Naomi Roux hunched over in the dimly lit undry room, her trembling hands gripping the cold edge of the industrial washer. The rhythmic hum of the machines filled the silence like a muffled dirge, masking her shallow, unsteady breaths. Her distorted reflection stared back at her from the washer’s curved gss. Hollow-eyed ghost she could barely recognize. For a fleeting moment, the face in the gss wasn’t hers at all. It was Lieutenant Sixta’s. Sharp, unyielding, and utterly inhuman.

  Her mind reeled. Monster. The word echoed like a gunshot in her skull, over and over again. It wasn’t just the whisper of her own shame—it was Yakiv’s voice, full of venom, when they’d torn her off Ayna. Monster. It was the voice of every colonist, every survivor on the Chronos, staring at her with fear and disgust. Monster.

  She shut her eyes tightly, willing the memories to stop. But they came anyway. Blood. Screams. The lifeless, gssy stares of those she’d killed without hesitation. The weight of her Bck Shadow armor, its jet-bck pting designed to absorb light, making her seem like a phantom of death. She could still feel the trigger beneath her finger, the way it gave so easily when she pulled it, over and over again.

  Her hands moved instinctively to her throat, where the phantom pain of the rear naked choke she’d used on Ayna still lingered. She hadn’t meant to hurt her. She’d only wanted to stop her panic before it endangered them all. But the Shadow—the thing inside her—had taken over. It always did, in moments like that. And when she came back to herself, Ayna had been gasping for air, cwing at Naomi’s arms in terror.

  The door hissed open behind her.

  Naomi’s entire body reacted before her mind could catch up. Muscles coiled, heart hammering, pupils diting. A thousand ways to kill the intruder flickered through her mind in an instant—snap the neck, crush the windpipe, shatter the spine. Her hands flexed, ready to strike.

  Then she saw him.

  –. Max. – she whispered, her voice barely audible over the machines.

  He stood in the doorway, disheveled and exhausted, one hand rubbing his eyes as if to push back tears. His other hand clutched the doorframe, knuckles white. His presence sent a shudder through her—not of fear, but of something far worse.

  Naomi saw it in her mind’s eye: Max, disemboweled by her psma saw, his face twisted in shock and agony. Her throat closed up, bile rising as she imagined his blood pooling around her feet, his body broken because she had failed to stop herself.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, hiding her face between her knees.

  –. Don’t – she muttered, more to herself than to him.

  –. Naomi – Max said softly, stepping inside. The door hissed shut behind him, sealing them in the suffocating silence of the undry room. –. Can I stay with you? –

  She didn’t answer. Her shoulders trembled, but she didn’t lift her head. Max took her silence as permission and sat down beside her on the cold metal floor, his back against the wall. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The low hum of the washers filled the void between them.

  Max pced an arm around her shoulders, tentative and gentle, like he was afraid she might shatter beneath his touch. Naomi froze. Her Bck Shadow programming screamed at her—threat, vulnerability, eliminate. But she didn’t move. She stayed perfectly still, her breath hitching as the scent of Max’s sweat and worn uniform filled her senses. He was warm. Human.

  –. They’re quieter now. – Max said eventually, breaking the silence. His voice was hoarse, low, like a man carrying the weight of too many burdens –. Harding convinced them it was an accident. He told them you didn’t mean to hurt her. And... deep down, I think they believe him. They know you’ve saved their lives too many times to count. –

  Naomi let out a ragged breath, her forehead pressed to her knees. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  –. Of course it matters. – Max insisted, his hand tightening on her shoulder –. Naomi, you’ve done nothing but save lives since you came aboard the Chronos. You’ve proven over and over again that you’re not…—

  –. Not what? – she snapped, lifting her head to gre at him. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face streaked with tears –. Not a monster? Is that what you were going to say? –

  Max flinched, caught off guard by her outburst. She let out a bitter ugh, shaking her head.

  –. They’re right, Max – she said, her voice breaking –. I am a monster. You know what I’ve done. What I still see every time I close my eyes. I’ve killed children. Families. Innocent people. I didn’t just kill them, I executed them. Efficiently. Mercilessly. Because that’s what I was made to do. – Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms until they left crescent-shaped marks –. And no matter how much I try to forget, it’s still there. That thing inside me. Waiting. –

  Max stared at her, his face a mixture of heartbreak and helplessness.

  –. Naomi… –

  –. Do you know what they called us on Ganymede?– she continued, her voice rising. –. Bck Shadows. They told stories about us to scare their kids. They said we weren’t human. That we were demons, darkness made flesh. And they were right. I wasn’t human. I was just a tool. A killing machine. –

  –. You’re not that anymore. – Max said firmly, cutting through her spiral of despair.

  Naomi ughed again, harsher this time.

  –. Aren’t I? Forty minutes ago, I almost killed Ayna. I wasn’t even in control. It just... happened. And you know what the worst part is? –She looked at him, her eyes glistening. –. For a second, it felt good. It felt right. –

  Max’s jaw tightened. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before taking her hand in his.

  –. Listen to me. – he said, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions in his eyes. –. You’re not a monster. Not to me. Not to anyone who’s seen who you really are. You saved my life more times than I can count. You’ve saved all of us. And yeah, maybe you were made to kill. Maybe that’s what they programmed you for. But you’ve spent every single day fighting against that. That’s what makes you human, Naomi. Not what you were, but what you choose to be. –

  Her lip trembled, and for a moment she couldn’t speak. She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to. But the weight of her past crushed her like a lead bnket, suffocating and inescapable.

  She looked away, her gaze returning to the distorted reflection in the washer’s gss. The face staring back at her wasn’t Lieutenant Sixta this time. It was her own.

  And it terrified her.

  – You monster. – She could still hear him; Obolensky. His broken cries echoed in her mind, raw and jagged, full of rage and despair.

  The words were sharp, spat in Russian through a thick Martian accent, his voice trembling with helpless fury. She remembered the way his face twisted, the way the veins in his neck bulged as he screamed at her. And then the moment she ended it.

  A clean shot to the face. No anger. No hesitation. It had been precise, mechanical—efficient.

  Naomi clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms hard enough to draw blood. The memory wasn’t fading. It never did. The screams of Obolensky’s wife rang out, followed by her daughter’s. One shot for each of them. No warning. No remorse.

  She didn’t even remember why. Maybe there had been an order. Maybe they had been bargaining chips that lost their value. Or maybe it didn’t matter. They were just another fraction in the countless lives she’d taken.

  Her breath hitched. Were these her memories? Or someone else’s? Since waking up in that field hospital on Ganymede, everything felt like a cruel joke—the Bck Shadow’s programming cwing at her sanity while her newfound conscience crushed her under the weight of what she’d done.

  Naomi flinched. Her reflection stared back at her from the curved gss, distorted and alien. It wasn’t her face she saw. It was Lieutenant Sixta’s. Cold. Unrelenting. A soldier’s face. A monster’s face.

  Her throat tightened, a lump forming as the tears welled up. You’re a monster, Yakiv had said earlier, his voice dripping with contempt. Obolensky was right.

  A sob escaped her lips before she could stop it, and she buried her face in her hands. She hated how weak she felt, how broken. But the truth was undeniable. A normal person didn’t think about these things. They didn’t spend every waking moment imagining the blood and bodies of their friends—Sawatari, Harding, Gavin, Max—ripped apart by their own hands.

  Naomi’s chest heaved as the tears came faster, hot and bitter. She didn’t even notice Max until the door hissed open, its sound cutting through the oppressive noise of the machines.

  Her entire body tensed before her mind could register who it was. Instinct took hold, muscles coiling like a spring. In her mind, she saw an enemy—a UCSM soldier in power armor, his orange camoufge vivid against the bck of space. Her body screamed for action—ambush, neutralize, kill.

  For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was thick and suffocating, broken only by the hum of the washers.

  –. I need to ask you a favor. – Naomi said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Max turned to her, his brow furrowing in confusion.

  –. What is it? –

  She didn’t look at him. Her hands fidgeted in her p as she struggled to find the words. Her throat felt like it was closing, her chest tight with the weight of what she was about to say. Tears streamed down her face, and the sobs she’d been holding back broke free.

  Max’s expression shifted, his confusion giving way to concern as he pced a hand gently on her cheek.

  –. Naomi, what’s wrong? –

  Her lips quivered as she forced the words out, each sylble like a shard of gss cutting her from the inside.

  –. If I lose control again… – she began, her voice shaking. She finally turned to meet his gaze, her eyes brimming with desperation and fear –. If I lose control again, I want you to kill me. –

  Max froze, his eyes wide with shock. The words hit him like a physical blow, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

  –. What the hell are you saying? – he demanded, his voice trembling. He grabbed her shoulders, his grip firm but not harsh, as if he could anchor her to him and stop the storm raging inside her –. How could you even think of asking me that? –

  –. It’s the only way. – Naomi said, her voice cracking. She couldn’t look at him anymore –. You’ve seen what I can do. If it happens again, I... I can’t risk it. I can’t risk hurting you. –

  Max shook his head violently, tears streaming down his own face now.

  –. No. No, Naomi. Don’t say that. Don’t even think it. You’re not going to lose control again. I won’t let you. I’ll be there. I’ll protect you. –

  Naomi let out a bitter ugh, her head falling against his chest.

  –. You can’t promise that. – she whispered –. We both know it’s a lie. –

  Max tightened his arms around her, pulling her close as if sheer force of will could keep her safe.

  –. It’s not a lie. – he said fiercely –. I’ll make sure it never happens again. I don’t care what it takes. I’m not losing you, Naomi. –

  For a brief moment, she let herself believe him. She let herself feel the comfort of his embrace, the warmth of his body against hers. It made her feel human again, if only for a fleeting second.

  But the fragile peace shattered as a muffled thump echoed through the room, followed by a guttural, inhuman scream.

  The sound sent a jolt of terror through Naomi’s body, her muscles tensing as goosebumps erupted across her skin. Max froze, his breath hitching as the two of them held perfectly still, listening.

  The scream cut off abruptly, plunging the room into silence.

  And that’s when they realized the terrible truth.

  One of those things had entered the shelter.

  ***

  Gavin adjusted the strap of his rifle as the sound echoed through the corridors—a crunch, sharp and visceral, followed by the metallic cng of something heavy hitting steel. Then came the scream.

  It wasn’t human—not anymore. It stretched and warped, sting far longer than any natural voice should, as if it was being dragged through a grinder. The sound twisted into a ragged, agonizing wail that made Gavin’s stomach churn. When it finally stopped, the silence that followed was worse.

  The group froze, tension thick in the stale air.

  –. What the fuck was that? – Biagio whispered, his voice trembling.

  –. The water pumps room. – Harding said grimly, his eyes narrowing. He gripped his pistol tighter.

  –. We could seal it off. – Limona suggested quickly, her tone clipped and practical. –. Use the pressure bulkhead. – Her suggestion hung in the air for a moment, but no one moved to act on it.

  Gavin swallowed hard, his throat dry. Sealing the bulkhead might have worked—once. But they all remembered what had happened st time in the medical bay. Those things didn’t respect barriers. They didn’t follow rules. They came from everywhere, even the ground.

  –. No. – Harding said finally, his voice firm. –. We can’t risk it. We check it out. –

  The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

  Harding didn’t wait for volunteers, but they stepped forward anyway. Lexner offered first, his jaw tight with determination, despite the tension in his eyes. Gavin wasn’t surprised. Lexner always threw himself into danger headfirst, but this time, it wasn’t bravado—it was necessity.

  –.I’ll go. – Limona said, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. Her movements were precise, military. She wasn’t C-Sec like the others; she was from the Colonial Guard, a real soldier. That made her invaluable.

  –. I’m coming too. – Gavin said, his voice steadier than he felt. He didn’t trust the others to conserve ammo, and, like any good Martian, he’d done his military service. But if he was being honest with himself, it wasn’t duty that drove him. It was fear. Fear of sitting still. Fear of doing nothing.

  Biagio stepped forward next, trembling but resolute. His hands shook as he clutched his weapon, and his eyes darted nervously to Yakiv, who stood silently at his side.

  –. Don’t shoot me by mistake. – Yakiv muttered as he stepped forward, his tone dry but his posture alert. He wasn’t volunteering out of guilt like Biagio. He knew how to use a weapon, and it was clear he didn’t trust anyone else to keep them alive.

  The rest stayed behind—Murat and Satoshi to guard the others, Delih to work with Max. Harding didn’t say it, but everyone knew Max wasn’t in any condition to come.

  As the small group moved toward the water engine room, the reality of what they were doing set in. The air seemed heavier, the shadows darker. Each step echoed against the cold steel walls, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence.

  When they reached the door, Harding raised a clenched fist, signaling them to stop. The hiss of the door sliding open felt deafening.

  Harding stepped cautiously into the frame, his pistol raised. The fshlight beam cut through the oppressive darkness, sweeping left to right in slow, deliberate arcs. His finger hovered over the trigger, ready to fire at the first sign of movement.

  The room beyond was utilitarian and drab, like the rest of the ship. Ft gray walls lined with faded nomencture and procedures. The dim light from flickering spotlights made the space feel distorted, wrong. Orange pools of stagnant water spread across the floor, arranged in monotonous corridors that stretched into the distance.

  –. Stay sharp. – Harding muttered under his breath.

  A hole gaped in the ceiling above them, revealing a tangled mess of pipes and sublevels. Emergency pressure seals had closed around the breach, but the damage was clear. Water pumps were crushed, the floor dented and warped, and a puddle of dark liquid seeped from broken pipes.

  Harding’s fshlight lingered on the area. He didn’t need to say it out loud. The hull monster had come through here before.

  –. Fuck, what a mess. – Lexner muttered, his voice low.

  Harding turned sharply, silencing him with a gre. Lexner frowned but said nothing more.

  The smell hit them next. Damp and metallic, like rusted pipes left to rot, but underneath it was something far worse. A rancid, sour stench of decay and meat long spoiled. Gavin gagged, covering his mouth with his sleeve, but the smell seemed to cling to the back of his throat.

  Harding raised his fist again, signaling them to spread out. He didn’t need to say it, but he did anyway:

  –. Shoot first. Ask questions ter. –

  Yakiv opened his mouth to speak, but Harding cut him off with a sharp gesture.

  –. You stay with Biagio. Watch his back. –

  The group fanned out, their fshlights cutting narrow beams through the gloom. Shadows danced and stretched across the walls, warped and twisted as though mocking them.

  Lexner froze by a broken water pump, his fshlight catching something slick and brown smeared across the metal. His breath hitched as he heard it—faint, bored breathing.

  –. Shit. – he muttered under his breath, his finger tightening on the trigger.

  He rounded the pump slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. For a split second, he thought he saw something—a hunched, elongated silhouette. His blood turned to ice, but then the fshlight caught his own shadow, distorted against the wall.

  He exhaled shakily, relief flooding his veins.

  –. Clear. – he called out, his voice shaky –. Nothing here. –

  But he was wrong.

  It came from behind the pipes, unfolding itself from an impossible position. The creature reared up, its body elongated and twisted, its movements a grotesque mockery of humanity. Its face, if it could even be called that was stretched and mutited, a bck maw filled with teeth like jagged shards of obsidian.

  Lexner’s fshlight flickered as he turned, his weapon snapping up, but the creature was faster. A tentacle shot out, piercing his arm with a sickening crunch.

  —. Glen! – Harding shouted, but it was too te.

  –. Oh, fuck!! — Biagio stammered, his voice breaking as he stumbled back.

  The creature lunged, its jaws cmping down on Lexner’s neck and shoulder with a wet, sickening crack. Blood sprayed as it lifted him effortlessly, shaking him like a rag doll before smming him into the pump with enough force to shatter bone.

  The sound of his body breaking was deafening.

  It happened too fast.

  Harding barked an order—

  –. Hold the line! — but the words barely registered before the monster lunged. A blur of sinew and malice, it tore through the room like a hurricane. The first thing Yakiv saw was Harding yanked off his feet, the sergeant’s grapple line snapping taut as he was flung into the air.

  Limona’s rifle clicked empty. Her hands fumbled with a cartridge, her breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps. She tried to reload, but the cartridge slipped through her trembling fingers, cttering to the floor.

  It was her first and st mistake.

  The beast was on her in an instant. Its jaws cmped around her torso, lifting her off the ground like a rag doll. The crunch of her body against a pipe was sickening, and Yakiv froze as the sound of her neck snapping echoed through the room.

  Limona’s lifeless body dropped to the floor with a wet thud.

  Yakiv didn’t think. He didn’t pn. His body moved on instinct, his legs carrying him away as fast as they could. His breath came in ragged bursts, his heart a drumbeat of terror. Fear thought for him, clouding his mind with a single, primal directive: Run.

  By the time he stopped, he was crouching under a massive piece of machinery, his arms wrapped around his knees. His hands cmped over his ears, and he squeezed his eyes shut, whispering incoherent prayers to gods he didn’t believe in.

  –. Just go away – he begged under his breath –. Don’t find me. Don’t find me. –

  The muffled sound of gunfire echoed in the distance. Biagio was screaming now, shouting curses as he emptied his gun into the shadows. The shots were frantic, scattered, hitting everything but the target.

  And then, miraculously, one of the bullets struck the beast in the eye.

  The monster let out a guttural, enraged howl, its tentacles thrashing wildly. Biagio froze for a moment, paralyzed by the realization of what he’d done. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he turned and bolted.

  He didn’t make it far.

  A tentacle shed out, catching Biagio across the back with a sickening crack. Blood sprayed across the floor as he colpsed, his jacket torn open to reveal a gaping wound. Yakiv could only watch in horror as the beast pounced on him, obscuring his view.

  What followed wasn’t a death—it was a dismantling.

  The sound of Biagio’s screams tore through the room, more animal than human. Flesh ripping like wet fabric. Bones snapping like brittle twigs. The monster worked with grotesque efficiency, reducing Biagio to a bloody heap as his cries dwindled into wet, gurgling whimpers.

  And then silence.

  The creature reappeared, crawling on all fours like some twisted, nightmarish ape. Its bloodied form glistened in the flickering light, and Yakiv’s stomach churned. He barely registered the muffled sobs coming from the other side of the room—Limona.

  She was still alive.

  For a brief, fleeting moment, hope sparked in Yakiv’s chest. Maybe she would survive. Maybe they could save her.

  The monster thought otherwise.

  It climbed onto a nearby pipe, its grotesque body towering over her. Limona’s pitiful screams grew louder as the creature tilted its head, almost curious. It loomed over her for a moment, as if savoring her terror.

  And then it struck.

  The sound was unbearable. Wet, crunching impacts as the beast pounded her into the floor. Her screams were short-lived, repced by the sickening squelch of pulverized flesh. It went on far too long, until there was nothing left but silence and the faint drip of blood pooling beneath the pipes.

  Yakiv curled into a tighter ball, his body trembling uncontrolbly. He buried his face in his arms, praying it would be over quickly.

  But something made him open his eyes.

  Across the room, Harding was crouched behind a support beam, his eyes wide and wild like a cornered animal. Gavin was nowhere to be seen—dead, perhaps, or just smarter than the rest of them. Yakiv couldn’t bme him for running.

  Their eyes met, and for a moment, they were just two terrified men clinging to the edge of survival. Then their gazes drifted, almost in unison, to the object lying a few feet away.

  A psma gun.

  It was the pistol Yakiv had dropped in his blind panic. The faint light glinted off its sleek surface, almost mocking them.

  Harding shook his head slowly, his expression grim.

  –. It’s a bad idea. – his silence seemed to say.

  But Yakiv’s mind wasn’t listening. The memory of his son—his sweet little Artyom—fshed before his eyes. He remembered the day the fireflies took him, twisting his small, fragile body into something hideous. He remembered the distorted sound of his boy’s voice, mingling with the guttural roars of the beast that had once been human.

  His son’s face. His brother. His entire life, stolen by these monsters.

  Yakiv clenched his jaw, his fear momentarily overridden by desperation. Ignoring Harding’s warning, he lunged for the gun.

  The beast was faster.

  It leapt from its perch with terrifying speed, intercepting Yakiv mid-dive. The pistol skittered across the floor, disappearing beneath the machinery. Yakiv hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him.

  When he looked up, the creature was standing over him.

  It was massive. Over eight feet tall, its gaunt frame bristling with tendrils of sinewy flesh. Its breathing was deep and ragged, like the growl of an enraged bull. Its eyes locked onto his, and Yakiv felt a cold, paralyzing dread seep into his bones. There was something in that gaze; something cruel, calcuting, and undeniably human.

  He took a shaky step back. The beast mirrored him, matching his movements with an eerie precision. When he turned his head, it did the same. When he scratched his scalp, the creature mimicked the motion with its cwed limb.

  It was toying with him.

  Yakiv’s stomach churned as the realization hit him: there was no escape.

  The monster lunged.

  A deafening roar split the air.

  The beast’s arm exploded in a spray of blood and brown slime, the hyperdiamond shrapnel tearing through its limb like paper. It let out a piercing shriek, staggering backward.

  Another shot.

  This time, the creature’s leg was blown clean off, and it colpsed to the floor, filing helplessly amidst the growing pool of its own gore.

  Yakiv’s knees buckled as the beast’s screams filled the room, but for the first time, they weren’t the screams of a predator.

  They were the screams of prey.

  Smoke curled from the barrel of Naomi’s shotgun. She stood over the creature, her hands steady, her expression cold and unreadable.

  The beast twitched again, its cws scraping against the metal floor in a st, desperate attempt to rise.

  Naomi didn’t flinch.

  Another shot rang out, deafening in the enclosed space. The bst obliterated what remained of its face—its muzzle shattered, teeth and bone spraying across the floor. The creature let out a wet, gurgling gasp, its chest rising and falling with ragged, stertorous breaths.

  Naomi pumped the shotgun, her movements mechanical, emotionless. She aimed again.

  The fourth shot echoed like a death knell. The monster’s body jerked once before colpsing completely, its spasms slowing until it was motionless.

  Yakiv stared at the lifeless heap, bile rising in his throat. The smell of burnt flesh and rotting meat clung to the air, making him gag. His trembling lips parted, but no words came.

  Before he could thank her, the rest of the group arrived, their hurried footsteps cnging against the floor.

  –. Oh my God… – Max’s voice was barely audible as he stepped into the room, his Psma Saw powered down and hanging limply at his side. His wide, horrified eyes swept over the carnage.

  Naomi stood frozen, shotgun still raised, staring down at the mutited corpse of the creature that had torn through their makeshift team. Blood spttered her face and uniform, and she seemed almost detached, like she was somewhere far away.

  –. I had to do it. – she whispered, her voice ft, almost hollow –. The Fairy was going to kill them, so I killed it first. –

  Her justification hung in the air, fragile and trembling, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as the others.

  Max moved closer, his voice soft and reassuring.

  –. You did well, Naomi. You did good. –

  Naomi’s eyes flicked to him, searching his face for something—understanding, perhaps, or forgiveness. But her expression didn’t change. She didn’t respond.

  Yakiv’s gaze shifted to the carnage around him, and his stomach turned. Limona’s body y crumpled near the pipe where the monster had thrown her, her neck twisted unnaturally. Biagio wasn’t far away, or what was left of him. His torso was torn open, his jacket soaked with blood. The rest of him was scattered across the room—shredded limbs, fragments of bone, wet chunks of flesh.

  –. Jesus… – Yakiv muttered, his voice cracking as he turned away, unable to look any longer.

  –. Over here! – Murat’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and urgent.

  The group turned, their fshlights cutting through the dim, flickering light. Lexner was slumped in a corner, leaning against the wall, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Blood pooled beneath him, spreading slowly across the floor.

  Murat knelt beside him, taking his hand firmly in his own.

  –. Lexner, stay with me. – he urged, his voice low but steady.

  Lexner’s eyes fluttered open, gssy and unfocused. He struggled to lift his head, to pull himself upright, but his body wouldn’t obey.

  –. It’s... it’s bad… – Lexner rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

  –. You’re going to be fine. – Murat lied, gripping his hand tighter –. We’ll get you out of here. Just hold on. –

  Lexner’s eyes flickered, his lips twitching as if he wanted to respond. But before he could, his body sagged, his head rolling to the side. His chest stilled, and his eyes gzed over, their faint light extinguished.

  Murat sat back on his heels, his face grim. He reached up and gently closed Lexner’s lifeless eyes, his movements slow and deliberate.

  The silence that followed was suffocating.

  Max took a step back, his hand running through his hair as he stared at the floor, his shoulders slumping. Yakiv leaned against the wall, his head in his hands, shaking as he tried to steady his breathing.

  Naomi remained where she was, standing over the monster’s corpse, her knuckles white as she gripped the shotgun. Her gaze was distant, fixed on something none of them could see.

  The air in the room felt heavier, colder, as if the ship itself were mourning the dead.

  –. They didn’t stand a chance. – Yakiv muttered, his voice barely audible.

  Max turned to him, his jaw tightening.

  –. None of us do. – he said bitterly, his voice ced with exhaustion.

  No one argued.

  The group’s unspoken understanding hung in the air, wrapping around them like a shroud. Their refuge wasn’t a sanctuary anymore. It was a graveyard.

  And somewhere, in the suffocating dark, the fireflies were waiting.