Page 22 of Alien Mercenary’s Wife (Lathar Mercenaries: Warborne #7)

"Couldn't get close. They had overwatch positions, heavy weapons. Every time I tried to advance, plasma cannon fire forced me back." Her hands clenched in her lap. "I watched them die."

He held back his wince. "Any other survivors? Or just you?"

"Eris." Her voice roughened slightly. "I saw her Scorperio crawling across broken pavement, half-dead from the electromagnetic damage. She managed to crack the hatch and get out just before large-caliber rounds riddled her unit. The others weren't so lucky."

He nodded, understanding the guilt she felt even though it wasn’t her fault.

"We were set up," she sighed. "But then they said it was suit malfunction."

"Could this be connected?" he asked. "The same tech that hit your people… could it be linked to what's happening to veterans now? The defective implants?"

"That's what I've been trying to prove. The lawsuit, the evidence gathering. All of it." She looked at him directly. "It has to be the same bastards who made the defective implants that are killing veterans now."

"And they've been hunting you to keep you quiet."

“Yeah.”

Cold anger settled in his chest. They were systematically eliminating witnesses, murdering veterans who'd served with honor.

"You're safe here," he told her. "You're not fighting this alone anymore."

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and something shifted in the air between them.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For listening. For believing me."

"Your fight is our fight now." He reached out to brush a strand of sweat-dampened hair away from her face. Her skin was warm beneath his fingers, soft in ways that made his pulse quicken.

She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before opening to meet his gaze directly.

"Reese," he murmured, her name rough on his tongue.

She moved first, closing the distance between them. Her lips met his with surprising softness, seeking comfort and connection. He responded carefully, one hand cupping her face while the other settled at her waist, letting her set the pace.

The kiss was tender rather than passionate, two people finding momentary peace in each other's warmth. When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against his, breathing soft against his skin.

"Stay?" she asked, the word barely audible.

"Yeah." His voice came out rougher than intended. "I'll stay."

She settled against his chest, her head finding the hollow of his shoulder with natural ease. He felt the tension slowly leaving her muscles as exhaustion finally claimed her.

He didn't move, didn't want to wake her. Her breathing slowed, deeper now. She trusted him enough to actually sleep. That meant something.

His comm unit chimed softly. T'Raal ignored it, unwilling to disturb Reese's sleep. The comm chimed again, a different tone—the specific frequency reserved for his imperial contact. He tensed.

Moving carefully to avoid waking Reese, he reached into his pants pocket. The encrypted signal pulsed softly, waiting for acknowledgment.

He accepted the connection with a gesture, voice low.

"Yeah?"

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important." Emperor Daaynal's voice was unmistakable as it filled the small quarters.

T'Raal's heart lurched. Of all the people who might call at this hour, the Emperor was not who he’d expected.

"Your Majesty," he said. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I find myself unable to sleep, and our previous conversation left me with questions I'd like to explore further." Daaynal paused. "Is this a convenient time?"

T'Raal looked down at the woman sleeping peacefully in his arms, her trust written in every relaxed line of her body.

"I can talk," he said finally.

"That signal you used during our meeting... it brought back memories. Old ones. Of someone I served with. Someone extraordinary." There was a pause on the line. "M'Aarni was the finest warrior I ever knew. Brilliant, fearless, completely devoted to protecting others. You have her eyes, you know."

"You remember her eyes?"

"I remember everything about her." Daaynal's voice grew softer. "She saved my life more times than I could count. I trusted her above all others."

"She never told me much about her service." T'Raal kept his voice carefully neutral despite the thickness in his throat. "Just that she'd served with honor."

"She did. More than that—she served with distinction. Her combat record was exemplary." Another pause. "How did she die, if you don't mind my asking?"

T'Raal closed his eyes, feeling Reese's steady breathing against his chest.

"Combat injury," he said finally. "Took shrapnel protecting civilians during a pirate raid. Lasted three days before the damage was too much." The words came out flat, factual, hiding an eighteen-year-old's devastation at watching the only family he'd ever known slip away. "I was eighteen."

"I'm sorry. Losing a parent that young... it changes everything."

"Yeah." He shifted position slightly, careful not to wake Reese. "It does."

"But you have a family of your own now, don’t you? Tell me about her. Your daughter."

A small smile crossed his features. "Raised her from when she was tiny. She's grown into someone I'm proud to call family."

"Family is what we make it," Daaynal agreed. "Blood is just biology."

The comm unit displayed an incoming image file. T'Raal hesitated for a moment, then accepted the transfer. A photograph materialized on the small screen… a younger Daaynal in full imperial regalia standing beside a woman in Praetoviatt armor.

It was his mother, but younger than he remembered her… fierce and beautiful, the same stubborn set to her shoulders, the same determined eyes. Seeing her again, healthy and strong, made his chest ache.

"She was magnificent," Daaynal said softly. "I wanted you to see her as I remember her."

T'Raal stared at the image of his mother, young and vital in a way that made the years between then and her death seem impossibly short. "Thank you," he managed, his voice rougher than intended.

"There are others, if you'd like to see them. When you're ready."

"I'd like that."

"Good." Daaynal paused. "Would it be all right if I called again? I find myself... curious about the man she raised. About the choices you've made."

T'Raal looked down at Reese sleeping in his arms, thought about the crew who'd become his family... the life he'd built on his own terms. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Perhaps not," Daaynal agreed. "But I'd like to try anyway, if you're willing."

“Yeah, okay.”

“Thank you.”

The connection ended, leaving T'Raal staring at the image of his mother in the darkness.