The door creaked open. Raiga stepped into the penthouse with his usual silent presence, but something about him felt heavier—his movements slower, his eyes distant.

Liara turned from the workbench the moment she heard him. Her heart tightened when she saw the tension in his face.

Liara: "Hey... How did it go?"

Raiga let out a slow, tired breath.

Raiga: "He knows about the convoy."

Liara's stomach dropped.

Liara: "What? He's after it too?"

Raiga sat down on the edge of the cot, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

Raiga: "Not just after it. He wants me to take it... for him."

Liara paced across the room, hands in her hair.

Liara: "That bastard... He's playing you. He knows exactly what that cargo is."

Raiga: "I know."

Liara: "And? What did you say?"

Raiga: "Nothing yet. He's giving me time to think. Says it's my 'last job'- enough credits to walk away for good. Clear every debt."

Liara sat down across from him, her face a mix of frustration and concern.

Liara: "So, what's the play now?"

Raiga rubbed his eyes, his head pounding from the weight of everything closing in.

Raiga: "I don't know... he's already made his move. He wants me to take it. He's already put a lock on the market. Even if we pull it off... we've got nowhere to sell."

Liara pressed her lips together, pacing near the table.

Liara: "He's cornering you. Us. Just like always."

Raiga: "Feels like he's known about this before we even did. Like we're just following his lead without knowing it. And now... if I say no, I stay under his heel. If I say yes..."

Liara: "You're doing his dirty work. Again."

Raiga: "Yeah. And I don't even have the luxury of being surprised anymore."

The room fell quiet for a moment, the hum of the city outside the only sound. Liara stopped pacing and looked directly at him.

Liara: "So what now? What's the move?"

Raiga's eyes were distant, his thoughts swirling too fast to settle.

Raiga: "Call Garret."

Liara hesitated for a second, seeing how far gone his thoughts were, then grabbed the comm and started dialing.

———

Garret answered fast, like he'd been sitting with the comm in his hand, waiting for this moment.

Garret: "Talk to me."

Liara glanced back at Raiga, who sat motionless, staring through the floor.

Liara: "Garret... Barren knows about the convoy. He's already made a move."

A sharp intake of breath echoed through the comm.

Garret: "How the hell does he—?"

(He cut himself off, voice rising.)

"Let me guess. He wants Raiga to pull the job for him."

Raiga stood up, snatching the comm from Liara's hand.

Raiga: "Yeah. And before you start, don't bother acting surprised. He's offering enough to clear everything. Clean slate. One job, and I'm free."

Garret let out a bitter, humorless laugh.

Garret: "You think he'll really let you walk? Just like that? After everything you've done for him? After what you are to him?"

Raiga: "So what, Garret?! What the hell do you want me to do? You think there's some fairy-tale ending waiting for us?!"

Garret: "No, but I'm not stupid enough to think he's handing you your future on a silver platter either! You really believe he'll let you and Liara disappear with that much heat on your backs?"

Raiga's fists curled tight, pacing the room like a caged animal. His voice dropped low, dark.

Raiga: "You got a better idea? Because all I see is a man talking big with nothing in his damn hands."

Garret: "Yeah, I got an idea. You hit that convoy, but you don't crawl back to Barren like some whipped dog begging for scraps. You vanish. Before he closes the net around you."

Raiga: "And sell the cargo to who, Garret?! You think there's some mystery buyer sitting around waiting for three fugitives to walk in with Dominion-grade fragments? Without Barren's network, that cargo's worthless."

Liara: "Would you two stop?! This isn't about who's right—it's about what we're willing to risk! We either die here broke and under his control, or we take the chance and run!"

Garret: "She's right. You want to sit around calculating odds until it's too late? That's fine. But don't lie to yourself, Raiga. Barren already owns you."

Raiga pressed his hand to his face, his breathing heavy. The storm inside his head showed in every tense line of his body.

Garret: "You've got two options, kid. Finish this and run... or stay right where you are and rot. But don't drag her down with you trying to figure it out."

A long, agonizing silence.

Finally, Raiga's voice came low, full of that reluctant, dangerous clarity.

Raiga: "We hit the convoy. And then... we disappear."

Garret: "That's more like it."

The line cut. Silence hung heavy.

Raiga sat on the edge of the cot, elbows resting on his knees, his head low. His hands trembled faintly, knuckles white against the tension locked in his fists.

Liara crouched down in front of him, her eyes searching his face, seeing past the stone walls he always kept up.

Liara: "Hey... look at me."

Raiga didn't. His jaw clenched harder, breath shallow.

Raiga: "What if we can't pull this off, Liara? What if this is just another dream we're too damn late to catch?"

Liara reached out, her hands sliding over his, forcing his fists to relax. Her voice was gentle, but the steel in it left no room for doubt.

Liara: "Raiga... when have we ever waited for dreams to come to us? You didn't survive all this because you were lucky. You survived because no one, no one, can stand against you when you choose to fight."

She squeezed his hands tighter, her eyes glinting with a fire that refused to die.

Liara: "And you're not doing this alone. You've got me. You've got Garret. Hell, you've even got that stupid look you do when you think you're unbeatable. Use it."

Raiga finally looked at her. And for a moment, under all the weight, all the fear... a spark returned. The faintest ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Raiga: "We finish this."

Liara stood and extended her hand, her lips curling into a familiar, mischievous smirk.

Liara: "Then get up, soldier. We've got a convoy to hit."

Raiga took her hand and rose to his feet, the weight in his chest lifting with every breath.

They didn't waste words after that.

The air in the penthouse shifted, charged with unspoken resolve as they moved.

Cases unlocked. Weapons checked.

Armor laid out. Tactical overlays flickered to life.

They worked in perfect sync, every glance a silent command, every movement a practiced promise.

By the time they finished, the table was lined with the tools of war—and the air hung heavy with the weight of what was coming.

Tomorrow... everything would change.