Page 15

Chapter fifteen

Breaking Point

P etre sat in his office, the early morning light starting to filter in. Rowen had left him before dawn, sneaking back to her own room so no one would see her. In his mind, he kept replaying the images of her flushed and sated in his bed, curling around him as she slept.

Fear clutched at his heart. He’d nearly lost her, before he had a chance to tell her how much she meant. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to remember her in the medbay, pale against the clinical sheets, her vibrant spirit dimmed by pain. Even wounded, she still had more courage than he could summon. He had made a vow to himself that he would never risk losing her again.

Petre was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize there was anyone else there until she spoke.

"My precious Petre." Bylelle's voice dripped false concern, sweet as poisoned honey. "Such drama at the construction site. I had to see for myself that you were unharmed."

Anger sparked in his chest, but he kept it carefully contained. "I'm fine, Maman. Thank you for your concern. The structural integrity systems responded as designed."

"And your little engineer?" She moved closer, her scent making his nostrils flare with instinctive aversion. "I heard she had quite the fall."

"Specialist May will recover," he said, his voice professionally neutral. "Her intervention saved the entire project."

“I saw the security footage. Such a tragedy. She was lucky you were there. The way you moved…” She paced the office slowly, occasionally stopping to pick up a datapad to inspect it. “I've never seen anything quite like it. Such raw desperation. Such… passion.”

Fear slithered through him. He tried to deny it. “The situation—”

She cut him off with a mocking laugh. “No, my dear. That wasn't duty. That was far more primal.” She moved around to stand next to him behind the desk. "Warriors," she mused, "are trained to protect those they care for. They’re also trained to lie effectively. But not to me." Her hand shot out to grip his jaw, sharp fingernails digging into his skin. "You care for her."

He could smell her anger as she leaned closer, her pupils dilating with jealous rage. He kept his voice steady despite the pain. "She's a valued member of my team."

"LIAR!" The word exploded from her. "I see how you look at her. How you hover around her workstation. Like some lovesick puppy instead of a proper Verit male."

Her nails dug deeper, leaving small crescents of pain. "Why, Petre? Why submit to her, and not me?"

All at once, he realized denial was pointless. Bylelle knew—had perhaps always known—his feelings for Rowen. Perhaps a different approach might work. The ghost of a bitter smile touched his lips. "What does it matter how I feel? She doesn't want me."

"What?" Bylelle's grip loosened slightly, confusion flickering across her perfect features.

"You saw her last night, didn't you?" He let the pain he'd been hiding color his voice. "She's with Varian. Dining, laughing...choosing someone else." He looked away, feigning defeat. "It doesn't matter what I feel if she doesn't feel the same."

Something shifted in Bylelle's expression—triumph mingled with cruel satisfaction. "Poor Petre," she cooed, stroking his face with false tenderness. "Rejected for someone so...inferior."

"It's her choice," he said quietly. "I respect that."

"Is it her choice, though?" Her smile turned razor sharp. "Did you know I suggested Varian approach her?"

The words hit like a physical blow, pieces clicking into place with sickening clarity. "You arranged it."

"Of course I did." She looked immensely pleased with herself. "Did you think Varian would dare pursue her on his own? He knows exactly where his loyalties lie." Her hands slid down his chest possessively. "Unlike some."

He caught her wrists, removing her hands from his body. "Don't."

"No?" She leaned closer, her breath hot against his face. "Have you lost your spirit entirely? The female you want is out with another male, and you sit here like a neutered pet? Don’t you want revenge?"

Rage unfurled in his chest, dark and primitive. "Get out." His voice emerged stripped of civilized veneer. "This game is finished."

Her smile widened. "Oh, Petre. The game is just beginning." She traced a finger down his chest, dragging open the catches on his shirt one by one. "You will give me what I want, or I will take everything you love. Your brother first, I think. Then your precious mentor. And finally, your little engineer—though I might let you watch that one."

The threat shattered the last of his internal leashes. He grabbed her wrists, using her momentum to spin her, pinning her against his desk. "Is this what you want?" he snarled, letting her feel his full strength he usually kept contained. "To own me? To break me?"

"Yes," she breathed, eyes bright with hunger. She surged toward him, gripping his hair. "I can have your little engineer killed tonight. Right now. You may have forgotten who you are, but your brothers have not."

His heart dropped. "No!"

"Convince me then," she purred, pressing her lips to his, biting down on his lower lip. "Give me a reason not to. Show me how you submit."

He kissed her, pouring his rage and fury into it. It was a thing of teeth and hatred. She moaned and clawed at him, pawing at his clothes. She reached for his waistband, undoing it, panting in her desire. She palmed him, squeezing and pumping. He let it go on for a few seconds, then abruptly stood back, making her stumble. He methodically, dispassionately, fastened his pants and straightened himself.

By the time she realized what was happening, he had moved to the other side of the room. She stood herself up, confusion warring with fury as she straightened her skirts. She froze when she saw his stony expression.

For a moment, she looked shaken, and it occurred to him how young she was. Barely twenty-one and brought up in the viciousness of the Maman convocation. But then, her face screwed up in rage. "You...but you..."

"No." His voice was clipped. "Never with you."

Her face blanched as if she'd been struck. For a split second, he thought she might try to kill him. Then, before his eyes, her expression went blank. Wiped away like it had never existed.

That chilled him more than anything else she'd done so far.

"That was a mistake," she said, her voice unnaturally calm.

He opened his mouth to retort, but she cut him off. "The scanners are providing excellent data, by the way. Though one has stopped transmitting. I assume it was discovered?"

The abrupt shift made his head spin. "I…I don't know."

"No matter." She flicked the prospect of his discovery and arrest away casually. "You will plant more."

He scrambled, trying to keep up with her. "That's not a good idea. If they've found one, they'll be looking for more."

She looked straight through him, her face expressionless. "You will plant more. You have your orders."

In a flash, understanding struck him. "You want them to be discovered."

"Plant them when Broken gives you the tour." She smiled, all teeth. "He makes such a convenient scapegoat, don't you think?"

Ice spread through his veins. "He'll be arrested. Deported at best."

"Unless someone speaks for him." She folded her hands primly. "Someone with influence. Someone who could protect him...if properly motivated."

The scope of her plan hit him like a physical blow. Create a crisis. Make him complicit in her schemes until he had no choice but to submit.

"You would destroy everything," he said, appalled, "just to own me?"

She sneered. "Don't be so arrogant. We want the data as well."

She reached into the pocket of her voluminous skirt and pulled out a handful of the little scanners, letting them drop to the floor. "Plant these tomorrow. On your tour with Broken. If we don't get the information we need in three days, we'll start carving pieces from your father."

She met his gaze with cold certainty. "I already own you. You are just slow at learning the lesson."

Only after she left did he allow his legs to give out, sinking into his chair as the full weight of her cruelty settled over him. The taste of bile rose in his throat, and he didn't quite manage to get the bin over in time.

He sat in his office for nearly an hour, trapped in his own mind as he weighed his options again and again. But with full daylight came a strange clarity. The moment he made the decision—really made it, not just considered it—something shifted inside him. By the time he arrived at Luken's for breakfast, the frantic desperation that had plagued him for weeks had crystallized into something harder, colder, and infinitely more dangerous: resolve. Bylelle thought she owned him, but she had miscalculated. In trying to break him completely, she had inadvertently stripped away his last reason to hold back.

***

Petre sat at Luken's breakfast table, methodically spreading jam across his toast with precise, controlled movements.

Luken watched his brother with concern, noting the shadows under his eyes and the newfound stillness in his demeanor. Gone was the constrained fury of the past few weeks; in its place, a cold resolve had taken root.

"You look different this morning," Luken observed, setting his coffee down. "Something's changed."

"I told Rowen everything." The words fell into the quiet like stones into still water.

Luken's eyebrows rose. "Everything?"

"Father. Bylelle's threats. All of it." Petre took a measured bite of his toast, chewing methodically. "She deserved to know the danger she's in."

"And how did she take it?"

A ghost of a smile touched Petre's lips. "Better than I deserved. She's stronger than I gave her credit for." His expression hardened. "Bylelle knows that I care about her. She thinks Rowen doesn’t want me back, but I don’t know how much I can keep up the ruse." He laughed brittlely.

Luken exhaled slowly. "That's...going to complicate things."

"It clarifies them." Petre's voice carried quiet certainty. "Now I know exactly where we stand."

"And where is that, exactly?"

"We have three days before they kill Father." Petre's voice remained steady, but his knuckles whitened around his knife. "Bylelle wants me to plant more scanners during Broken's tour today. To let him take the fall when they're discovered."

"Broken?" Luken's voice emerged rough. "She wants you to betray Broken?"

"The male who was more father to us than our own." Something dangerous flickered behind Petre's eyes. "Who protected us, mentored us, gave us a future beyond being warrior-slaves."

"What are you going to do?"

Petre set down his knife with deliberate precision. "I'm going on the tour. I'm taking the scanners with me, and I’m going to plant them."

"Petre—"

"I'll do what I have to do to keep Father alive, to keep Rowen safe." His gaze met his brother's, unwavering. "We’ll deal with the fall-out when it happens."

"You have a plan." It wasn't a question.

“No. I have no plan. Just hope.” Petre met his gaze. “This can’t continue, this manipulation. They’re going too far, pushing us to the edge. Eventually, it’ll crack. Whether it’s the rebels or something else, I don’t know. Right now, I can’t worry about that. I need to keep the people I love alive.”

"You're putting a lot of faith in possibilities," Luken cautioned. "How can I help?"

"Keep searching for Father. Keep trying to get to the rebels. And watch over Rowen when I can't." Petre's expression softened momentarily. "She insists on helping, but I don't want her anywhere near Bylelle." He grimaced. “She’s agreed to go on a couple of dates with Varian to throw Bylelle off the scent, but I don’t know how long she can maintain the charade.”

Luken gaped for a moment, before swallowing. "Consider it done." Luken reached across the table, gripping his brother's forearm in the warrior's clasp. "Just...don't do anything reckless."

Petre's smile held a predatory edge. "Nothing reckless. Just necessary." He stood, his movements fluid and controlled. "I need to get ready. Broken's waiting."

As Petre headed for the door, Luken called after him. "I'm with you, Brother. Whatever comes."

Petre paused, looking back with quiet intensity. "I know." Then, more softly, "That's what will get us through this."

***

The scanner felt cold against Petre's palm as he followed Broken through Casti's engineering sections. There was no more anxiety, only quiet resolve. He had made his choice. Everyone would live, and he would deal with the consequences later.

"The neural pathways extend through the entire structure," Broken was saying, in his usual gruff manner. "See how the connections mirror organic synaptic patterns?"

Memories surfaced; Broken standing between him and the combat masters, fighting for his right to study engineering. Broken teaching him to repair an environmental system. Broken believing in him when his own clan saw nothing but another blade to be sharpened.

"It’s an efficient design," Petre replied, his voice steady as his eyes cataloged each junction, each access point, looking for places to hide the scanners.

Broken paused at an interface panel, pointing out integration architecture. Petre leaned in to examine the panel. As Broken turned to activate a diagnostic display, Petre's hand moved. The first scanner slid into place beneath the panel, its adaptive surface bonding instantly with it. A tiny green light pulsed once, then faded to camouflage mode.

One down. Four to go.

"The integration of biological and mechanical systems is impossible to replicate with our technology," Broken continued, leading him deeper into the engineering sector.

They entered a chamber filled with pulsing, organic-looking tubes that reminded Petre of a vascular system. The perfect location for the second scanner. As Broken walked ahead, gesturing expansively, Petre kneeled to adjust his boot. The second device attached to the underside of a diagnostic terminal, nestled between power conduits where it would be virtually invisible.

Two.

With each placement, a strange numbness spread through him. Not panic or desperation anymore, just the calm detachment of someone doing what had to be done.

"You're unusually quiet today," Broken observed as they entered the propulsion sector. "Something on your mind?"

"Just absorbing it all," Petre replied, the lie coming smoothly now. "It's...a lot to process."

Broken's expression softened. "Take your time. It took me weeks to understand half of what I'm showing you."

While Broken examined a display panel, Petre seized the opportunity to place the third scanner on the underside of a structural support beam.

Three.

They continued to the data processing center, where crystalline structures resembled a forest of transparent trees.

"This is the core of Casti," Broken explained. "The computing power here exceeds everything in the Alliance combined."

"Incredible," Petre murmured, and he meant it. Even as he betrayed these secrets, he couldn't help appreciating the technological marvel. As they rounded a particularly large crystal cluster, he pretended to stumble, catching himself against a support column. The fourth scanner attached to its surface.

Four.

The final scanner weighed heavy in his pocket as they approached what Broken called the "memory core"—a spherical chamber where the walls themselves seemed to pulse with stored information.

"This is as far as we can go without Odran or Zera," Broken explained. "The deeper sections require a bonded navigator's authorization."

Perfect. The entrance to the restricted area would be an ideal location for the final scanner. As Broken turned to lead them back, Petre paused.

"Actually, I had a question about this junction," he said, pointing to a complex pattern of connections near the security barrier. As Broken approached to explain, Petre's fingers deftly placed the last scanner at the threshold of the restricted section.

Five. Done.

Five scanners strategically placed throughout Casti's most sensitive areas, each transmitting valuable data directly to the Maman. His father would live. Luken would be safe. And Rowen...Rowen would understand, even as she hated what he'd had to do.

As they continued their tour, Petre walked with a strange sense of completion. Not triumphant, certainly not proud, but at least resolved. The weight of his actions settled around his shoulders like a heavy coat. He would regret this betrayal for the rest of his life, but regret was preferable to losing everyone he loved.

Broken paused suddenly, his expression thoughtful. "You seem different today."

Petre met his mentor's gaze. "I've had some time to think."

"About?"

He chose his words carefully. "About priorities. About what matters most."

Broken studied him for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "And what matters most, Petre?"

"Family," he answered simply. "Keeping safe those I care about."

A shadow of concern crossed Broken's face. "At what cost?"

Petre's smile was thin but genuine. "That's the question, isn't it?"

When this was over, when his father and Luken and Rowen were secure, he would face the consequences of his actions. Not with the desperate panic he'd felt before, but with the quiet acceptance of someone who had made a difficult choice with open eyes.

His HUD pinged, a message from Rowen. “I need you in the courtyard. Varian has crashed my lunch hour. I’m getting weird vibes from him. Can you come now?”