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Ki’Remi arched a brow. ‘As long as I’m absolved of my actions and not disavowed.’

‘Never,’ hiskhosigrinned. ‘I’m off to bed and my woman. I’ll leave you two to wrap up.’

He stalked out, his ludicrous velvet robe billowing as the chamber door shut behind him.

‘Still can’t work out who was the stick and the carrot in this here wind-up,’ Ki’Remi groused, turning to the Sable Group’s mind master.

‘Kainan’s the softie. I’m always the stick, the whip, and the rod, my friend,’ Mirage said with a sweet smile.

‘What great big whips you have,’ Ki’Remi growled.

‘All the better to smack you into line with,’ Mirage replied with a sanguine simper.

He spent the next twenty minutes in a detailed briefing.

The AI walked him through everything they had, what little it was. The unknown ship’s weapon profiles, the tactical analysis, and power readings.

By the time he left, his mind churned with more unanswered questions.

He returned to his suite, silent as a shadow, slipping into bed without waking Issa.

She stirred.

Still half-asleep, she murmured with a sultriness he was unable to resist.

In an instant, she curled into him, her bare leg sliding over his, her body melting into his warmth, her breathing slow, peaceful, unaware of the turmoil burning through him.

He exhaled, kissing the crown of her curls as he soothed her back to sleep.

However, his mind roiled in chaos, and it took many long minutes of burying his face in Issa’s nape before he quieted and let himself fall into slumber.

The following morning, Ki’Remi did not want to leave.

Not his suite, not the peace they built in those stolen days, and not Issa, warm and languid in his arms, tangled in his sheets.

Still, duty called, as did a curly new order burning his craw.

With reluctance, he rose from bed and packed up while she stretched, still in his tee.

Her eyes followed him as he moved around the room.

‘You look pissed, Sable,’ she teased, taking a sip ofkahawafrom the cup he made earlier for her.

‘I’m always pissed when I have to deploy,’ he muttered.

His jaw clenched as the reality of last night’s briefing settled over his mind like a lead weight.

He hated that he’d been handed a mission that meant prying into the woman who was fast becoming his reason for breathing.

Despite all his years of loyalty to the Riders, this was the first assignment he didn’t want to take because spying on Issa wasn’t just distasteful.

It felt like a breach of a sacred, unspoken promise, given she opened her heart and shared her most agonizing secrets with him.

However, he had no choice.

The ghosts of an ancient war were resurfacing, and somehow, she was tied to it.

He ran a hand over his face, his fingers grazing his scruff as he shifted to glance at her.