Elara jammed the last spark crystal into her satchel, brushing stray ash from her fingers as she zipped it closed. Her apartment smelled faintly of burnt ozone—a lingering souvenir from the Sparkjaws she’d gutted during her last raid. The creatures were hell to fight, but the payoff was worth it. Z really seemed like he went out of his way to make her difficult.

She slung the bag over her shoulder before opening her door.

Her phone buzzed from her back pocket. The screen flashed with an unknown number. She hesitated for a second but answered anyway.

“Elara Max,” she said curtly.

“Miss Max,” came a smooth, authoritative voice. “This is Gio, Guild Leader of the Crystal Guild. I’d like to discuss an—”

She scoffed and almost hung up. “Not interested.”

“Wait.” His voice sharpened, commanding enough to stop her thumb mid-swipe. “Before you hang up, you’ll want to hear what I’m offering for the limited contract request.”

Elara paused. She needed to get signed with a guild to enter the next raid and the Crystal Guild was notoriously wealthy—too wealthy to bother with subtlety. She frowned, but curiosity held her. “I’m listening.”

“A $15,000 commission fee,” Gio began, his tone smug. “No tracker, allowing you full clearance to solo the raid as you please. And you keep all monster spoils collected.”

“Sounds too good to be true.”

After all he’s heard about her, Gio knew she wasn’t going to accept so easily. “There’s one prerequisite. You’ll need to meet with a representative for vetting.”

She slammed the door behind her, making her way down the stairs. “Vetting?”

“You’ll know when you meet them,” he replied, his tone evasive.

Elara rolled her eyes. Probably a test of some kind. Though he should already be well aware of my abilities.

“Miss Max?” A shadow of nervous anticipation couldn’t be hidden from his voice when she stayed silent.

She mulled it over, tapping her fingers against her thigh. The deal was solid, and the money alone was enough to make her salivate. Still, trust wasn’t exactly her default setting. “Fine. Send me the details for the meeting. And this representative better not be that useless blockhead you sent last time.”

Gio chuckled. “He’s not.”

She hung up, sliding her phone into her pocket wondering why he’d sounded so smug and assured with his last comment.

Z’s lab smelled like burnt metal and singed hair—a symphony of chaos that suited its eccentric owner. Elara stepped inside, wrinkling her nose as sparks flew from a cluttered workbench.

“Ah, my favorite Raider!” Z greeted, grinning as he bounded over. His light brown hair brushed across his forehead, his lab coat barely clinging to the definition of clean. Despite being two years older than her, his eyes had a boyish mischievousness that kept her on her toes. 

She shoved him away as he tried to drape an arm over her shoulder, a practiced motion that didn’t even make him flinch. “I’ve got your crystals.”

Z’s eyes lit up as she dropped the bag onto the nearest table. He immediately started rifling through it, pulling out the jagged spark stones with a reverence usually reserved for priceless artifacts. “Beautiful. Absolutely stunning. You’re faster and more efficient than anyone else I’ve worked with.”

Elara crossed her arms, smirking. “Yeah, yeah. Keep buttering me up. Just tell me the Brass Doomwing feathers are the last thing you need.”

He shot her a cheeky grin. “Cross my heart.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I mean it, Z. If you send me on another errand, I’ll be back for your head.”

“Relax, angel,” he said, holding up a hand. “The feathers are it. And you don’t even have to bother with the core—it’s weak enough that one of the other Raiders can handle it.”

Z reached under his bench and tossed her a sleek black weapon. The thing hummed faintly in her hand, its design as sharp and dangerous as the man who made it.

“Here,” he said. “It won’t destroy the Doomwings outright, but it’ll stun them long enough for you to break their necks. You know, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

Elara twirled the weapon, feeling its weight. “Weird way of apologizing for all the Sparkjaw guts I had to wade through, but thanks.”

He gave her a crooked smile, leaning casually against the bench. “Who said I was apologizing?”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t press, tucking the weapon into her belt. “Try not to blow yourself up before I get back.”

The lab was quiet again after she left, the hum of machinery filling the space. Z leaned back in his chair, staring at the bag of crystals.

“It wasn’t an apology,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.

But even he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince after so long.