Shattered Illusions

"Syndicate Enforcers! Nobody move!"

The harsh, metallic bark of an Enforcer megaphone echoed over the screams of the gala attendees inside. Elara spun around, Julian’s jacket slipping from her shoulders.

Through the ruined doorway, she saw the ballroom descending into chaos. Dozens of Enforcers, clad in heavy, steam-powered armor plating and wielding repeating aether-rifles, were storming the floor. Guests were diving behind banquet tables.

Julian cursed violently, a sound of pure venom. He grabbed Elara by the wrist and yanked her down behind a massive stone planter just as a beam of blue aether-energy scorched the air where they had been standing seconds before, burning a hole through the balcony railing.

"They tracked me," Julian hissed, drawing the heavy revolver from his shoulder holster—a holster he had apparently been wearing concealed under his suit jacket the entire night.

Elara stared at the weapon, then at him. The romantic fog of the kiss instantly evaporated, replaced by a freezing, sickening realization.

She looked at the heavy leather aviator coat Julian had abandoned on a chair inside the ballroom near the doors. She remembered how carefully he had set it down. She remembered how bulky it had looked.

"You," Elara breathed, her voice trembling. "Julian, what did you bring into this building?"

Julian refused to meet her eyes, checking the cylinder of his revolver. "Military-grade aether-drives. Six of them. Enough to power the rebel fleet for a year."

Elara felt the blood drain from her face. "You smuggled stolen Syndicate tech into the most heavily guarded gala in the city?"

"It was the only way!" Julian snapped, his eyes wild with adrenaline and guilt. "The security for the party is designed to keep the poor out, not scan the rich coming in! It was a blind spot. I had to use it."

"You used *me*," she whispered. The betrayal sliced through her deeper than any blade. "You needed Silas's clean record. But he wasn't there. So you used me. The clean, invisible mechanic. I was your cover."

"No!" Julian grabbed her shoulders, shaking her slightly. "Elara, look at me. The mission was the mission, but I swear to the sky, my feelings for you are real. I didn't want you in danger."

"Well, you put me here!" she screamed over the sound of breaking glass.

"There he is! The balcony!" an Enforcer shouted from the ballroom.

"We have to move," Julian barked. The corsair was back—cold, calculating, and deadly. "Now!"