Private Welcome back to the fire Pt.1

[Sommer Dai]

They sat there a moment, the silence surprisingly companionable.

Then Sommer spoke, quieter this time.

"I just needed to walk the floor."

 

[Arq*]

"Re-grounding," Arq nodded. "It's a thing. You left blood in another city and now you're retracing steps to make sure this world still holds."

He sipped his drink. "I'm not always dramatic. Sometimes I'm… annoyingly accurate."

 

[Sommer Dai]

She chuckled. Barely.


Then----- "He didn't say it back."

 

[Arq*]

Arq's expression softened. "Andrew."

 

[Sommer Dai]

She nodded.

"During the party," she continued, voice low. "He showed up. Cleaned up. Handsome as hell, of course. Said something about protecting me. Like he always does."

She paused.

"But not the words."

 

[Arq*]

Arq tilted his head. "And what words were you hoping for, darling?"

 

[Sommer Dai]

She looked down at her drink, swirling it slowly.

"I love you."

There it was. Ungilded. Unspoken for weeks.
Spoken now — because Arq was the one person she didn't have to perform for.

 

[Arq*]

He sighed and rested his chin in his palm. "Andrew Lonek — the galaxy's favorite savior in a custom-built skin. That man would throw himself into a collapsing star if it meant saving someone who already learned how to survive it on their own."

"He sees you as something precious," Arq continued, "but fragile. Something he needs to protect, not partner with."

 

[Sommer Dai]

"He's not wrong," she said softly. "I wasn't always… this."

 

[Arq*]

"No one is always 'this.' We all started as ghosts or rubble."

Arq leaned closer, more serious now.

"But here's what I see: You didn't build this place to be saved. You built it to never be owned again. Not by grief. Not by men. Not even by your past."

He took her hand and gave it a single, deliberate squeeze.

"Love him. Want him. Whatever. But don't wait on someone who doesn't know how to say the thing you bleed for."

 

[Sommer Dai]

She swallowed hard.

 

[Arq*]

Then Arq leaned back and added casually: "Also, you're overdue for gym rotation. Those arms are getting soft."

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer snorted. "Kark off."

 

[Kaelon Virex]

The air near the lower docks always stank of rust and recycled freon, the neon flickering like a dying pulse. Kael Virex adjusted his coat collar and leaned against the side of a shipment crate, eyes scanning for movement.

He shouldn't be here.
He knew he shouldn't be here.

But Therin Vos had sent a single, elegant message to his burner comm:

"Second chance. This time, we're not just talking numbers."

And now she emerged from the shadows like she'd materialized out of a corporate fantasy. Tailored black. Hair slicked back. Confidence so quiet it screamed.

"You came," she said smoothly.

Kael shrugged. "Curiosity's a hell of a spice."

She smiled, but there was steel behind it.

"We're prepared to make a formal acquisition bid. Fifty percent controlling interest in the Gilded Veil. You remain co-director. Sommer keeps creative oversight. You get paid. She gets power. Everyone wins."

Kael stared at her. "You don't understand Sommer Dai at all."

Therin stepped closer, slow, deliberate.

"I understand people who think the ground they built was sacred. Until they realize they're bleeding out trying to keep it standing. You love her. I see that. So help her."

Kael's jaw tensed. He didn't reply.

Because part of him hated how logical she sounded.

Therin reached up and placed a cardchip into his pocket — soft, calculated.

"When you're ready to talk business, instead of loyalty," she whispered, "call me."

And then she was gone.

 

[Arq*]

Meanwhile – The Gilded Veil

Backlit silhouettes passed through the threshold like a knife sliding into silk.

The music dipped.
The crowd felt it before they saw it.

A dozen figures — riders, brawlers, veterans of the dust lanes — entered in formation. Leather, steel, smoke-worn boots. A few helmets stayed on. Others had faces too scarred to be forgotten. Some still bore the jagged crest of the Diamond Eights, a swoop gang fractured in the wake of the Ghost incident.

And in the center of it all: Jakob Lowman.

Tall. Relaxed. Charisma like a coiled loth-wolf. Black jacket with a silver eight etched across the shoulder. Dark hair, streaked with oil. Eyes that smiled and threatened in the same breath.

They walked in without fear. Like they belonged.

Behind the bar, Arq's gaze sharpened.

He didn't move. Just turned to his host security quietly.

"No weapons. No drama. But make sure they're marked."

The guards nodded.

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer, meanwhile, was still in her office reviewing expense reports.

Fuel shipments had doubled. Bota prices spiked again. Staff turnover had increased. Repairs to the silk track. Cleaning droids offline. Three security upgrades pending.

"Unmanageable" blinked on her holotablet.

She exhaled sharply.

Cutting staff wasn't an option. But something would have to give. The Veil was eating credits faster than she could refill them.

Then came the ping at her comm.

:: Heads up. Diamond Eights just walked in.
:: Jakob's with them. Wants an audience.
— Arq

Her stomach twisted.

She rose, already grabbing her stunblade from the drawer.

 

[Arq*]

Jakob approached the VIP checkpoint with a cocky grin.

"I'm here to speak with Sommer Dai."

Arq stood firm, arms folded, shimmering and sharp in a violet blazer.

"Your boys can enjoy the drinks. But the Queen is not available to old problems dressed in recycled charisma."

Jakob smirked. "Don't worry, sweetheart. This isn't a challenge. It's a conversation."

"I don't believe in conversations that come wearing dust and expectation."

Jakob's face tightened just slightly. Enough to show he wasn't used to being told "no."

"Tell her it's not about Ghost. Not directly."

Arq leaned in with a grin that didn't reach his eyes.

"And tell you something: This isn't the old Nar Shaddaa. You don't get in with a wink and a memory. Not anymore."

Jakob backed off — but not far.

"I'll wait," he said, turning to his gang. "We'll drink. Behave. Maybe remind the room what real freedom smells like."

Arq's face didn't move.

But internally, a warning flared.

Too calm. Too clean. Jakob's never been about patience.

He sent a quiet alert to Hesk: "Watch the exits. They came to rattle something."

 

[Sommer Dai]

The Veil's lights dimmed just enough for the tension to breathe.


Patrons kept dancing, but slower now. Conversations softened to murmurs. A ripple moved through the air — the unspoken awareness that something important was happening.


The security detail was already in position: one at each upper balcony, two flanking the bar, one near the stage platform with eyes locked on the biker cluster.

But Jakob?

He just sat at a corner VIP booth like he'd never left Nar Shaddaa. Arm stretched lazily over the leather. Drink untouched. Smiling like a devil in idle prayer.


Then she entered.


Black fitted coat, tall boots, low collar, silver blade still sheathed at her side. Her presence cut through the haze like a vibroknife through silk. Poised, silent, lethal in her stillness.


And behind her? Arq, glittering in his blazer, drink in hand, but body tensed like a spring coiled under fine velvet.


Security noticed.
Jakob did too.


He rose, slow and deliberate, hands open.


"Sommer Dai. You look alive."


Sommer stopped two paces away from him, arms loose but ready, eyes steel.


"You look out of place."


Jakob chuckled low. "Still sharp."


"Still unwelcome," she shot back.

 

[Arq*]

The table went quiet. One of Jakob's gang moved slightly — a twitch of instinct — and immediately, Hesk, the Tognath bouncer, took a single step forward.

No words needed.

Jakob raised a hand to his man. "Easy, Synn."

Arq took a sip. "You boys really know how to ruin a vibe. The drinks were flowing, the crowd was glowing, and now? I'm considering a fire suppression system just for your cologne."

Jakob looked over at Arq, amused. "Still talking like the club's your stage."

Arq grinned. "I don't talk like anything. I am the stage."

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer interrupted, sharp and cutting:

"Why are you here, Jakob?"

His tone shifted. "To talk. No threats. No Ghosts. Just unfinished business."

"You finished your business when you left bodies in my lobby and bled your gang all over the lower districts."

"That wasn't me," he said, tone quieting. "That was him. And he's gone."

Sommer didn't move.

Jakob stepped closer.

"I'm not here to stake a claim. I'm here to make a deal."

Sommer raised a brow. "You think I'm buying anything you're selling?"

He gave a crooked grin. "Not credits. Information. You've got enemies growing in dark corners, Sommer. One of them walked through the Corporate Exchange four nights ago. Brunette. Cold eyes. Velvet tongue."

Sommer froze — barely. Arq's gaze flicked instantly to hers.

But Sommer covered it quick.

"What do you know?" she asked, low.

Jakob leaned in slightly. "I know she's not here for your decor. And I know your cousin met her."