I tilted my head toward the glass in front of Zara, flashing her an easy smile. “Pick up the glass. Take a drink. Easy enough, right?”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  But she reached for the glass anyway.

  Her fingers wrapped around it—

  And stopped.

  The glass wouldn’t budge.

  Her grip tightened, knuckles whitening as she pulled.

  Nothing.

  It was as it was glued to the table.

  Her expression shifted.

  Irritation. Confusion. Then something sharper.

  Her gaze flickered between me and the unmoving glass.

  For the first time, the slightest hint of fear crept into her eyes.

  I kept my fingers resting on the table, smiling as I watched her wrestle with something that should have been effortless.

  Finally, she looked up at me, jaw clenched.

  Eyes wary.

  “Nice try,” I said softly, not breaking eye contact. “But like I said, you couldn’t pull the trigger if I didn’t want you to.”

  Zara’s hand dropped from the glass.

  Her expression shifted as she finally took in what I’d just done.

  She swallowed, glancing at the unmoved glass, then back at me—something like recognition flickering in her eyes.

  “I’ve… heard there were people capable of things like that,” she murmured, her voice lower now, almost reverent. “But I’ve never actually met one.”

  I leaned back, letting the hint of a smile tug at the corner of my mouth.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Now you have.”

  She studied me for a moment longer, eyes wide, the sharp edges of her expression softening.

  She knew now—if I wanted to, I could crush her.

  Or worse.

  But I didn’t.

  And that small act of restraint seemed to be enough.

  A barmaid sauntered over, balancing a tray on one hip.

  Tall. Curvy.

  Her low-cut shirt did most of the talking.

  She gave me a long look, then glanced at Zara, probably sizing up whether I was trouble or a decent tip.

  “Another round?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  I nodded, pulling out a few physical credits—metallic chits that flashed faintly under the dim lights.

  Out here, digital credits wouldn’t get you far.

  People preferred something they could feel in their hands.

  Untraceable.

  The kind of payment that wouldn’t raise questions later.

  She gave the chits a quick, practiced glance, her thumb brushing over each one to check for the faint holographic stamp that marked them as genuine.

  Satisfied, she pocketed them with a small nod and a smirk, then disappeared into the smoky haze of the bar.

  Zara’s eyes followed the exchange, a knowing look settling over her face. “Good choice, I wouldn’t trust this place’s scanner either.”

  Zara watched her leave, then turned back to me, the last of her wariness replaced by something heavier. “Look, Astra’s not here.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s… been taken.”

  “Taken? By who?”

  Her face tightened.

  “The Black Nebula Cartel.”

  She traced a finger along the rim of her empty glass, choosing her words carefully.

  “They’re a syndicate. One of the worst. Kidnapping, black-market deals, putting people to work on missions they don’t come back from. If they want you, they’ll find you.”

  She exhaled sharply. “And they found her.”

  I gave a slow, curt nod.

  The Black Nebula Cartel was known galaxy-wide.

  I’d had my own run-ins with them.

  None I wanted to experience in person.

  “They’ve got her working a mission,” Zara continued, her voice strained. “Something she can’t get out of alive.”

  I kept my expression steady. “I see.”

  Zara’s voice faltered.

  A flicker of hesitation broke through her guarded tone.

  “Astra’s always taken risks. Always thought she’d come out on top. She never understood… some things, you don’t walk away from.”

  Her grip tightened on her glass.

  “They think she was behind a major crimson dust heist.”

  “That’s not good.”

  My mind raced.

  Could this have something to do with the stuff I was hauling?

  Zara glanced away, just for a second.

  “The cartel’s keeping tabs on me. I’d barely get close.”

  Her gaze flicked back, sharp and guarded.

  “To be honest, I thought you were with them at first.”

  It clicked.

  “So you’re hoping I’ll do it.”

  If this did have to do with the dust in my cargo hold, then I didn’t have much of a choice.

  I’d need to get involved whether Zara wanted me to or not.

  As we spoke, movement at the far side of the bar caught my eye.

  Two hulking figures locked their gaze on us.

  Both wearing the Black Nebula insignia—a dark metal badge shaped like a fractured star encircled by a coiled serpent, its ruby eyes gleaming.

  I muttered under my breath.

  “Uh… I think we’ve got company.”

  Zara glanced over her shoulder, her face twisting into a scowl.

  “Cartel mercs. Damn it.”

  She cursed quietly, then looked back at me.

  “We need to get out of here.”