The syndicate boss's grip clamped down like iron, wheezing hot against Tessana’s temple. The cold steel of the automatic pressed a harsh indent into her skin, a searing threat. Rain streamed down his face, washing grime into the harsh lines of his jaw. The click of the hammer pulling back echoed over the downpour, vibrating through her skull.
“The prodigy’s mother dies first,” the boss snarled, locking onto the distant figure of Ondrio, who was already sprinting toward them across the pier.
From the deep shadows cast by a towering stack of empty containers, a figure launched forward. Nemiya, teeth bared with ferocious focus, collided sideways with the boss in a low, frantic tackle that threw him off balance. The gun bucked, a deafening crack splitting the air.
Tessana felt a hot, wet spray across her face, not her own blood, but Nemiya’s. Her friend gasped, a sharp, choked sound, and then crumpled to the greasy steel deck, a blossoming crimson stain blooming across her rain-soaked jacket. The impact had thrown the shooter's aim high, but the round tore through Nemiya's shoulder and ribs.
The boss stumbled back, disoriented, face twisting into a grimace at the interference. “You useless *rat*!” he roared, momentarily distracted by Nemiya’s fallen form.
It was the only opening Ondrio needed. He covered the remaining distance in a blur of focused aggression, his custom-tailored suit jacket flapping in the wind. His hand shot out, not toward Tessana, but directly at the boss's wrist. With a brutal wrench, he tore the automatic from the man's grip, sending it skittering across the slick metal plating. The weapon vanished into the inky depths between stacked containers with a faint splash.
The boss lunged on raw instinct, but Ondrio slammed an open-palmed strike into his cheekbone, snapping the man’s head back. Blood spurted from split cartilage, washing away under the squall.
“You touch *her* again,” Ondrio growled, his voice a low, guttural snarl that vibrated with barely contained violence, “and I will peel your skin from your bones.”
He didn't wait for a response. His fist hammered into the boss's gut, doubling the heavier man over. Ondrio followed with an uppercut that lifted the syndicate enforcer clean off his soles before he crashed back down against the wet iron. The rain slicked the deck, but Ondrio’s footing was unerring, each movement precise and devastating.
The boss tried to scramble back, but Ondrio drove a knee into his ribs, then another. Ondrio hoisted him up by his lapels before driving a final strike across his jaw that sent him sprawling limp across the plating.
Ondrio stood over the motionless body, ribs heaving as rain poured down his collar. He looked past the fallen enforcer, locking onto Tessana with frantic intensity.
“Tessana! Are you hurt? Talk to me!” he demanded, his voice rough with fear. He knelt beside Nemiya, his face grim, checking for a pulse that was barely there. “Medics! Now!” he roared into his comms, already pressing a hand against the wound, trying to staunch the flow. He looked at Tessana, his gaze softening. “She saved you.”
Tessana could only nod through the sleet, staring at Nemiya’s blood-streaked collar. Her friend wheezed softly, fingers clawing the wet grating. “Elaria,” Nemiya whispered, eyelids fluttering open toward Tessana with a faint, searching plea.
Just then, the *Vallari Leviathan’s* main cargo bay doors groaned open, revealing a flood of Ondrio’s Vanguard Ascendants, weapons lowered. They secured the colossal EMP device, its dark, humming bulk an ominous presence. Behind them, a terrified young woman, thin and pale, was carefully escorted out by two operatives. Elaria. Nemiya’s sister.
Nemiya’s lips curved into a faint, weak smile as her eyes found Elaria. “Safe,” she murmured on an exhale, and then her eyes closed, her body going completely still. The last vestiges of tension drained from her, leaving only a profound, heartbreaking stillness.
Tessana let out a choked cry, her heart aching with a fresh, terrible grief. She stumbled forward, her legs unsteady, and collapsed against Ondrio, burying her face against his chest. His arms came around her, strong and reassuring, pulling her tight against his solid frame. The smell of his cologne, of rain and metal, filled her senses, grounding her in the chaos. He held her close, stroking her hair, a silent anchor in the storm.
“It’s over, Tessana. You’re safe. We’re safe,” he murmured, his voice a balm against her raw nerves. He pressed a kiss into her hair, a tender, possessive gesture. The adrenaline of the battle began to recede, leaving a hollow ache in its wake.
But as the tension drained, so too did the strength from Tessana’s limbs. A sharp, searing pain tore through Tessana's abdomen, an agonizing rip that seized her chest. Her vision swam, the vibrant lights of the shipyard blurring into an indistinct haze. Her muscles spasmed, and a violent cough ripped through her, tasting of iron. She could feel a warm, viscous wetness spreading inside her, a catastrophic internal rupture.
Her knees buckled. Ondrio’s grip tightened, but he couldn’t hold her. Her body collapsed into dead weight in his arms. Her head lolled back, eyes wide and unseeing, staring up at the churning, rain-filled sky. The warmth of his embrace faded into cold, hard steel as she slid from his grasp, collapsing onto the grimy deck with a soft thud.
“Tessana! No!” Ondrio yelled, dropping his knees hard into the metal deck. He dropped to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as he cradled her pale face, searching for a flicker of life. Her lips were blue, her skin like ice.
Medics swarmed around them, a flurry of motion and hushed, urgent voices. They pushed Ondrio back, their movements precise and practiced, but their faces were grim. The lead doctor, a gaunt man with steady hands, pressed his stethoscope to Tessana’s chest, then leaned in, his expression turning to one of grave finality.
He looked up, his eyes meeting Ondrio’s distraught gaze. “Her heart stopped, sir. The experimental serum isn’t ready.”