every instinct in me growls low, warning.
Too easy.
Too fast.
Jobs like this don’t fall into your lap unless someone’s trying to bait a trap.
But credits like that… that buys a lot of things.
Freedom. Silence. Distance from the ghosts clawing up my spine.
I could disappear somewhere. Forget everything.
Forget her.
Right.
Like that’s working so well already.
I set my jaw, clenching until the bone aches.
"I won’t even go near Petru," I mutter under my breath.
I say it out loud like it’ll make it true.
I’ll land, grab the cargo, get out.
No complications.
No detours.
