By the time they got back to Raine’s building, the sun had dipped below the ridge, and the last of the daylight was draining from the sky. The air had gone heavy again, like the weather couldn’t decide whether it wanted to storm or settle.

  They’d spent all day combing the forest—Inelius tracking on foot while Raine trailed along in his truck. He’d checked every plausible offshoot, soft soil, cracked branch, or brush pile where someone might’ve pushed through in a hurry. Every lead turned cold. Tension had grown thick in Tamiyo’s gut by the time Inelius approached the passenger window and said, “If he’s out here, he’s gone deeper than we can reach tonight.”

  She resigned with a small nod, and the three of them returned to Owangara to regroup.

  As Tamiyo climbed out of the truck in front of Raine’s building, her boots touched pavement and she immediately heard the crash of glass shattering somewhere nearby.

  Her whole body snapped taut.

  Her breath hitched, shoulders curled. One foot slid instinctively behind the other, bracing for someone to hit her. Her gaze swept the dark corners of the street, scanning for movement. She looked for any shape that might step out from the shadows with an order, or a hand, or a reason to drag her back.

  Something touched her shoulder and she jumped.

  When nothing followed, she forced her eyes to obey—finding metal arms and purple hair.

  “Hey,” Raine said gently. “It’s alright. Just a bottle. You’re safe.”

  Tamiyo blinked. Then again, slower this time. The moment passed, but something about it remained, lodging deep down between her shoulders.

  Raine gestured for Inelius to lead the way and then carefully ushered Tamiyo along behind. As they moved up the steps, Tamiyo’s eyes lingered on the alleyway.

  “Home again,” Raine said with a tired smile as they walked through her door. The room still smelled faintly of the breakfast they’d shared.

  “I’ve got wine or tea,” Raine offered.

  Tamiyo hesitated in the doorway. “You don’t have to—”

  “I want to,” Raine said simply. She gestured toward the bathroom, “Come on. Go clean up.”

  Tamiyo nodded and entered, trying to smile but not quite managing it.

  The shower’s steam rose quickly as she adjusted the water, and she stood beneath it longer than necessary, letting the heat trace over her skin and scalp. She wasn’t sure if her nervous system needed comfort the way organic ones did, but the warmth definitely helped quiet her thoughts.

  She stepped back into the hallway dressed once more in borrowed clothes and a towel draped over her shoulders. She heard voices from the living room.

  Raine laughed. “I swear, I could draw you with that pout. You make it look practiced.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Inelius replied dryly.

  “It was a threat.”

  Tamiyo paused just out of view, her footsteps soft. She could hear the smile in Raine’s voice and the grin behind Inelius’s reply. They weren’t saying anything intimate, but there was an ease to it. A quiet rapport that danced along the edge of something warmer. Something more familiar than friendship.

  She stepped into the room.

  Inelius was perched on the corner of the couch, armor stored in the bag by his feet, his jacket slung over one arm. Raine leaned against the kitchen counter with a cup of tea, her body angled toward him. They both looked up as Tamiyo entered.

  “You clean up nicely,” Raine said with a wink, holding out a second mug.

  “Thanks,” Tamiyo accepted with a nod, the ceramic warm against her fingers. “I needed that.”

  Inelius stood. “I should check in with the watch before it gets too late. But I’ll be back early tomorrow.”

  “Bright and early?” Raine teased.

  “Like a sunrise you can’t stop.” He gave Tamiyo a small smile as he grabbed his gear.

  The door closed gently behind him, and the apartment grew still again.

  Tamiyo moved to the couch and sank into it, pulling her legs up to her chest. She sipped her tea slowly, cradling the mug in her hands.

  Raine crossed to the kitchen, pulled a small plate of fruit from the counter, and set it on the coffee table. “Eat something. No pressure—just good for the nerves.”

  Tamiyo nodded, picking up a slice of fruit. It tasted simple. Clean.

  “I’m going to rinse off real quick,” Raine said, already stepping toward the hallway. “Be right out.”

  Tamiyo managed a weak smile in response.

  She sat alone in the stillness, letting the quiet settle like dust. The apartment felt warm—warmer than the jungle, somehow. Maybe it was the soft light. Maybe it was the way Raine kept offering comfort at just the right moments. Or how Inelius had never pried at how nervous Tamiyo was around him. They were both strange to her. Not in behavior, but in consistency.

  She wasn’t used to people staying kind.

  She looked down at the slice of fruit in her hand and took another bite, slower this time, realizing she hadn’t really tasted it the first time.

  The sound of running water stopped, and a few moments later, Raine padded back into the living room, her permanently affixed metal boots clicking against the floor. She emerged in fresh clothes, her purple hair hanging loose and damp at the ends. She’d changed into a fitted tank top and loose lounge pants, comfortable but clean. She crossed to the couch, lowered herself onto the opposite cushion, and tucked one leg under the other.

  She gave Tamiyo a small, thoughtful smile. “You seem like someone who doesn’t get a lot of quiet nights.”

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  Tamiyo looked down at the mug in her hands. “No. For a little while… I did. I lived with someone kind. His name was Walter.”

  Raine just stayed quiet, letting her talk.

  “He bought me—not like that,” Tamiyo added quickly. “He was old. Needed help getting around. And he was… he was good to me. Talked to me like I was a person. Let me choose things. Let me exist.”

  She paused, blinking at the memory. “He died after a few months. Just didn’t wake up one morning. I found him just the way I’d tucked him in the night before.”

  Raine’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry.”

  Tamiyo nodded faintly. “They auctioned off everything after. House, furniture, me. And the next place I ended up… it wasn’t like Walter’s.”

  A long silence stretched between them.

  Raine stood quietly, crossed the room, and returned with a brush in her hand. She sat down beside Tamiyo, the brush resting in her lap.

  “I don’t remember much of my first owner,” she said after a moment. “But I do remember the Conservatory. Bright lights. Clean floors. The constant monitoring.” She rolled her eyes a little and scoffed. “Their constant need for, efficiency.”

  Tamiyo looked over at her, surprised. “You were there too?”

  Raine nodded, her gaze drifting across the room. “I wasn’t auctioned off like you were, I was always utilized for my intended purpose,” she curled her fingers into air quotes. “But at the end of the day, I was still property. Still didn’t have freedom.”

  Tamiyo studied her as she spoke, recalibrating the already burgeoning respect she held for the woman.

  “But one day I guess I started asking too many questions,” Raine continued. “About policy, about why certain protocols existed. Why some of us got field placements and others were just… kept.” She laughed once, dryly. “Turns out you’re not supposed to think too hard about how the machine works when you’re part of it. They flagged me as ‘defective’ and sent me back to the manufacturer.”

  There was something comforting in Raine sharing the story with her. She wasn’t trying to fix anything, just sharing similar experiences.

  “You got lucky,” Tamiyo murmured.

  Raine met her eyes. “You didn’t.”

  Tamiyo looked away. “I feel like all I can do is keep running.”

  “That makes sense,” Raine said gently. “And I’m not telling you to stop. Not all at once. But maybe you can rest, for tonight.” She reached for the brush again. “May I?”

  Tamiyo hesitated, then gave a small nod and turned. Raine moved behind her and delicately began. They sat like that for a while, just the sound of bristles pulling gently through hair, the scents of citrus soap and steam still faint in the air.

  “You know,” Raine said softly, “you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

  “For what?”

  “For surviving. And still having the guts to care about things.”

  Tamiyo closed her eyes. “I don’t know if I care. Not really. My protocols are screaming inside to help him out.”

  “And what about yourself?”

  “I…” Tamiyo’s breath caught for a second. “I just don’t want to disappear.”

  “You won’t,” Raine said. “Not here.”

  After a few moments, a question nagged at Tamiyo but she hesitated to ask. Then she pushed it out. “Can I ask… how you got out?”

  Raine stilled briefly, then resumed brushing. “After they flagged me as defective, they shipped me back to the manufacturer’s facility on Kestrin. It didn’t really feel like the Conservatory. Less control, more neglect. Most of the CIPHERs there were either decommissioned or shelved until they could be wiped and reissued.”

  Tamiyo opened her eyes slowly.

  “I was lucky. One of the intake techs was… softhearted. Or maybe just tired. He slipped up and left a security panel logged in one night. I walked right out through a service bay and kept walking until I hit a freight yard. Hid out in a hauler, didn’t even know where it was headed. Spent the next two years bouncing around, working small contracts in Liberty Union space. Not all of them legal.” She chuckled dryly. “Guess we’ve both been improvising.”

  Tamiyo gave a faint smile. “Yeah.”

  Then Raine looked over Tamiyo’s shoulder casually. “What about you? How did you escape?”

  Tamiyo hesitated. Her fingers tightened a little around the mug.

  “The ship I’m flying, I stole it in broad daylight,” Tamiyo said quietly. “Didn’t even know how to fly it at the time.”

  Raine blinked in surprise. “Seriously? Damn, nice.”

  Tamiyo gave a tiny nod. “Ripped the fuel line clean out of the port. It was still hanging from the hull when I broke atmo. I thought they’d shoot me down but they didn’t. I kept hopping systems. Ports, slingshots, debris fields… anything to stay ahead. Three weeks straight—I’ve barely slept.”

  Raine’s brow lifted. “That recent?”

  Tamiyo nodded. “Yep. Kept moving system to system until I… found my unconscious passenger and ended up here. I was still running when I found him… I didn’t think he was real.” She didn’t elaborate, and Raine didn’t ask.

  They didn’t speak for a while.

  As Raine was finishing up brushing Tamiyo’s hair, she said, “I think Walter would be proud.”

  Tamiyo swallowed. “I hope so.” She laughed a little bit, more a way of releasing stress than anything else. “There was a moment after Walter died when I realized how fast things change. That the good can vanish before you even recognize what it was.”

  “I know what you mean,” Raine murmured. She set the brush down on the coffee table and sat next to Tamiyo. “Most people wait too long to say the things they should. Or assume they’ll get another chance.”

  Tamiyo gave a small nod, “Then why haven’t you said something to Inelius?”

  Raine blinked, caught off guard. “What makes you think I—”

  “Oh please Raine, you might be able to fool others by saying you’re programmed to be friendly or something but we both know we’re more advanced than that.”

  Raine gave a quiet laugh, but it sounded a little sad. “Inelius is… he’s my friend. One of the only true friends I have. I don’t want to ruin something good just by wanting more.”

  Tamiyo was quiet for a moment, then said, “I would give anything to have five more minutes with Walter. Just to tell him how much it meant that he saw me as a person and not a thing.” She looked Raine directly in her eyes. “Do you think Inelius sees you?”

  Raine looked back wide-eyed. “I think he does. And I… don’t know what to do with that.”

  Tamiyo felt a bit stronger now, more confident. She picked up the hair brush. “Raine, I’ve been here a couple days and the weather feels like your planet is falling apart. Freak rain, random hail…”

  She paused, tilting her head as she gave Raine a hard look. “There’s lightning shooting through the sky in the middle of the day and it doesn’t even come close to the current I see running between you two.”

  Soren was dreaming again. It was a strange dream, it was like he was looking into a void, but one that was inside him. There was no color—not even darkness. The only thing he could perceive was a ball of golden green and silver light. From where he watched, it was the size of a basketball, but it was dim, like viewing the sun through welding goggles. He tried to touch it, but it felt wild and uncontained, like a star bursting inside of an atom—a chaotic force that he couldn’t even begin to think how to understand.

  And yet somehow it felt familiar.

  Something new entered his perception, maybe a vision or a memory, but it didn't really feel like his own. He saw the alien from the campsite, but it didn't look alien. No, not it—he didn't look alien, even though his features were the same. He was a person. The words he said could be understood.

  Soren realized he was seeing a memory—one that belonged to the woman with the axe. She was friends with the alien, his name was Klix. She was friends with everyone in the village—she was loved, respected, revered even. But part of her still felt isolated, even amongst her people.

  Klix had been one of the few she had gotten closer with. It didn't feel like they were in love, it felt more casual than that. But they had been intimate on more than one occasion—of that, he was certain.

  Somewhere, outside this dreamscape of memory, she was crying. Dread was coiling inside her as she prepared to retrieve the bodies. She was a cauldron of pain, love, and fury. Her people looked to her for strength and she could barely hold herself together—but she was falling apart and it made her feel like a failure.

  Intimacy was tough for her.

  And now, because of Soren, she felt even more alone.