The balcony air was cooler, washed faintly with cigar smoke drifting from the garden below. Lina leaned against the rail, cigarette tip glowing as she drew slow, deliberate breaths. The music from the hall bled through the glass doors, muted strings and laughter that sounded far away.
A shadow fell beside her.
"You must be Lina Marcelli," the young man said. His voice carried an easy cadence, the kind of smooth confidence that came from knowing his name would open doors. He was younger than she expected, probably around twenty, skin dark as old copper, his smile sharp but not unfriendly.
"Iker Cortez." He let the name hang for a moment, watching her reaction. "My brother sends his regards."
Lina's jaw tightened around the cigarette, but she didn't answer. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder at Chrissy.
"Why don't you fetch us another round of champagne?" she said, tone light but leaving no room for protest.
Chrissy blinked, startled, then nodded quickly and slipped back inside, the sweep of her dress vanishing into the glow of the hall.
Only then did Lina turn back, exhaling smoke through her teeth.
Iker leaned on the rail, hands loose in his pockets as if the two of them were just strangers sharing a smoke. "We didn't come to Sector Nine looking for a war. Rafe believes there's room for both of us. Business enough to go around, if we don't trip over each other's feet."
He turned his head, meeting her eyes at last. "Pirates take the water. Marcellis own the ground. Seems simple enough, doesn't it?"
Lina let the silence stretch before replying, voice flat. "Simple until someone decides the ground leads back to the docks."
Lina tapped ash over the balcony rail, eyes narrowing.
"And why are you talking to me about this? Shouldn't you be discussing it with my father?"
Iker's smile didn't falter, though his gaze sharpened.
"My brother already did. But we think it's important the future head of the Marcelli family is on board as well."
The word future landed like a pebble in her glass, rippling outward. Lina's grip on the cigarette holder stilled, her expression unreadable, though the heat in her chest climbed.
For a moment Lina said nothing, the ember at the tip of her cigarette burning down to ash. The way Iker phrased it made clear enough. She wasn't being asked, she was being notified. Whatever deals were already in motion, she had no real choice in them.
But losing her temper here would only feed his smile. So she let her voice fall into an even, measured cadence.
"If my father has agreed, then there's room to talk. Until then, you'll have to forgive me for not committing to anything."
Iker inclined his head, his tone smooth as glass. "Of course. These things take time. No need for pressure."
Then he gestured lightly toward the hall behind them, where the hum of voices carried over the balcony doors. "Though… I couldn't help noticing your friend seems to be enjoying herself."
Lina's gaze snapped back inside. Across the room, Chrissy stood at the edge of a small circle, her emerald dress catching faint light as she laughed politely. Opposite her, a thin young man in a plain suit bent closer, his manner almost deferential. Too deferential.
"That one," Iker said softly, as if they were merely sharing gossip. "From Sector One. Father Esteban Reyes. A church envoy. I believe you've crossed paths with him before."
The words clawed under her skin. For a heartbeat, panic knifed through her—old memories, old rules about the Church's reach. Before she could think better of it, Lina moved.
Her arms shot out, blue filaments flaring beneath the synthskin as she slammed Iker against the balcony wall. The servos in her enhanced limbs whined softly as hydraulics locked, pinning him with mechanical precision. The champagne glass in his hand tipped, liquid spilling down his expensive suit.
"Listen carefully," she hissed, close enough that no one inside could see her lips move. "Leave Chrissy out of this. Whatever game you're playing with my father, don't touch her." The pressure increased slightly, hydraulics pulsing. "Or I'll make sure it's the last game you ever play."
To her frustration, Iker didn't struggle. His smile never faltered despite the pressure against his chest. If anything, a glint of satisfaction appeared in his eyes, as if her reaction had confirmed something.
"No need for dramatics," he said, voice steady despite his compromised position. "Chrissy looks perfectly at ease, doesn't she? You'll find most things are easier when we don't resist them."
As if to sharpen the sting, Father Reyes turned at that moment, his thin face brightening when he caught sight of them. His expression showed no concern at their position, only curiosity.
With deliberate slowness, Lina released her grip. The blue glow beneath her skin faded as she stepped back.
Iker straightened his jacket with casual precision, brushing away imaginary dust. "I only meant to wish you a pleasant evening." He gave a small, courtly bow, the kind meant for a ballroom rather than a balcony. "Enjoy yourself, signorina. I'm sure we'll speak again soon."
He slipped past her toward the light of the hall, leaving her with the unsettling feeling that she'd played directly into his hands.
Chrissy pushed back through the balcony doors, a fresh glass of champagne in hand. She still looked flushed, strands of hair clinging to her temple, but her smile carried a note of admiration. "You can't believe how kind that priest is," she said. "So soft-spoken. He even asked about my parents—whether the treatment was helping, if they were doing any better. Like he actually listens."
Lina's grip on the railing tightened until her knuckles blanched. The words hit her like ice, every muscle pulling tight. For a breath she couldn't even look at Chrissy. She had brought her here. Brought her into this.
And now she saw the shape of it clearly: Father Reyes hadn't been kind at all. He had come prepared, armed with details no stranger should know. He had done his homework.
When she finally turned, her face was set, too pale under the fractured crystal light. Chrissy blinked, frowning. "You don't look well. Do you want to go rest? We can slip away—"
"No." Lina's voice was sharper than she meant. She drew a slow breath, softening it just enough. "Come with me," Lina said, her tone clipped. "I'll take you back to the guest room myself. You can sit there for a while. Don't open the door to anyone until I return."
Chrissy hesitated, still puzzled, but Lina was already straightening her coat, the mask sliding back into place. "After that, I'll find my father," she added, quieter now, almost to herself.
Lina slipped an arm lightly around Chrissy's back, guiding her through the doors and into the quieter stretch of corridor beyond the hall. She didn't speak again until they reached the guest chamber, where she eased the latch shut after Chrissy stepped inside.
Only once she was certain the door had clicked into place did Lina turn away, her stride tightening with purpose. She had to make sure Chrissy stayed safe, no matter the price. Because right now, she had no idea how many enemies were walking under her own roof.