Never Too Late

[Oriena]

Not my problem, was the only reply Sage got. And he was lucky to get even that much from Ori. Nox could look after himself, and while she knew he burdened himself with the title of friend, and not just because they were fucking, she had never pretended reciprocation. When Jaxen disappeared off the face of the planet, Ori had never looked for him either. There wasn’t an ounce of sentimentality in her frigid heart.

She went anyway, of course.

By the time she got to the coordinates sent she was angry at her own internal reactions, and Nox was as likely to feel the brunt of her fury as whatever shitshow he’d managed to get himself tangled up in. The wheels of her motorcycle churned up the pristine lawn of the land around the secluded mansion. Power wreathed her like turbulent waves; she was in no mood for subtlety. Figures flitted outside the door in panicked flight, and there was a telling glow from within the building. Enhanced senses picked up the cloying stink of acrid smoke somewhere out of sight.

Leathers creaked as Ori got off the bike. She recognised one of the faces around the door, though didn’t have a name for him; pale and pretty, she’d seen him both at Almaz and Kallisti. The power snapped out as she headed for the door, wrapping him up and appling a warning pressure to his soft, swan-like neck. Anyone else who got too close would be sent flying like bowling pins.

“Where is he? Do yourself a favour and speak quickly, sweetheart.”