Page 25 of Alien Mercenary’s Wife (Lathar Mercenaries: Warborne #7)

R eese's left leg buckled without warning as she rounded the corner toward her quarters.

She caught herself against the corridor wall.

The comm session with the other veterans had drained her more than she'd expected.

Seven survivors out of fifty-three who'd started this fight.

The numbers felt like a punch to the gut.

Her quarters were just ahead, offering the privacy she needed to process everything she'd learned. Hughes's trembling hands, Ryans' bitter laugh, and Mason's scarred face twisted with fury. All of them were still clinging to hope that was fading fast.

The soft murmur of voices from the medical bay up ahead caught her attention. T'Raal's voice she recognised… mixed with Tal's more careful tones. She slowed down as the conversation reached her.

"—Empire has treatments that could reverse the neural damage completely."

She stopped dead. The words hit her like ice water, jolting her fully alert. Neural damage… Treatments. She and Eris were the only two people aboard with neural damage, and Eris was healed.

"Neural pathway reconstruction, cellular regeneration protocols, genetic repair sequences."

Her heart hammered against her ribs. They were talking about her condition. About treatments that could fix what the defective implants had broken. Imperial medicine that could give her back her life, everything she'd lost.

"No." T'Raal's voice cut through the air. "No Imperial involvement. Find another way."

The world tilted sideways. She pressed herself against the corridor wall, knowing she needed to hear this conversation.

"There might not be another way," Tal argued, sounding frustrated. "The Empire has been researching neural interface technology for decades. They understand this type of damage better than any other medical establishment in the galaxy."

"Then we find someone else who understands it. No Imperial entanglements."

"This isn't about politics. This is about saving her life."

Saving her life. The words echoed in her mind while T'Raal rejected Imperial help outright. As if decisions about her life, her body, were his to make.

"There has to be another solution."

Her hands clenched into fists as anger flared white-hot in her chest. Another solution. While she deteriorated day by day, while other veterans like Hughes and Ryans suffered through progressive paralysis, T'Raal was dismissing proven treatments because of what? His objections to the source.

The conversation continued, Tal explaining anonymous research papers and treatments being developed by someone called Laarn. Imperial medical establishment. She shook her head. More politics. More barriers between her and the help she and the others needed.

"Tell her the treatment is ongoing. That we're exploring options. Don't lie, but don't give her specifics until we have more information."

She gritted her teeth so hard she was surprise they didn’t snap off at the root. Yeah, right. Keep her in the dark. Manage her like a child who needed to be protected. Feed her bullshit while making decisions about her future behind closed doors.

She heard Tal agreeing and T'Raal's footsteps nearing the door. She pressed deeper into the shadows, waiting as he emerged from the doorway.

He looked tired, she realized. Tension etched lines around his eyes, and his shoulders sagged with exhaustion. But that didn't give him the right to decide her fate or the fates of the others.

T'Raal turned toward his quarters, walking with his usual predatory grace. She followed, her footsteps silent on the deck plating. Military training ran deeper than damaged nerves.

She waited until his door closed before covering the final distance. The control panel chimed softly as she activated the entry request, then stepped inside without waiting for permission.

T'Raal looked up from where he'd been reaching for something on his desk, surprise flickering across his face.

"Reese. Everything alright?"

"No." The word came out harder than she'd intended, carrying months of frustration and the fresh burn of betrayal. "Everything is not alright."

His posture shifted subtly, going into commander mode. "What's wrong?"

"Imperial medical technology." She air-quoted. "Neural pathway reconstruction, cellular regeneration protocols, genetic repair sequences. Any of that sound familiar?"

He went still. "You were listening."

"I was walking back to my quarters when I heard you and Tal discussing my medical condition. My prognosis. My treatment options." She stepped closer, anger giving her strength despite the exhaustion pulling at her. "Decisions about my life that you were making without consulting me ."

"It's not that simple?—"

"Isn't it?" She cut him off. "There's Imperial technology that could reverse my condition. It could help Hughes and Ryans, and all the others who are dying from these implants. And you dismissed it out of hand!"

His jaw tightened. "There are complications?—"

"There are always complications. That's why we make hard choices instead of easy ones." She moved closer, getting right in his face. "But you didn't even consider it. Didn't think it was worth discussing with the person whose life is on the line."

"I'm trying to protect you."

"Protect me?” She scoffed, her blood boiling. “By keeping me in the dark? By lying to me about my own fucking condition?"

"I wasn't lying?—"

"Tell her the treatment is ongoing. Don't give her specifics." Her voice turned mocking. "What do you call that if not lying?"

T'Raal's hands clenched at his sides. "Managing the situation until we have more information."

"Managing the situation?" She barked a laugh. "I'm not a ‘situation’ to be managed. I'm a person with the right to make informed decisions about my own medical care."

"You don't understand the implications?—"

"I understand that there's treatment available and you're blocking access to it." She stepped closer again, poking him in the chest with a hard finger. "I understand that you'd rather watch me die than accept help from the Empire."

Something dangerous flickered in his expression. "That's not what this is about."

"Then what is it about? What's so terrible about Imperial medicine that you'd condemn me and dozens of other veterans to paralysis rather than consider it?"

"Because I'd have to ask the draanthing Emperor!" The words exploded out of him with enough force to make her take a step back.

She stared at him. "You'd have to ask the Emperor? What do you mean 'ask the Emperor'?"

T'Raal's expression set as he looked down at her.

She shook her head. “That’s bullshit… I mean, do you know the guy personally or something?”

"Yes! I do!” He burst out. “He's my father!"

Her jaw dropped. Emperor Daaynal K'Saan. The most powerful man in the galaxy. And he was T'Raal's father.

"Shit. Your father?"

"My father." The words came out flat, stripped of emotion. "Emperor Daaynal K'Saan."

She sank onto the edge of his bunk with a thud. "You're an alien prince. A goddamn alien prince."

"I'm not a prince," T'Raal growled. "I'm nothing. My mother fled the Empire while pregnant rather than let them discover she was carrying his child."

"But... you're royalty."

"No, I'm nothing ," he snarled. "I'm just a mercenary who picked his own path."

"So the medical treatment?—"

"Would require acknowledging who I am. Would require walking into that world and accepting everything I've rejected my entire life." He moved to the small viewport, staring out at the stars. "Would need me to become someone I swore I'd never be."

She watched him, seeing the tension written into every line of his big, powerful frame.

"How long have you been running from this?" she asked quietly.

"Since my mother died and I had to decide who I wanted to be."

He'd spent his whole life running from who he was, and now she was asking him to embrace it. She understood duty, understood the kind of sacrifices that honor demanded. But she also understood that some prices were too high to ask anyone to pay… but she couldn’t leave it.

"The other veterans," she said finally. "Hughes, Ryans, all the others… they're dying as well. And they don’t have Tal on their side."

T’Raal turned from the viewport, his expression guarded. "There are other alternatives. Tal is researching?—"

"Stop." She held up a hand, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming anger. "Just stop. I need to think about this."

T'Raal watched Reese's face like a hawk. Silence hung between them. Her dark eyes held shock, confusion, and an emotion he couldn't name.

She was going to leave. His stomach clenched. Harder than a punch.

"Reese." Her name came out rougher than he'd intended. "I know this changes?—"

"Does it?" She looked up at him from where she sat on his bunk, exhaustion replacing the anger that had driven her here. "You're not different now than ten minutes ago, right?"

The question caught him off guard. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you suddenly someone else because I know who your father is?" She studied his face. "Or are you still the man who—" She stopped, shook her head. "Never mind."

He opened his mouth to deflect, to give her the same careful non-answer he'd perfected over decades. Instead, truth escaped before he could stop it. "No. But I've spent my entire life afraid of what would happen if anyone found out."

His hands clenched into fists. "Afraid they'd want things from me. Or run because they don't want the complications."

She was quiet for a long moment, those dark eyes seeing too much. He felt stripped bare before her.

"So, which am I?" she asked finally. "Someone who wants something, or someone who's going to run?"

His throat felt raw. "I don't know."

She stood slowly. He tensed, ready for excuses about needing time to process. For the polite rejection that would let them both pretend this conversation had never happened.

Instead, she stepped closer. "I'm not going anywhere."

Tightness in his chest began to ease, but he didn't dare?—