Ezra lay in his bed, eyes closed under his sheets, waiting for midnight. He was looking for the shift change—a blind spot in the rotation where he could leave and go unnoticed. As the hours went by, Ezra kept opening his eyes and glancing toward the window, waiting in anticipation. Every time his eyes opened, it wasn’t time, and he began to grow impatient. He couldn’t settle; he tossed and turned for the next hour.

  Finally, when Ezra’s eyes opened once more and he glanced at the window, he saw it: the Mudesa at its highest peak. Midnight had arrived.

  He threw back his sheets in excitement, rolled out of bed, and pulled on his clothes. He began to walk toward the door, and that’s when he heard the mumbling of voices outside his room. His eyes squinted, his ears perked up, and as he got closer, he heard the last thing he expected: soldiers patrolling his hall. He took a few gentle steps until he reached his bedroom door, then pressed his ear gently against it.

  The guards were talking amongst each other, angry about working a double shift due to a raid on Qeight. Mike, the shortest of the guards and the one who always had something to say, kicked his leg back against the wall and shook his head.

  “What is this? La Mort treats us like slaves. Double shifts and we’re meant to patrol these halls with a smile on our faces like everything’s okay? I’ve been on patrol duty all week.”

  “That makes two of us,” Marzer noted, placing a gentle hand on Mike’s shoulder. “But I’d heed you to watch your tongue, old friend.”

  “Or what? What are you going to do, Marzer—report me to the King?” Mike laughed through gritted teeth.

  Marzer slowly released his hand and scoffed. “One who is quick to anger is quick to make mistakes and fail to understand their surroundings.”

  The group looked on, confused, as one of the soldiers scratched his head.

  “What are you trying to say, Marzer?” asked Julian, the youngest member of the group. Everyone questioned how he was still alive with a King like La Mort and a Prince like Cane—both of whom had such short fuses.

  “I guess I’ll have to spell it out for all of you since you all can’t see the writing on the wall. We’re right outside where Prince Ezra lays his head, yet we speak ill of his father.” Marzer took a step back and spun around in a three-sixty. “And before you say Prince Ezra doesn’t bother with his father’s affairs, need I remind you that in times of need, family always sticks together.”

  “But Marzer,” Errol chimed in. “Not all family sticks together. Sometimes water is thicker than blood, and in Ezra’s case, I think that’s exactly what’s going on.”

  Errol was the gentle giant, the helping hand, but everyone knew he had a nasty side that only a handful had ever seen.

  Marzer chuckled lightly. “Then answer me this—if you made any attempt on La Mort’s life and failed, would you still be alive this night to tell the tale?”

  Errol’s head hung low. “No, but—”

  “No ‘buts,’ Errol. You know it. I know it. We would all be six feet under if we were in Ezra’s shoes. Hell, even Cane advocated for his brother. Ezra may not like what his father does, but he loves him. And he loves his brother. Never forget your place in this cycle of chaos, or you all might just end up dead like the rest.”

  Mike took a huge gulp, a sound loud enough that all the parties heard it clearly. Sweat began to drip into his eyes, making them burn. There was no hiding the fear etched into every crevice of his face. He lifted his forearm and, in one fell swoop, wiped the sweat away.

  “Marzer’s right,” Mike said through trembling lips. “We don’t know who’s listening and who’s willing to report back to La Mort to gain favor.”

  The guards continued to patrol the hall in silence, up and down, a routine they had done thousands of times before. Ezra, on the other hand, began to panic. He peeled his face away from the door and his heart began to beat out of control. His hand reached down, fingers curling around the handle. He paused for a moment.

  This is it. If I do this, there’s no going back. What am I saying? I’ve waited for this moment my whole entire life. He gently pried the door open just enough to see how many guards there were. Four guards. How am I going to get out of here unnoticed? Ezra became frustrated, watching them and racking his brain until it came to him. Closing his eyes, he focused his energy. Small sparks of electricity crackled off his skin, short-circuiting the lights and engulfing the hall in complete darkness.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “Now’s my chance,” Ezra whispered. He opened the door just enough to slip through and began to sneak down the hall.

  “What’s going on? What happened to the lights? We’re blind here!” Mike shouted, clutching his firearm with both hands.

  “I don’t know,” Marzer replied calmly. “One of you three go... now! Sound the alarm! We could be under attack.”

  All four men were on high alert. Nothing like this had ever happened before.

  “I’ll go!” shouted Mike.

  Argh, this isn’t good, Ezra thought. I need to take them out before he ruins everything.

  Ezra moved swiftly. Sneaking behind Julian, he delivered a sharp chop to the back of the throat. Julian released a sharp gasp. As his body hit the floor, the other guards grabbed their weapons and aimed into the void.

  “Errol, you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here,” he responded. “Mike?”

  Before Mike could respond, Ezra shot past the group, the wind caressing their cheeks. Stopping mere centimeters from Mike’s face, Ezra let his overwhelming presence be felt. Mike went to open his mouth, but he froze; the words wouldn’t come out.

  “I’m sorry,” Ezra whispered, low enough that only he could hear. He brought his hands inward, chopping the guard's throat. As the body dropped, Ezra caught it and gently laid it on the floor.

  “Mike? Mike!” shouted Marzer. “Listen... if this is some stupid game, this is not the time! I wasn’t trying to show you up earlier; I was looking out for our best interests!”

  Hnk—

  There it was again. The sound sent Marzer’s heart into overdrive. He activated the thermal sensors in his visor, seeing bodies scattered across the floor. He backed against the wall in a panic and began firing blindly in every direction until his breathing was ragged. When he turned, his vision went dark. Ezra, with his hand covering the visor, pressed Marzer’s head against the wall and unleashed a barrage of strikes until the body went limp.

  “That was way too close,” Ezra muttered, continuing toward the ship hangar.

  He moved swiftly, making the shadows his ally, narrowly evading guards at each turn until he reached the large metal doors. He took a calming breath and stepped forward. The hangar was vast, housing his ship—a masterpiece of twin peaks, white plating, and alien tech.

  He hid behind a stack of brown boxes. He wasn’t alone. Two guards with food in their hands came from behind his ship.

  “Did you hear that?” the smaller one asked.

  “No,” the taller guard responded. “You’re hearing things. I didn’t eat your food.”

  “Well, explain to me how it disappeared then? Only you and I knew where it was.”

  “Food can be found anywhere, man. Look at me: narrow, thin, and tall. Then look at yourself: overweight, short, and your hair is almost gone.”

  “Wow. That was low, even for you.”

  Ezra sat behind the boxes, shaking his head. He had heard enough. He rose to his feet and walked toward them. Both men jumped out of their skins.

  “I didn’t see you there, Ezra,” the shorter guard said, breathing heavily. “What are you doing down here? And secondly—I told you there was someone here!”

  “Clearly not.”

  The smaller guard turned to his comrade. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing at all.”

  “Guys, I don’t have time for your squabbles,” Ezra interrupted. “I just couldn’t sleep, so I decided to take a walk. When I was wandering the halls, it dawned on me—my ship.”

  “Your ship?” the smaller guard said, teeth grinding. “I’m sorry, Ezra, but as much as I want to allow you to take it, no can do tonight. Strict orders. No ships in or out. La Mort’s orders.”

  Ezra was a man on a mission. “All I ask is that you allow me to take my ship out to clear my head. I’ll have it back in no time. My father won’t even know it was gone.”

  The taller guard stepped forward, trying to exude confidence though his body shook. “I’m sorry, Ezra, we can’t risk it. You know how ruthless your father is.”

  Ezra took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, locking eyes with the guard. “You’re right,” he replied calmly. “And I’m sorry in advance.”

  “What?” the guard muttered.

  Before he could react, Ezra struck his throat, sending him flying back into the wall.

  “Listen, Ezra, you got this, man!” the remaining guard said, shaking uncontrollably. “You can go. My lips are sealed! Just have it back before sunrise—please.”

  Ezra walked over and placed his palm on top of the guard’s head, rubbing it gently. The guard breathed a sigh of relief. “You had me there for a second. I thought you were going to hurt me like you did him.”

  Ezra’s eyes closed in sorrow. He knew the guard feared La Mort more than he would ever fear Ezra. If he “let” Ezra go, he would be executed. Ezra’s hand slipped down and struck with an open palm to the throat, knocking him unconscious for his own protection. He placed the man down gently out of the way.

  His ship ramp was open, almost as if it were calling him. He took a moment, centering his thoughts, then walked up the ramp. He flicked the ship's lights on before sitting down and powering it up.

  As he sat there, comfortable in his seat, he began to feel the warm sensation of his nerves creep to the center of his chest. He had felt nerves before, but to Ezra, this felt like foreign territory. He steadied himself and looked down at the console deck. A small rectangular panel began to glow, reflecting green light on his face as words spread across the screen:

  ENTER COORDINATES

  Ezra’s fingers hovered over the console as he entered the code: 675892. He pressed enter. The ship responded in kind. Auto-pilot activated. Destination located.

  PLANET: EARTH

  APPROXIMATE TIME UNTIL ARRIVAL: 72 HOURS

  Ezra sat back as his ship pulled out and stormed down the runway. The thrusters activated, the wheels retracted, and the ship shot through the hangar doors and into the distance.

  He was gone. There was no turning back now. For the first time in his life, he put himself first. Not the people, not his father, nor his brother.

  Himself.