I tear my eyes away from her as footsteps approach. Keeping the gun pressed to her head, I step behind Shey. My hands are shaking, my stomach churning. This is it. I’m risking everything right now. But this is the only option I have—the only way to save my brother.

Leonis steps into the warehouse alone, like I asked, but I don’t lower my weapon. The president is a smart woman, and I don’t doubt that she has some sort of trick up her sleeve, plus at least a dozen of her officers ready to barge in on a moment’s notice. My own family should be here any minute now, too.

Hands clasped behind her back, Leonis stops in the middle of the room and regards me with thinly veiled distaste—like I’m a minor inconvenience rather than a real threat.

“I suppose your mother didn’t survive, or there would be no need for all this,” she says in her smooth politician’s voice, empty of emotion. “Last I checked, you were running a job for me. If you wanted to speak, a comm call would have sufficed.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and instead nod at the blaster.

“Let’s call it insurance.”

Leonis scrutinizes me, her eyes narrowing.

“Stars above, you’re drunk, aren’t you?” she asks, her voice heavy with contempt. “This is ridiculous. If I wanted you dead, my guards would have taken you out before you saw them coming. Put the gun down and let’s talk.”

“Not that easy, though, is it? You’re not going to kill me. Not unless you want the whole system hearing what my family knows.” I glance at Shey, wondering if she’s aware of her mother’s plan. She keeps her eyes downcast, and her expression betrays nothing. Would she have condoned the massacre on Titan? I hope not—but that’s not what I should be worrying about right now. “And not unless you want us handing over the evidence.”

“Evidence?” Leonis asks.

“Oh, you know, those pretty little vials? Sending five was a bit excessive. We’ve still got one—”

An elbow to the stomach steals the rest of my breath. I stumble backward. Shey doesn’t even give me time to consider pulling the trigger of my blaster before she hits me in the jaw and follows it up with a swift disarming. I gape at her, winded and stinging, as she aims my own gun at my face.

“Wow,” I mutter, head spinning, unable to help but be impressed. She gives me a smug look, annoyingly similar to the one her mother is wearing, and yanks the scarf out of her mouth with her free hand.

“Hands behind your head,” she orders, and I slowly move to obey.

“Well done, honey,” Leonis says to her daughter in a surprisingly warm voice. “Are you all right?”