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A menacing red flash of the bionic eye. "Then they can't have gone far."

The wounded Kronock touched the back of its skull, wincing. "The Drexian was skilled.”

"Inferno Force," the other hissed, the words clearly an insult in its mouth.

The wounded one grunted. "I heard them say they were heading to the roof to steal a ship.”

I knew in an instant this was a lie. Of course, Dek would misdirect his pursuers, buying time for himself and Sasha to find an alternate escape route.

The other Kronock grabbed the wounded one by the throat and gave him a shake. "Sound the alarm. Lock down all ships. I want every available guard searching for them."

As the two aliens continued their heated exchange, I became aware of Morgan trembling against me, her breathing erratic. Whether from fear or the strain of remaining motionless for so long, she was struggling to maintain control.

Without thinking, I bent my head and covered her mouth with mine, silencing the tiny gasp that had begun to form on her lips.

She stiffened in shock, her eyes widening for a fraction of a second before sliding closed. The trembling stopped as she melted against me, her hands finding their way to my shoulders.

I was dimly aware of the Kronock guards lumbering away, their angry voices fading as they moved to sound the alarm, but my focus had narrowed to the sensation of Morgan's lips beneath mine, soft, warm, and surprisingly yielding.

When the corridor had fallen silent, I should have pulled away. But as Morgan's arms wound around my neck, drawing me closer, all thoughts of danger and duty receded. In that moment,there was only her. Only her touch, her taste, and the slight catch in her breath as I deepened the kiss.

With a groan I couldn't suppress, I forgot where we were, the mission, all the reasons this was a terrible idea, and I surrendered completely to the overwhelming need to be as close to her as possible. My hands found her waist, pulling her flush against me as the universe constricted to this one perfect point of connection.

Soon, I would recall all the reasons why Morgan and I could never be.

But in this stolen moment, hidden in the heart of enemy territory, I allowed myself to slip, to falter, and to take something that was just for me.

Chapter

Sixteen

Sasha

My lungs burned as we sprinted up the final ramp to ground level, Deklyn's hand wrapped around mine with an iron grip that made me want to punch him squarely in his perfectly chiseled jaw. His black hair whipped behind him as he pulled me along like I was some helpless woman rather than a decorated combat pilot.

After so long in captivity, my legs weren’t as strong as they’d been, and the muscles twitched painfully from the exertion. I cursed the fact that Deklyn needed to pull me, even though I noticed that he’d started to grimace. Maybe he wasn’t as unaffected by being held prisoner as he wanted me to believe.

"This way," he hissed, yanking me around a corner as heavy footsteps thundered somewhere behind us.

My mind was still reeling from the insanity of our escape. Playing sick was the oldest trick in the book, but one that apparently worked on reptilian guards with superiority complexes. Deklyn's execution, however, had been flawless. Theway he'd moved, deflected, and struck with such precise force had been impressive. I’d never seen anything like it.

Not that I'd ever admit that to his face. His ego was already big enough.

We ducked into an empty storage room, the door sliding shut behind us with a soft hiss. The moment we were hidden, I yanked my hand from his grasp, bristling at the presumption.

"You need to stop treating me like some damsel in distress," I snapped, tossing my hair over my shoulder. After months in captivity, it hung past my shoulders in a tangled mess. "I'm a fighter pilot, fully capable of taking care of myself."

Deklyn's lips curved into that infuriating grin that somehow managed to be both mocking and seductive at the same time. "Is that right? Remind me again how many Kronock guards you took down before I arrived?"

I glared at him, hating that he was right. Without him, I'd still be rotting in that cell. As much as it galled me to admit it, I hadn't been able to escape on my own.

"We make a good team," he added, his voice softening slightly. "There's no shame in that."

I rolled my eyes, unwilling to validate his point with a response. My father had drilled self-reliance into Ariana and me since we could walk. "Bowman women don't need rescuing," he'd say during our pre-dawn training sessions. "Bowman women do the rescuing."

The memory of my father sent a familiar tension coursing through my body. What would he think of me now? I’d been captured during my first major engagement with an alienenemy, imprisoned for months, and required rescue from a cocky alien warrior who seemed to think charm was a tactical advantage. Not only that, but my dirty uniform sagged from my flesh because of the weight I’d lost, and I was no longer in peak military condition.

Failure, his voice whispered in my head. Not good enough. Never good enough.