The airfield was still buzzing when we landed. Engines roared, ground crews shouted over the noise, and the smell of fuel clung to the air like grease. We'd made it back—shipment delivered, credits exchanged, another job in the books.
Renn stood off to the side with her usual casual confidence, cigarette burning between her fingers. Her coat was dusty from the trip, boots scuffed from running crates, but her grin stayed sharp as ever. She let the smoke curl out in a lazy stream, then flicked the butt to the ground with a snap of her fingers.
"So I guess that's you guys done," she said. Her tone was light, but not empty. "It was fun working with you."
For her, that counted as high praise. Renn didn't toss "fun" around unless she meant it.
Before I could answer, Tara appeared. She cut through the clamor of the field with the kind of presence that turned heads without trying. Jacket zipped, hair tied back, eyes sharp. She always looked like she'd stepped straight from a debriefing. Word had traveled fast about our return.
She glanced from Matt to me, then at the Omen Trading crew still stowing gear near the plane. Her expression stayed neutral, but I could tell she was calculating—Tara never wasted an observation.
"Efficient," she said. "Didn't think you'd wrap it up so quickly."
I cleared my throat, standing straighter like I was about to give a presentation. "Hey, Tara. This is Omen Trading. They do jobs in the Free City, and they can be very beneficial for Zone Alpha." My voice came out flat, like I'd rehearsed the pitch.
Matt side-eyed me, probably thinking I sounded like I was running a PowerPoint in the middle of the tarmac.
Tara arched a brow but didn't laugh. "Interesting," she said. "I'll keep them in mind."
Renn gave one last smirk, shouldered her bag, and climbed onto the waiting plane. No drawn-out goodbye. Just a wave and the engines roaring back to life. The Omen employees followed her in, silhouettes swallowed by the ramp.
Matt and I stood there, watching the plane taxi and lift, its lights shrinking against the horizon until the sky reclaimed it. A chapter closed as quietly as it had opened.
The silence that followed carried weight. We'd worked with Renn, bled through jobs, walked streets where names didn't matter. And now it was done, just like that.
Matt exhaled, shaking himself free of the stillness. "Come on," he said, hands stuffed into his pockets. "Let's head back. You can crash at my place tonight."
I didn't argue. The day had left me hollow.
We left the airfield and cut through the streets of Zone Alpha. Evening had draped itself over the city, neon bleeding into the dark. The food stalls were closing up, but the alleys stayed restless, hawkers whispering deals, kids chasing shadows between buildings, the hum of Resonants threading through it all.
Matt kept talking as we walked, his voice filling the gaps where mine couldn't. "We've been looking for a third," he said. "Rent's not bad, and it beats bouncing around. You'd fit."
I didn't answer right away. The thought of moving in, of building something resembling stability, felt foreign. I wasn't sure I could live like that.
Matt noticed the silence but didn't press. He just gave a short shrug. "Think about it. Door's open."
We walked on, the noise of the city thinning as the streets narrowed. Old apartments replaced glass towers, balconies lined with laundry and flickering lamps. It smelled of rain-soaked stone and the faint bitterness of burning oil.
Finally, Matt stopped in front of a squat building, its windows stacked in uneven rows. The security lamp above the door buzzed faintly, casting a pale cone of light.
He looked up at it with something like relief. "Here we are. Our porch"
I froze on the sidewalk.
The sight hit me harder than I expected. The door. The step.
The same apartment.
The same threshold where Forn had left me once, dropped like baggage no one wanted to claim. I could still feel the weight of that moment pressing into my chest, the silence after the door shut heavier than any wound.
Now, standing here again, it felt like the past had caught up. Like I'd been circling the city only to end up back at the same doorstep.
Matt didn't notice. He was already digging for his keys, unlocking the door with the ease of routine. The hinges creaked as he pushed it open.
"You coming?" he called back, voice echoing faintly up the stairwell.
I hesitated, staring at the threshold. The air felt colder here, memory seeping into the present. Part of me wanted to turn, to walk back into the night and leave it all behind. But my legs didn't move.
I took a breath and stepped forward.
The door swallowed me in, and with it, the weight of everything Forn had left behind.
This wasn't just where I'd been abandoned. It was where I was being asked to stay.
Maybe, for once, it could mean something different.