Chapter 1 The Crush and the Mechanic

The sky above Sector 9 was a cracked mirror of neon and smog, flickering with static from the failing weather shields. Celia wiped the grease from her hands with an old rag that used to be a T-shirt, then tossed it over her shoulder. Her day had already been long, filled with dead batteries, busted exhausts, and one particularly rude scavenger who tried to pay her with expired ration chips. Then the sky ripped open. The ship was sleek, silver, and spiraling toward the scrapyard like a drunken star. Celia stood frozen for exactly three seconds before her survival instincts kicked in.

She ducked behind the rusted frame of an old hover truck as the ship smashed into the ground just meters away, sending dust and sparks into the air. A high-pitched alarm echoed across the yard. The ship's door hissed open. Celia crept closer, wrench in hand. She was not about to be blown up by some rich-boy death trap. But when the smoke cleared, the figure that emerged was not a soldier or a scavenger. It was a guy. A stupidly tall guy in a tailored coat that probably cost more than her entire shop. His hair was perfectly tousled, and his expression? Dazed and slightly annoyed. "Ugh," he groaned. "That landing was suboptimal." Celia blinked. "Suboptimal? You nearly took out half my yard, you fancy space clown!" He looked around, as if noticing his surroundings for the first time. His nose wrinkled. "Where... am I?" "Lower Nine," she said, arms crossed. "Home of the unwanted, the unwashed, and now, apparently, crash-landed morons." He coughed. "I'm Lawrence. Lawrence Everen." Celia narrowed her eyes. Everen? As in the Everens who ran the entire upper-tier tech grid? "Well, Lawrence," she said, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him toward her garage, "if you want to survive more than an hour down here, you're going to need a lot more than good cheekbones." And just like that, the mechanic and the elite were tangled in something neither of them understood yet-but the sparks had already started to fly. Oil, Secrets, and a Bloody Nose; Lawrence Everen sat on the edge of Celia's workbench, blinking as she dabbed a cold cloth to the side of his face. His once-immaculate coat had been thrown into a pile, revealing a black shirt stained with smoke and what might've been designer embarrassment. "You're lucky your face didn't break the windshield," Celia muttered, shaking her head. "Trust me," Lawrence said through clenched teeth, "the windshield's loss would have been far greater." She rolled her eyes. "Is this what passes for flirting in the upper tiers?" He smirked, then winced when she pressed the cloth harder. "You're not my type," she added quickly. "I prefer people who don't almost kill me with their falling spaceships." "You fixed the wiring on a power converter with a hairpin," he said, studying her. "That's not just impressive-it's borderline illegal. Where'd you learn that?" Celia froze for a second. "Around." It wasn't a lie. It just wasn't the whole truth. The truth was, she used to be a student in one of the tech academies up top-before her father was framed and "relocated" for crimes he didn't commit. Since then, her education came from survival, junkyards, and slicing into forbidden tech when no one was watching. "I've read about the lower levels," Lawrence said, interrupting her thoughts. "But I never imagined they were this... real." She raised an eyebrow. "What, did you think we lived in alleyways and hiss at sunlight?" "No," he said, chuckling. "But I didn't expect anyone to be so... sharp." He wasn't wrong, and Celia wasn't about to let him get comfortable. "You Everens think you built the world," she said, tossing the bloody cloth aside. "But we're the ones keeping it alive down here. With scrap. And spit. And duct tape." Lawrence's smile faded. For a second, she saw something flicker in his eyes-guilt? "Celia," he said carefully, "I didn't choose to be born an Everen." She tilted her head. "No. But what you do with it? That's on you." Before he could reply, a loud thud echoed from outside. Celia grabbed her wrench again and motioned for silence. Her eyes narrowed. "Was anyone following you?" Lawrence swallowed. "Depends. How mad do bounty hunters get when you steal a prototype engine from your father's vault?" Celia blinked. Then sighed. "Oh, great. You didn't just fall from the sky-you brought hell with you."

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Contents

Chapter 1 The Crush and the Mechanic

Other books by Gloriaa

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