“Found a buyer,” Jace announces, arms crossed over his chest as he leans back in his chair, the old wood creaking under his weight. His dark, slightly unkempt hair falls across his forehead, and his eyes flicker with that usual mix of sly confidence and hidden trouble.

  We’re alone in our cramped apartment, carved into the lower levels of Isenhold’s mountain. The walls are a patchwork of metal panels and insulation, barely keeping out the cold, with a faint scent of rust and machine oil lingering in the air. Shiro’s working in the deep mines today, leaving me alone with Jace.

  “A buyer?” I echo, skepticism threading my voice. “You didn’t even know what it was two days ago. Now you’ve got someone willing to pay for it?”

  He shrugs casually. “I’ve got connections, Ander. People who pay big for rare tech—especially unique stuff like this.”

  I glance at the chip on the table between us, then back to him. “Who’s the buyer? And why drag me into this?” This isn’t his usual game. Jace usually works alone for these kinds of things.

  He leans forward, the grin fading from his face. “I need someone I can trust to watch my back. This buyer isn’t local—off-worlder, big credits. But that means bigger risks. They might decide to take the tech and leave me dead in an alley.”

  I frown, recalling the times Jace took me under his wing, teaching me and Shiro how to survive down in Isenhold’s lower levels. Despite our age difference, we’ve always looked out for each other. He was like the older brother I never had, and I knew he felt responsible for me after my parents disappeared, even though he was in the same exact boat.

  I take a deep breath, weighing his words. “And you really think I’m the best pick for that? I’m just a kid, Jace. Not exactly intimidating.”

  He smirks, tapping his fingers on the table. “That’s precisely why I want you. They’ll underestimate you. Nobody expects the kid to cause trouble until it’s too late. Besides, you’re sharper than most people I know.”

  I study him for a long moment, then the chip—a thin, rectangular aug with polished edges traced by delicate violet circuitry forming angular lines. The RedLine Biotech logo is subtly etched into the metal. Memories of sleepless nights, Shiro’s cough echoing in the cramped apartment, and the endless grind in the mines all fuel the growing desire for change. This chip could change everything—could get us killed too.

  I meet Jace’s gaze, searching for any hint of doubt. But his eyes are steady, filled with a determination that mirrors my own buried hopes. The thought of leaving Isenhold, of escaping the endless cold and the mine’s suffocating darkness, tugs at something deep within me.

  “What about Shiro? He won’t like this.”

  “Shiro doesn’t have to know,” he replies smoothly. “Come on, Ander. We’ve all fantasized about getting out of this frozen wasteland. Don’t you think it’s worth the risk for a chance at life? Not just survival?”

  I look at the chip again, and sigh. “Fine. I’m in, but we’re doing this my way—no dumb risks.”

  His grin returns, a genuine warmth reaching his eyes. “Deal.”

  Jace moves to his worn backpack in the corner, rummaging for a moment before pulling out a small metallic case. With a flick, he opens it to reveal a Veridian LX-7 hand cannon. The weapon’s matte-black surface absorbs the light, giving it an almost shadowy presence. Sharp lines cut across the frame, and the name is engraved along the barrel.

  My eyes widen at the sight. “Where the hell did you get that?”

  “Lifted it off a bounty hunter passing through,” he says nonchalantly. “Guy didn’t even notice until he was back on his ship.”

  A surge of anxiety grips me, like ice in my chest. “Jace, this is serious. High-grade weapons, stolen tech—you’re playing with fire.”

  And I don’t want to get burned.

  He meets my gaze, his expression earnest for once. “I know. That’s why I need you with me. We look out for each other.” He closes the case and slides it toward me. “Ever fired a gun before, Ander?”

  I shake my head, swallowing hard. “No.”

  His smile fades, replaced by a steely determination. “Well, you’re my backup if things go south.” He taps the case. “Don’t worry. With any luck, you won’t have to pull the trigger.”

  I glance at the gun, then back at Jace. The weight of this decision is sinking in, and a chill runs down my spine. I think about Shiro, about the small semblance of a life we’ve managed to carve out in this frozen wasteland. The risks are overwhelming, but the thought of doing nothing, of continuing to struggle endlessly with no hope for escape, feels worse.

  “Alright,” I say, keeping my voice steady, even if my hands aren’t. “But we stay tight. No freelancing. We do this right, get out clean.”

  Jace nods, a flicker of respect crossing his face. “That’s the plan, little brother. Trust me, we got this.”

  I reach out and close the metallic case, my fingers brushing the cold surface of the Veridian LX-7. There’s no turning back now.

  Jace spends the next hour walking me through the plan. The buyer is an off-worlder named Harlan—a high roller with Syndicate ties. He arrived in Isenhold under the guise of a merchant, but Jace’s contacts say he’s looking for something specific, something like the Veil chip.

  “We meet him at a loading dock on the outskirts of Isenhold,” Jace says, his tone serious. “It’s private—nobody to interfere if things go south.”

  I nod, trying to absorb every detail. The loading dock is isolated, away from prying eyes. It’s risky, but at least we won’t have to worry about bystanders or unwanted attention.

  “What if he brings muscle?” I ask.

  Jace smirks. “That’s why you’re here. If things look off, we bail. No questions, no second-guessing. We walk away and figure out another way. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  He claps me on the shoulder. “Good. We head out tomorrow night. Get some rest, Ander. You’ll need it.”

  I watch as he heads to his cot, the confidence in his stride unwavering. I wish I could share it, but the knot of unease in my stomach only tightens. I lie back on my own cot, staring up at the patched ceiling, the faint hum of the heater the only sound in the room.

  I think of Shiro, of his smile, of the dreams we’ve whispered to each other on cold nights—dreams of warmth, of freedom, of something more than this life in the mines. I close my eyes, hoping that, somehow, this deal will be the first step toward making those dreams a reality.

  But deep down, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re about to step into something far bigger than either of us can handle.

  ***

  The lower levels of Isenhold are a labyrinth of shadow and ice. Massive pipes snake through narrow streets, leaking steam that mixes with exhaust from generators, casting a hazy, blue-tinged fog. Rusted catwalks crisscross overhead, dripping condensation onto the cracked, frost-coated ground below. Neon lights flicker weakly from shoddy stalls and ramshackle markets, their pale glows barely cutting through the freezing mist. People here live in the shadows of the city above, bundled in heavy coats and patched gear. Figures lurk in the corners, faces hidden under hoods, eyes wary.

  Jace and I wait by a loading dock, the shadows providing enough cover to keep us out of sight. He leans casually against the icy wall, arms crossed, but I can see the alertness in him. From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of what looks like a figure watching us from a rooftop, but when I look again, they’re gone.

  Unease settles in my gut. I try to steady my breathing, fingers brushing the cold metal of the Veridian LX-7 tucked under my coat. The weight of it feels unnatural, heavy against my side.

  “You sure about this?” I ask quietly.

  Jace glances at me, a hint of concern in his eyes. “We need this, Ander.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” I sigh. “I’m just not used to this, is all.”

  He chuckles. “You’ll get the hang of it. A little adrenaline keeps you sharp.”

  Despite his reassurance, my palms are clammy inside my gloves. Every instinct tells me to turn back, but the thought of staying trapped here is worse.

  After a few more minutes of waiting, the buyer arrives, flanked by three imposing figures cloaked in dark armor. They emerge from the shadows, their steps echoing softly against metal grates. The leader, Harlan, is a hulking man with a scarred face, his gaze cold and assessing, like a predator sizing up prey.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  His gaze sweeps over us with a mix of amusement and disdain, sharp eyes glinting like dull metal. “Really?” he rumbles, his voice deep, resonating like grinding steel. His eyes settle on me, noting the subtle bulge under my coat. He chuckles. “Kid’s packing heat. That’s cute.”

  I suppress a wince, keeping my face neutral. He can tell?

  Jace steps forward, his confidence unshaken. “You’re here. So let’s get started, shall we?”

  The man smirks, amused. “Straight to business, I like it. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Without missing a beat, Jace produces the VX-9 Veil from his coat, the metallic glint of the chip catching what little light there is. He holds it up deliberately, letting the buyer get a good look.

  Harlan’s eyes narrow as he examines it from a distance. “Veil series,” he mutters. “Not standard issue.”

  He thinks for a moment, but is interrupted as Jace suddenly snaps the case shut. “So, what’s your offer?”

  The buyer frowns thoughtfully, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Hard to say without proper analysis. Could be worth a fortune, could be a worthless prototype. I’ll need to have it examined.”

  Examined? This wasn’t part of the plan. I glance at Jace, hoping he’ll see reason.

  He shakes his head firmly. “Not happening. I’m not handing it over without a deal.”

  Harlan’s smile tightens. “Then we have a problem.”

  An uneasy silence settles between us. I can hear the distant clatter of machinery, but it does nothing to fill the void. My grip on the Veridian tightens instinctively.

  Finally, the man sighs, relenting. “Fine. How about you come with me to my tech expert? You keep the chip until we agree on a price.”

  Jace hesitates, his eyes flicking to me. I give a subtle nod. We don’t have many options.

  “Deal,” he decides. “Lead the way.”

  ***

  The analyst leans in, narrowing his eyes as he examines the chip closely. “It’s a Veil combat chip alright. RedLine Biotech make.” He pauses. “But this model—VX-9—I don’t know it, and I know every commercial and military model they produce by heart. No serial numbers, no trackers. Could be a prototype or custom job. That increases its value significantly.” He glances over at Harlan. “I’d estimate it at around three hundred thousand credits.”

  My breath catches. Three hundred thousand. The number seems unreal, like something from a dream.

  Harlan nods slowly, turning to Jace. “I’ll offer two hundred thousand.”

  He doesn’t hesitate. “Agreed.”

  “Excellent,” Harlan replies, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll need a few days to pull the funds together. I’ll contact you through your fixer when I’m ready.”

  Jace extends his hand, and they shake firmly. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

  As we step back into the frigid streets, the fold air fills my lungs, sharp and invigorating. The reality of what just happened begins to sink in.

  “You think he’ll come through?” I ask, pulling my coat tighter around me. “That all went by really quickly.”

  “He’ll come through,” Jace assures, but there’s a subtle tension in his voice.

  “Two hundred thousand is a lot,” I muse, my mind racing with possibilities.

  “Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “we play our cards right, we’ll see more than that. You did good back there. Kept your cool.”

  I offer a faint smile. “Didn’t have much of a choice. The guy knew I had the gun the second he showed up. Didn’t even care.”

  Jace chuckles softly. “He knew we were small-time. But that’s why it worked. They didn’t see us as a threat. That’s an advantage.”

  We walk in silence for a while, the city’s constant noise a distant hum. Shadows stretch and shift around us, figures moving like ghosts through the mist. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched. Every so often, I catch a flicker of movement at the edge of my vision, but when I turn, there’s nothing.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a man dressed in black, blending seamlessly with the crowd. But… there’s something off about him—a purposeful stride that doesn’t match the aimless wanderings of the others around us.

  “Jace,” I whisper, nodding subtly toward the man. “I think we’re being followed.”

  He glances over casually, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Stay cool,” he murmurs. “Could be nothing.”

  We pick up our pace, the crowd pressing in around us. My heart pounds in my chest, each footfall echoing louder than the last. The sound of footsteps behind us quickens. I turn and spot the same man from before. And then, before I can react, he suddenly lunges at me, his movements a blur. His hand slips into my coat with practiced ease, and before I know it, he’s holding the Veridian LX-7. There was no indication it was there—nothing to give it away—but he pulls it out like it’s his own.

  “Careful, kid,” he says, voice low and steady. He raises the handgun, silencer glinting under the dim lights. Before I can even think, he fires. Twice.

  The muffled shots barely register before I hear the thud of bodies hitting the ground behind us. I turn to see two figures collapsed, shadows pooling beneath them—the buyer’s men. Same armor, same stature.

  Jace’s eyes go wide. “What the hell?”

  The man in black slips the gun into his own coat, his expression unreadable. Panic surges through me, adrenaline coursing like ice in my veins. My heart’s beating out of my chest. What’s going on?

  “Who are you?” Jace demands, his usual bravado faltering.

  The man ignores the question, turning on his heel and walking away with a measured pace. Something about him compels us to follow, as if we’re caught in his gravity.

  “They were following you,” he finally says, his voice cutting through the muffled sounds of the city. “Your buyer’s men.”

  “What did they want?” I ask, quickening my steps to keep up. My mind races, trying to piece together what’s happening.

  He glances at me with sharp hazel eyes, a hint of disdain in his gaze. “You two really don’t get it, do you? Those men were going to take your aug. Probably take you out too.”

  Jace scoffs, but there’s a tremor in his voice. “We had a deal.”

  The man stops abruptly in a secluded alley, then turns to face us. “Deals mean nothing when there’s more at stake.”

  He pulls the gun back out from his coat with a fluid motion, pointing it directly at Jace’s head. My stomach drops. “And there is more at stake. Hand over the chip,” he commands, his tone devoid of emotion.

  “Wait,” I interject, stepping forward. “Just take it easy—”

  “Don’t move,” he snaps, his gaze never leaving Jace.

  I obey, fear rooting me to the spot as I stare into his eyes, hoping for some sign of hesitation or weakness. But there’s nothing—just a cold, unblinking stare. Then I notice it, a faint flicker of blue light. My heart skips. They’re not eyes—they’re optics.

  Jace’s eyes dart between me and the man. “How did you find us? How do you even know about it?”

  The man is silent for a second, as if considering if it’s worth indulging us. “Red-haired girl stole it a week ago from some political type,” he finally says. “Problem was, the tech wasn’t on her when she was taken. And that chip you’ve got is dangerous. Can’t have Velkarian street rats like you messing around with it.”

  A chill that’s not from the cold seeps into my bones. “Who are you?” I whisper.

  He ignores me—it’s like I’m not even here anymore.

  Jace’s face tightens. “You still haven’t told me how you found us.”

  “Easy,” he says with a small shrug. “That gun I took from your friend here? It’s mine. Tracker’s in it. I’ve let a few of those get ‘stolen’ over the last week. Figured it’d lead me to whoever had the aug.”

  And he was right. I can see the realization creeping into Jace’s eyes. It was hopeless from the start.

  The man adjusts the grip on his gun. “Now, I won’t ask again.”

  Jace hesitates, eyes flicking to me briefly. Then, his mind suddenly made up, he grabs the chip and slips it into his mouth, quickly swallowing it. The aug is small—no larger than a pill—but I can see the strain as he forces it down. My stomach turns as I watch.

  “What the hell, Jace?” I manage, voice barely above a whisper.

  The man’s face twists in a mix of disbelief and frustration. He seems to weigh his options, eyes flicking between us. For a moment, I think I see a shadow of regret in his gaze, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. “Really?” he mutters.

  Sweat beads on my forehead, and I feel my legs trembling. “Please, don’t,” I plead, desperation clawing at my voice. “We can work something out.”

  He glances at me, his expression softening almost imperceptibly. “Might want to look away, kid.”

  “Don’t—” I start, but he raises the gun back to Jace’s head.

  “No!” I shout, reaching out, but it’s too late. A silenced shot rings out, and Jace collapses, his body crumpling onto the icy ground.

  Time seems to slow. The world narrows to the sight of Jace lying motionless, a dark stain spreading beneath him. A scream builds in my chest, but no sound comes out.

  I fall to my knees, my hands hovering uselessly over the snow. “Jace,” I whisper, my voice breaking. This can’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.

  Hot tears blur my vision as a whirlwind of emotions crashes over me—grief, guilt, rage. I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms until they hurt, anything to wake from this nightmare.

  The man kneels next to me beside Jace’s body, pulling a combat knife from his belt. My legs feel like lead, rooted to the spot as I watch him work with cold efficiency, cutting into my friend’s chest. The metallic scent of blood fills the air, and bile rises in my throat.

  “Stop!” I say, but my voice is hoarse, swallowed by the emptiness around us. I want to lunge at him, to make him pay, but I can’t move. Fear paralyzes me, wrapping around me like ice. And he knows it, so he pays me no mind.

  His optics glint faintly as he works, locked onto a point within Jace’s body. He knows exactly where that chip is. And all I can do is stare, trapped in the nightmare, too shocked to breathe.

  After a few moments, he finds it. The VX-9 Veil gleams faintly, slick with blood. With two fingers, he pulls it free and holds it up to the light. Without a word, he slips it into a small plastic bag, seals it, then pockets it.

  I’m still kneeling there, too numb to react.

  Then, from the shadows, a woman suddenly steps into view—short black hair framing cold green optics. She carries the same detached aura as the man as she glances at the scene—the blood, Jace’s lifeless body, and me—and doesn’t flinch.

  “Do you have it?” she asks, her voice devoid of emotion.

  The man in black stands, wiping his hands on his coat. “It’s done.”

  They exchange a brief look, a silent understanding passing between them. Without another word, they turn and walk away, their coats trailing behind them. They don’t acknowledge me, sitting there in shock, my knees soaked in snow and blood, staring at the lifeless body of my friend.

  Moments after they leave, I manage to get to my feet and stumble over to Jace. I collapse beside him, my knees hitting the hard ice painfully. “Hey,” I whisper, my voice breaking. I grasp his hand, already growing cold. The reality crashes over me like a tidal wave—he’s gone.

  A sob wracks my body, the weight of grief and guilt crushing me. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur, clutching his hand tighter. The icy wind whips around us, but I feel nothing. Numbness spreads through me, dulling the edges of the nightmare.

  Time passes—minutes, hours—I can’t tell. Eventually, the cold forces me to move. I gently lay Jace’s hand across his chest, wiping the tears from my face with a shaky hand.

  Staggering to my feet, I take one last look at my friend before turning away. The city’s neon lights blur as I step back into the streets, a silent vow echoing in my mind.