Page 9

GUVAN

I turn away from her because looking at her is like staring into the sun—too bright, too raw.

The shattered remnants of Sunrise on Vakuta burn in my mind, and the wood chopping isn’t doing a damn thing to quiet the storm inside me.

Especially not with her standing there, watching.

Waiting. Her presence is a distraction I can’t afford, a thorn in my side that I can’t pull out.

I spin around, forcing my eyes to stay locked on her face and not wander down to the ridiculous outfit Jareth thought was appropriate.

“Why are you still standing here?” The words snap out of me, sharp enough to make her flinch.

“You saw the mess, I’m certain. It had better be cleaned before it’s time for my dinner. ”

She doesn’t move. Just stares at me with those blue eyes that see too much, that dig too deep. There’s fear there, sure—good. She should fear me. But there’s something else, something soft and dangerous. Pity. My chest tightens.

She knows. The thought hits me like a punch to the gut. She knows how broken I am because I lost control.

I kick the chopping block hard enough to send it toppling over, the sound of wood against wood cracking through the clearing. She takes a half-step back but doesn’t run. Doesn’t look away. Her spine stays straight, her chin up. And that look in her eyes—it’s still there.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I growl. “Don’t you dare pity me.”

“I don’t pity you.” Her voice is soft but steady. “I just… know what it means to lose.”

Before I can stop her, she steps forward, her hand reaching out. Her fingers brush against my chest, right over my heart. The contact is light, almost hesitant, but it feels like a brand. My hand twitches, , I almost cover hers with mine. Almost.

“It’s okay to feel sad,” she says, her words quieter now, almost a whisper. “It doesn’t make you weak.”

I freeze. The weight of her hand, her words, her gaze—it’s too much. I snatch her hand away from my chest, my grip tight enough to make her wince. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t fight me.

“My living room isn’t going to clean itself.” The words come out harsh, jagged. I drop her hand and turn away before she can see the cracks in my armor. Before she can see anything more.

She hesitates for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. Then, without a word, she turns and walks back toward the cabin. I watch her go, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. The storm inside me rages on, but it’s quieter now. And that’s worse—so much worse.

I can’t stay. The cabin, the woods, this planet —it’s all suffocating me.

Reily’s presence is a weight I can’t carry, her words a blade cutting through defenses I’ve spent centuries building.

I turn and run, my boots pounding against the earth, the rhythm of my stride grounding me in something familiar.

The image inducer buzzes faintly on my wrist, and I rip it off, letting it clatter to the ground.

My scales flare in the sunlight, dark red and unyielding, and the air feels cooler against my skin.

I don’t stop until I reach the ridge overlooking Mirror Lake. The view is… breathtaking. The water is a perfect mirror, reflecting the mountains and the endless blue sky. It’s beautiful. And it’s going to be destroyed because of me.

The weight of that knowledge hits me harder than I expected. I’ve destroyed plenty of things in my time—ships, cities, lives. But this? This feels different. Reily’s face flashes in my mind, the way her eyes narrowed when she accused me of ruining Coldwater. She’ll hate me for this.

“Why does it matter what she thinks?” I mutter aloud, my voice a low growl. It shouldn’t. She’s just a human. A stubborn, infuriating, beautiful human who somehow sees right through me.

I kneel at the edge of the ridge, my claws digging into the earth. My mind drifts to impossible things—her laughter, her touch, the way her body would feel pressed against mine. Stupid fantasies.

“No,” I snarl, shaking my head like it might dislodge the thoughts. I slam a fist into the ground, sending a shower of dirt and rocks tumbling down the slope. “She’s not mine to want. She’s not anything .”

But the memory of her hand on my chest lingers, warm and soft, and it makes my scales itch. I can’t afford this. I can’t afford her.

“You’re a warrior,” I remind myself. “Not a fool.”

I stand, turning my back on the lake. The image inducer is still in pieces somewhere behind me, but I don’t care. Let the humans see me for what I am. Let them fear me. It’s easier that way.

The hike back to the cabin does nothing to clear my head.

Every step feels like a battle, the weight of Reily’s presence clinging to me like a shadow.

I try to focus on the crunch of leaves underfoot, the distant call of a hawk overhead, but it’s no use.

Her face keeps flashing in my mind, her blue eyes wide and defiant, her hand brushing against my chest like she thought she could fix me with a single touch.

I clench my fists. She doesn’t get to do that.

She doesn’t get to see the cracks in the armor I’ve spent centuries building.

She doesn’t get to make me feel like this—like I’m something more than a weapon, like I’m weak.

No. I’m going to punish her for it. For the broken window, for the shattered Sunrise on Vakuta, for the way she makes my chest tighten every time I think about her. She’ll learn her place.

By the time I reach the cabin’s front yard, my mood hasn’t improved.

My compad buzzes on my belt, and I snatch it up, scowling at the screen.

A Zoom meeting. I forgot about it entirely.

Typical. The human farce of “Gary Irons, billionaire industrialist” is exhausting, but it’s part of the mission. I should’ve been prepared for this.

I glance down at my bare chest, scales glinting in the sunlight. No time to fix that now. I activate the image inducer, the holographic disguise snapping into place over my skin. Good enough. I sit down on a stump in the yard, propping the compad on a nearby log and joining the call.

The screen fills with faces, each one glancing at me with varying degrees of surprise and amusement. I don’t care. Let them think this is some kind of power move. Let them think I’m too much of an “alpha” to bother with a shirt. It’s better than admitting I forgot.

“Mr. Irons,” one of the board members says, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and confusion. “I see you’re… embracing the great outdoors.”

I lean back, my expression flat. “I find it helps me think. Get to the point.”

The man clears his throat, glancing nervously at the others. “Right. Of course. We’re here to discuss the quarterly?—”

I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “Summarize. I don’t have time for small talk.”

They scramble to condense their presentations, their voices stumbling over each other.

I barely listen, my mind still stuck on Reily.

What’s she doing in the cabin right now?

Cleaning? Plotting? Thinking about me? My jaw tightens.

It doesn’t matter. She’s mine to deal with, and I’ll deal with her soon enough.

The meeting drags on, and I growl at the board members to hurry it up. They practically trip over themselves to finish, their faces a mix of admiration and fear. Good. Let them see the beast beneath the billionaire. When the call finally ends, I toss the compad onto the ground and exhale sharply.

Reily. She’s what matters now. I’ll deal with her. And I’ll make sure she never forgets who’s in charge.