The hum of the engine thrummed beneath me, steady and familiar, as the wind whipped past. The adrenaline that had been coursing through my veins finally began to settle, leaving behind that strange weightlessness that always came after a fight. Haley rode beside me, her bike weaving effortlessly along the cracked asphalt. The desert sprawled out on either side of us, endless and golden beneath the fading sky.

  The bikes themselves were something else — sleek, obsidian black with faint blue circuitry patterns glowing beneath the surface. You’d never guess they were once just simple necklaces, but that was the Bazxar for you. Half the stuff there bent the rules of reality like they were made of tissue paper. I wasn’t complaining. Fast, sturdy, and somehow more fuel-efficient than a solar panel — these things were perfect.

  But even with the peaceful ride, I couldn’t shake the feeling of Haley’s gaze lingering just a little too long. She thought I didn’t notice. I did.

  The Gilded Maw’s words had latched onto her like a snake bite, venom seeping slow. “There’s nothing on him. No records, no history. You’re following a ghost.”

  I could practically hear it. Even now, as the sun dipped low and the desert breeze cooled the sweat from the fight, those words were still crawling under her skin. She hadn’t said anything, but I knew. The way her jaw stayed tight. The occasional glances, like she was trying to read something in me that wasn’t there.

  And the worst part? She wasn’t wrong.

  My hands gripped the handlebars a little tighter. The static hum of residual electricity crackled faintly along my fingertips. I let it die out. No need to spark up a show when the fight was already done.

  The radio on my bike crackled to life, cutting through the silence. Some local station, half-static, half-soulful guitar. The kind of song that belonged on a drive like this. Low, gravelly vocals spilled through the speakers, the lyrics too lazy to care if you understood them.

  I smirked. “Guess the Bazxar didn’t upgrade their music selection.”

  Haley snorted, though it lacked her usual bite. “Yeah? Well, I’d take this over whatever garbage Rico’s crew probably blasts.”

  “Probably something with lots of bass. Overcompensating.”

  That earned a short laugh from her. Not forced. Not fake. Just… Haley. It felt good. Even if it was fleeting.

  The desert blurred past us, the horizon stretching like it wanted to swallow the road whole. But for a moment, it was just the bikes, the breeze, and the music. No bounty hunters. No twisted electricity-powered lunatics. No snake ladies with illusions and sharp tongues.

  Just the two of us.

  But even then, I knew it wouldn’t last.

  The bikes skidded to a halt outside the safe house, kicking up a small cloud of dust. The ride had been smoother than I expected — the adrenaline from the fight had burned away, leaving nothing but the hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of static still clinging to my fingers.

  Haley pulled up beside me, her cloud of hair tousled from the wind. She swung one leg over the seat and gave the building a once-over. It wasn’t much — squat and sturdy, tucked into the shadows of a half-collapsed overpass. A cracked neon sign buzzed weakly over the door, but the name was long gone. If anyone saw this place, they’d assume it was just another husk of a building, long since gutted by time.

  Perfect for someone like me.

  I tapped the side of my bike, and the sleek metallic frame shimmered. In a flash, it collapsed into its compact form, the silver necklace chain slipping into my palm. Haley followed suit, her bike twisting back into its pendant with a faint pulse of energy.

  “Well,” I said, stuffing mine into my pocket, “welcome to the humble abode.”

  She snorted. “Charming. I always dreamed of crashing in a post-apocalyptic dive.”

  “Hey, careful. The rats take offense.”

  I pushed open the rusted metal door, and the hinges let out a low groan in protest. Inside, the dim lights flickered to life, illuminating the makeshift space I’d thrown together over the last few months.

  The main room was a mix of half-finished repairs and scavenged tech. A cracked couch sat against one wall, covered in a patchwork of blankets I definitely hadn’t washed recently. Across from it, a dented workbench was cluttered with tools, stray wires, and whatever scraps I’d salvaged from my last job. The hum of a generator thrummed faintly from the back, keeping the lights on and the air circulation working just enough to not choke on the dust.

  Haley raised an eyebrow. “Cozy.”

  “Gets the job done.” I shrugged. “And the best part? No landlord.”

  She wandered over to the shelves lining the wall, inspecting the various odds and ends — mostly components I hadn’t figured out how to repurpose yet. An old security drone with a cracked lens, a half-assembled shock pistol, and a chunk of armor plating from some unlucky merc. Just souvenirs.

  “What’s with the spare junk?” she asked, poking at the drone.

  “That’s not junk,” I corrected, swatting her hand away. “It’s research. Or inspiration. Depends on the day.”

  “Sure,” she said dryly. “And the overflowing trash can?”

  “Also inspiration.”

  She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

  I led her further inside, past the narrow kitchen that barely qualified as one — a rickety stove, a sink with a questionable drip, and a mini-fridge that hummed like it was on its last legs. A pile of energy drink cans had formed a monument to my poor life choices.

  “Food’s in there,” I said, gesturing toward the fridge. “I wouldn’t open the bottom drawer, though. Some things are better left undisturbed.”

  “Good to know.”

  The hallway was tight, lined with flickering LED strips I’d rigged together. The doors along it were just as mismatched — one was a repurposed vault hatch, another looked like it came from an old bus. I liked the aesthetic. Or maybe I was just too lazy to find matching ones.

  We stopped at the last door on the right. It wasn’t much — plain, metal, with a lock that probably wouldn’t stop anyone determined enough. I twisted the knob and pushed it open.

  “Your room,” I said, stepping aside.

  The space inside was sparse. A cot against the far wall, a small desk littered with stray screws and empty water bottles, and a cracked window with a curtain barely hanging on. At least I’d cleaned out most of the debris. Couldn’t say the same for the suspicious stain on the concrete floor.

  “It’s…” Haley searched for the word, but nothing came.

  “Yeah. I know.”

  She dropped her bag on the cot with a dull thud and plopped down beside it. The springs let out a pathetic squeak. “Could use a woman’s touch.”

  “Knock yourself out.” I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “But fair warning — anything that smells like lavender or vanilla? Instantly banned.”

  She grinned, but the exhaustion was starting to creep in. Her hands traced absentmindedly along the tear in her jacket, the bloodstains on her sleeves a reminder of how close things had gotten.

  “You get used to it,” I said, softer now. “The quiet. The walls. After a while, it’s not so bad.”

  “Yeah?” Her gaze flicked up to meet mine. “And how long’s a while?”

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I gave a half-shrug and pushed off the frame. “I’ll be down the hall. There’s a shower, though the hot water’s more of a suggestion than a guarantee. Make yourself at home.”

  She watched me for a beat longer, like she was trying to read something in my face. But whatever she saw, she didn’t press.

  “Thanks, Kain.”

  I nodded, then turned away. The door creaked shut behind me, leaving her to the silence.

  And yeah — I felt it. That nagging weight in the back of my mind. The words Maw had left hanging in the air.

  You don’t know who he really is.

  I clenched my jaw. She didn’t know a damn thing. But sooner or later, Haley was gonna want answers. And when that time came, I wasn’t sure I’d have the ones she wanted to hear.

  The door shut behind me with a dull thud, leaving Haley to settle in. I didn’t envy her. The cot was about as comfortable as a slab of concrete, but at least it was better than the floor. Probably.