Page 82 of Alien Assassin's Heir

CHAPTER 24

KRAJ

Iwake to the scent of ozone. Not the sharp sting of lightning splitting the sky—no storm rumbles above Arkosh this morning. This storm brews inside me. My gut churns with it, the fine hairs at the back of my neck prickling the way they always did when death drew near.

Targen is close. I feel him. The bastard has crossed light-years to get here, and every instinct I’ve honed in the war tells me he’s already tightening his grip.

But before it all erupts, before the knives and blood and fire, I want one more moment. Just one that belongs only to us.

I slip out of bed without waking Solie. She’s curled into her mother’s warmth, her tiny breath steady, her thumb still tucked between her lips. Luna’s hair spills across the pillow, tangled, wild, like she’s been dreaming deep. For a heartbeat, I let myself stand there and watch them—the two souls who cracked open a hollow man and filled him with something he thought he’d burned out of himself years ago.

Then I lean down, brush a kiss over Luna’s temple. She stirs, blinking up at me.

“Kraj?” Her voice is thick with sleep, tender in a way that hits me harder than any battlefield wound.

“Come with me,” I murmur.

She frowns. “Now?”

“Now.”

Vale agreesto keep Solie without question—just a nod, a grumble about keeping the kettle warm, and the faintest ghost of a smile at the way Luna squeezes my hand before we leave. The old tech officer knows enough not to ask questions.

The skimmer carries us through the canyons, its engines thrumming beneath our feet. The air outside smells of dust and metal, the tang of minerals carried on the wind. Arkosh is always dry, but tonight it tastes different—charged, alive.

When we crest the rise and the cliffs stretch out before us, Luna gasps.

The sky is painted in violet and gold, dual suns low on the horizon, their dying light bleeding into the growing blue-black of night. The wind tugs at her hair, carrying the scent of wild desert blooms clinging stubbornly to the rock face.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.

I step closer, my chest brushing her back, my voice a low rumble against her ear. “Not as much as you.”

She laughs softly, shaky, like she wants to believe it but can’t quite let herself. Her hands grip the railing, knuckles pale. “We could run,” she says suddenly, turning her face toward me. Her eyes glisten in the fading light. “We could still run. New names, new world. Disappear into the dark.”

For a moment I want to believe it too. I imagine it: her smile under alien skies, Solie chasing fireflies on some backwater moon, no one hunting us. But I know better.

I shake my head. “He’ll follow. He always does.”

Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t argue. She knows I’m right.

We stand there in silence, the wind whipping around us, carrying with it the sound of the canyon below. My claws flex against the railing, leaving faint scratches in the metal. I feel her watching me, and when I turn, her expression nearly undoes me—fear and love, defiance and surrender all forged together.

“Kraj,” she breathes, and that single word is enough.

I close the space between us, my hands cupping her face. Her lips are trembling when I press mine to them, soft at first, tentative—as if we’re still learning each other after all these years. Then something snaps, and the kiss deepens, turns hungry, desperate. Her nails dig into my shoulders, her body pressing against mine like she can anchor herself in my strength.

The storm inside me breaks.

We tumble to the ground, the canyon dust clinging to our skin, the wind wrapping us in its howl. My mouth trails fire down her throat, her gasp cutting through the air like music. Her hands roam my back, pulling me closer, urging me not to hold back.

And I don’t.

Every kiss, every touch is wild and sacred, a prayer and a sin all at once. There’s no pretense left, no walls between us. Only the truth of flesh and heart and the reckless choice to be here, together, even with doom closing in.

When we finally collapse against each other, breathless, the stars have begun to pierce the violet sky. Her cheek rests against my chest, her heartbeat drumming against my ribs.

“This can’t last,” she whispers, voice breaking.