15. Bruticus

CHAPTER 15

brUTICUS

T he leather suit chafes against my bone spurs. The mask itches. My reflection in Maryse's mirror looks ridiculous - like a reject from a budget holovid about space ninjas.

"Computer, delete security footage for the past hour."

"Footage deleted."

The encryption key burns in my pocket. Such a small thing, to unlock such sweet vengeance. Vorpa came through after all. The detective's message waits on my wrist display:

"Time to end this. 2847 High Street, Level 12. Don't get caught."

My boots whisper against the floor as I check my weapons one last time. Blade at my hip. Stunner in my boot. Garotte wire up my sleeve.

"Computer, engage privacy mode."

The windows darken. Perfect timing - the sun sets over Alpha Centauri station, casting long shadows across the habitat ring. Time to hunt.

I touch Maryse's collar where it hangs by the bed. The metal feels cool against my fingertips.

"I'll make it back to you," I whisper. "But first, your father has a debt to pay."

The door hisses shut behind me. The corridor stretches empty in both directions. My modified security badge should get me through most checkpoints without raising alarms.

Level 12. Where the station's elite make their homes. Where Commander Daniels sleeps soundly, thinking himself untouchable.

Time to prove him wrong.

The first checkpoint looms ahead. Red warning lights pulse along the doorframe. My pulse quickens as I approach, badge extended. The scanner chirps. Green light floods the frame.

The door slides open.

One down. Five to go.

My boots click against polished floor tiles. The corridor stretches endlessly, curved with the station's hull. Another checkpoint. Another scan. Another silent door.

Sweet vengeance draws closer with each step.

The third checkpoint requires a retinal scan. The badge overrides it. Technology dances to Vorpa's tune - the detective knows her trade well.

Four. My heart pounds against my ribs.

Five. Sweat trickles down my spine inside the leather suit.

The final checkpoint guards the residential wing. Beyond it lies my prey. The scanner hums, analyzing my badge. One eternal second passes.

Green light bathes my face. The door parts.

Apartment 2847 beckons from the end of the hall. No guards. No cameras. Just a simple door between me and the man who murdered my mother.

I press the badge against the lock panel. It clicks. The door whispers open on well-oiled tracks.

Wealth drips from every surface of Daniels' quarters. Crystal sculptures catch the dim light. Antique wooden furniture - real wood, not synthetics - gleams with polish. The kitchen alone could house three families back on Rakura.

My boots sink into plush carpet as I stalk through the rooms. Empty guest bedrooms mock me with their pristine linens. All this space for one man while others crowd into capsule hotels.

The master suite doors part with a soft whoosh. Daniels sprawls across a massive bed, mouth slack in sleep. His chest rises and falls beneath silk pajamas. Gray hair fans across the pillow like a tarnished halo.

He looks... ordinary. Small. Nothing like the monster who haunts my nightmares. Just an old man sleeping away his sins.

My hand tightens on my blade. One quick strike and it ends. Clean. Simple. He doesn't deserve to see it coming.

But something stays my hand. The warrior's code my mother taught me whispers of honor, of facing one's enemy. Of looking into their eyes as you send them to the void.

No. Honor died with her. This isn't about satisfaction - it's about justice. Quick and quiet keeps Maryse safe. Keeps me alive to return to her.

The blade slides free without a sound. Daniels mumbles something in his sleep, shifts position. Still oblivious. Still vulnerable.

One thrust. That's all it will take. Just like he took everything from me with one order.

I raise the blade, position it over his heart. The metal gleams in the starlight filtering through the windows. Time to collect on old debts.

I peel off my glove, letting it drop to the floor. My claws extend, black and deadly in the dim light. One strike. That's all I need. My arm rises, muscles coiled for the killing blow.

A soft blue glow catches my eye. On the nightstand, a holographic frame cycles through photos. I freeze, arm still raised.

Red hair spills across green eyes that sparkle with laughter. That smile - I know that smile. Maryse beams out from the image, younger but unmistakable. She stands next to Daniels, both in formal wear at some military function.

The image shifts. Maryse as a child, perched on Daniels' shoulders. Another change - her graduation, him presenting her diploma with pride.

My arm trembles. The pieces click together with sickening clarity. Daniels. Maryse Daniels. Not a common surname at all.

I'm here to kill her father.

My claws retract. The room spins. My stomach heaves as I stagger back from the bed. The man who ordered my mother's death sleeps peacefully before me - and he's the father of the woman I love.

The blade slips from my nerveless fingers, hitting the carpet with a muted thud. I can't. Gods help me, I can't do it. Not to her.

A tear rolls down my face, splashing onto Daniels' weathered hand. His eyes snap open, fixing on my masked face looming above him.

My heart stops. Time freezes. Those gray eyes - Maryse's eyes - widen in recognition of the threat.

I bolt for the door as Daniels lunges for his nightstand. The drawer scrapes open. Metal gleams in the starlight.

The first shot cracks past my head. The second punches through my shoulder, spraying black blood across pristine walls. Pain flares, hot and sharp, but my feet keep moving.

"Guards! Intruder!" Daniels' voice booms through the apartment.

More shots follow me down the hallway. My enhanced healing kicks in, knitting flesh and bone even as I run. By the time I reach the first checkpoint, the wound is nothing but a dull ache.

The badge still works. Green lights flash as I sprint through security doors. Alarms blare behind me, but I'm already gone, a shadow melting into darkness.

Six levels down, three sectors over, I finally slow my pace. My heart hammers against my ribs, but not from exertion. The reality of what just happened crashes over me.

My hand brushes my opposite wrist - and finds bare skin where my glove should be.

Ice floods my veins. The glove. I left it in Daniels' bedroom.