The present
Sarissa stood, her posture rigid and her hands resting on the hilt of her sword, like a cane.
"We were able to map half the floors, but it only gets harder and harder to clear it…"
After she was done telling Miles her recollection of the last year – which still left him with a bitter taste in his tongue – he asked.
"How many did you lose?"
The question landed like a blade. Mara flinched, but didn't speak. Diego's hands, folded in front of him, gripped a little tighter.
"Too many…" Sarissa swallowed, shying from a question for the first time in her life.
"That's not a number." Miles said coldly.
She met his eyes with a blank expression.
"We lost forty-seven during the fifth deep dive. Nine more during the sixth. Eleven the time after that. There were a few solo attempts after. All dead or gone."
"So, seventy?" Miles asked, his voice flat.
