MICHAEL

  THE ONLY THING HE COULD DO was to watch. So he stood there, fists clenched at his sides, and stared through the black glass of his visor as the rocket split mid-air and bloomed into fire. Amaia was on that ship. He lost her again.

  This mission had begun like a dream. Victory after victory. Clean hits. Clean extractions. Until Yanick met Amaia.

  After that, it was all blood, gravel and freefall.

  He started to doubt. Maybe it would have been better if he saw it first. The Lunareth colony. Now he might not get another chance.

  “On the ground, Mike! Now!”

  The voice cracked through the rocks like a whip.

  He knew the drill. Of course he did. Knees slammed against the cracked soil. Chest followed. Face down, arms folded behind his head. The earth smelled of dust and ozone.

  Footsteps circled. Too many. Cloaks rustled. Weapons hummed with quiet menace. Someone nudged his ribs with a boot. Not hard. Familiar.

  “Didn’t expect to bag a legend today,” someone muttered above him.

  “Shouldn’t have stayed loyal,” another said, tone light but laced with tension.

  “Shame,” added a third. “He was one of the best.”

  Big Mike’s jaw clenched, pressed against the dirt. A pair of gloves snapped tight. Restraints clicked into place. Cold, magnetic. It took a lot of effort and four of them to do that, but they yanked him to his feet like hauling up meat.

  Visors flashed in the sunset. One of them, the officer tilted his head at Mike.

  “Why did you do it?” he asked.

  Mike didn’t answer. Just stared, breathing slow, the fire still reflected in his lenses.

  “They were right,” the officer spoke. “You turn out to be just like your traitor friend.”

  Then he turned to his men and gave order.

  “Take him to the cells.”

  They grabbed his arms.

  Mike didn’t resist, though every muscle screamed for war. He wanted to fight back. Of course he did.

  His whole body itched to kill. To tear them apart. His own kin.

  ***

  “IF THIS WAS BECAUSE of this little friend of yours,” Matt said, pointing at the guard who’s nose Big Mike just broke with an spectacular headbutt. “Than I have something to ease your nerves.”

  The guard still on the floor, nose twisted to his cheek, was desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

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  “Don’t tilt your head,” Big Mike said, his voice calm. “You might choke on the blood. Just let it flow. It’ll stop eventually.”

  Matt looked at him and smiled. Of course he did. He knew the man strapped to the chair was the same Michael he served with couple of years ago.

  “Sorry, mate,” Mike said, casual, like they were sharing a meal in the mess. “You were saying?”

  “Don’t “mate” me”, Matt faces changed, so did his voice. “This days are long gone. And you just assaulted one of my men. For fuck’s sake, Mike, what are you doing?”

  “I used to follow the orders, same as you. But once I saw what they’re planning—”

  “You don’t have to go through the whole speech. I know you. You're still the soft one. Somewhere under all that muscle is the same kid I trained with. And yeah, I know you got attached. I read the reports.”

  He paused.

  “But you can calm down now. She’s alive.”

  Big Mike blinked.

  “Gabe used the emergency pod. They landed in the sea. He checked in. They’re on their way to Astoris.”

  “They’ve send Gabe with her?” Big Mike scoffed. “Don’t you think it’s a little ironic?”

  “I don’t question their decisions,” Matt replied.

  Of course he doesn’t.

  “What are you going to do with me?” Mike asked, eyes locked on Matt.

  Mat exhaled slowly through his nose.

  “That’s a good one,” he muttered. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “The orders haven’t come yet?” Mike offered a crooked grin.

  “There will be no orders concerning you,” Matt said flatly. “You are no longer one of us.”

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  Matt looked away for a second, just enough to betray the truth.

  “You know I couldn’t.”

  “You will have to,” Mike said, voice low. Steady. “If you lock me up, I will escape. And I will finish what I’ve started.”

  Matt turned to face him again, searching Mike’s expression for something that might still be familiar.

  “And what exactly is it you think you’ve started?”

  ***

  Big Mike’s eyes widened. His heart thundered against his ribs louder than it had in years. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. But he couldn’t show it. Of course he couldn’t. Not in front of them.

  He’d just snapped at Rayla, told her to be quiet. That was already more than he should’ve said. She moved on to bother Yanick now. This stupid, reckless boy, who had fallen for the wrong girl and started acting like one of those tragic heroes from the novels Mike’s mother used to read aloud. He hated those stories then and he hated this one now. Especially because he was a part of it.

  He wondered what his mother would say if she saw these documents. If she saw the photos. That the very people they had served for generations, the ones they lived and bled for, killed for. These people had gone mad.

  Just like he warned. Just like Luc had predicted.

  Mike stared at the photographs Yanick had taken on the farm, unable to look away. He read the notes again, lips parting, breath shallow. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  Years of loyalty. A lifetime of belief. All of it built on lies.

  He pretended that he’s still reading, but in fact he was putting it all together in his head. Of course he did. He had to.

  His whole life was a lie. The Great War under the banner of Black Moon was a war of lies. Nemeth had been taking orders from the Elders the entire time. From the Overmen on the base. From the ones who played god.

  They’d planted myths. Prophets. Gods. Set them loose among humans to fracture the world, spark chaos. Then they turned one nation into an empire and aimed it like a spear at the rest. Conquer. Enslave. Extract. All for copper, iron, gold—resources funneled back to the Moon.

  But the real plan was already in motion. Lunareth. The secret island. A hidden colony, blooming in silence. A new beginning. A place of their own.

  A landing and launching port hidden in the old crater surrounded by high mountains. Even the Overmen using it had no idea it was there.

  And to secure it, the Elders needed another war. Of course they did.

  They needed leaders like Nemeth. Like Rayla.

  Fanatics. Loyal to the bone.

  Obedient enough to burn the world down if ordered.

  But Mike could change it. He could stop it.

  All he had to do was remove a few pieces from the board. The right ones. Clean. Precise. Final. He did not have to kill them. Only make them useless to the players.

  His eyes flicked to Rayla. She stood still, unreadable, but he wondered if she knew. She who hated Nemeth with a fire so bright it could burn holes in steel. Or so it seemed.

  She knows, he thought. Of course she does. But it doesn’t matter. I’m going to stop them all.

  He powered off the mobile screen, the image fading into black, and slipped it back under his cloak.

  “What did you see?” Rayla asked.

  Mike looked at her, then at Yanick.

  “A great deal,” he said, voice flat as iron.