A heartbeat.
Traz glances back at me across the battlefield.
Our eyes lock.
The world disappears.
Just him.
Just me.
Just survival.
"Stay down!" he roars.
I nod, mouth too dry to speak.
He turns back to the fight.
And the last thing I see before the smoke swallows him again is him standing tall.
Unbreakable.
Unstoppable.
Ours.
But then Traz’s blaster clicks dry.
Silpha’s pinned behind a loading crate, bleeding bad from a shot to her leg.
Petru’s men keep coming.
More shadows.
More shouting.
More gunfire.
We’re outgunned.
Outnumbered.
Trapped.
And the exit—the freighter—the only way off this godsdamn rock.
It’s still half a battlefield away.
I clutch the kids tighter, tears burning my eyes.
Traz meets my gaze again, and in his eyes, I see it.
The moment he realizes we aren’t making it out together.
Not all of us.
Not alive.
