I manage an actual laugh at the look on Izra’s face. She reaches forward to twist the blade again, but instead lets her fingers come to a rest on the tip of it.

“Talk,” she says.

Finally. Something I’m good at.

Izra marches me to the cockpit with her gun arm pressed against my spine. It’s really not necessary, given the blade still stuck in my shoulder making every step utter agony; I wouldn’t make it far if I tried to run. But I suspect she’s enjoying herself.

She forces me into the cockpit. If not for the excruciating pain and the situation, I would probably take a moment to admire the Red Baron’s awe-inspiring expanse of screens and buttons. Orion is seated in one of the two pilot’s chairs. He whirls to face us, and I catch a flash of worry before he schools his face into neutrality.

“What the hell is she doing here?” he asks, standing. His eyes linger on the blade through my shoulder. “And what’d you do? Didn’t I make it clear I want to handle her myself?”

Izra shoves me forward. I stumble two steps before my knees buckle beneath me. Orion catches me before I hit the floor, his arms holding me up as I sag against him. Izra makes a low sound of disgust.

“I should have known,” she says.

“It’s not what you think.” Despite the words, Orion doesn’t let go of me—so I both hear and feel the way his breath hitches. I turn my head to see Izra’s gun now leveled at him. Her eye shimmers with unshed tears.

“I trusted you,” she says through gritted teeth. “You and your father.”

“Izra,” Orion says slowly, “I’m not sure what my father has to do with it, but I had no idea you would take this so personally. Honestly, she means nothing.”

“Not her, you idiot!” Izra shouts, before I can figure out what the hell is happening right now. “I’m talking about the cargo.”

“Oh?” Orion sounds almost disappointed. “What about the cargo?”

“Orion,” I butt in, desperate to save this mess of a conversation. Stars, these pirates are even worse at communication than my family is. “Do you know what you’re transporting?” I raise my eyes to his, silently begging him to say no, even if it’s not the truth. I’d really rather not have this end with both of us getting shot.

Orion looks down at me, his forehead creased.

“Those little shimmering vials? Some sort of alien tech, I assume. I mean, my dad showed them to me, but…” He frowns. “What is this about?”

Izra’s gun is still aimed at him, her scarred face contorted with rage. I almost speak up, but her finger twitches and I hold my tongue.

“And did he tell you what happened on Titan?” she asks.