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“They stole more than just genetic material,” I confirmed.

“The shield modulators should work with your gauntlet, allowing you to extend protection over a wider area. And this—” I held up a small metallic cylinder, “—is a molecular scrambler. Short range, but it will disable most electronic surveillance within twenty meters.”

Zehn turned the cylinder in his massive hands, examining it with the practiced eye of a warrior who has used countless weapons. “Useful. What else did you find?”

I hesitated, then reached into an inner pocket of the pack, removing a data crystal. “Information. About the experiments. About me.” I met his gaze unflinchingly. “And about the compatibility testing they were doing with human DNA.”

That caught his full attention. His eyes narrowed, suddenly intense. “Human compatibility? With Rodinian genetics?”

“Yes.” I placed the crystal carefully on the rock.

“I’ve only had time to skim the surface data, but they were specifically testing theories about human hybridization.

They believed there was something unique about human genetics that might stabilize the more volatile aspects of the other species they were incorporating. ”

“And did it?”

I gestured to my scarred body, my too-bright eyes. “Partially. I survived where others didn’t. Whether that was due to the human DNA components or simply genetic luck, I can’t say for certain.”

Zehn was quiet for a long moment, processing the implications.

“Humans have been used by many for their malleability. Many have been both heart mates and fate mates to Rodinians over the years. Perhaps this is the reason the universe has chosen Everly as our fate mate. If there’s already a genetic compatibility. ..”

I didn’t allow myself to react to Zehn referring to Everly as “ours.” “Perhaps.” I began organizing the equipment, separating what we would carry from what we would leave behind.

“Or perhaps the universe simply has a cruel sense of humor, binding a human to two males of a species she never knew existed until days ago.”

Zehn’s expression softened slightly. “She recognized you. When she first saw you, she knew your name.”

The memory sent an uncomfortable warmth through me. “A trick of the unity dream. Nothing more.”

“The design of the unity dream.” Zehn leaned forward, his massive frame suddenly imposing despite our similar heights. “You feel the bond as strongly as I do. Perhaps more strongly, given what was done to you.”

I didn’t answer immediately, focusing instead on packing the salvaged tech into more manageable bundles. “What I feel is irrelevant. The choice will be hers, as it should be. And we both know what that choice will be.”

“Do we?” There was something in Zehn’s voice I couldn’t identify—not challenge, not exactly, but something adjacent to it.

I looked up at him, allowing a hint of my frustration to show. “Look at me, Zehn. Look at what they made me. I’m not even fully Rodinian anymore. I’m a patchwork of species, held together by experimental gene therapy and stubborn refusal to die. Why would she choose this when she could have you?”

Zehn’s expression didn’t change, but I caught the subtle shift in his scent—surprise, mixed with something almost like...approval?

“You underestimate yourself, brother,” he said quietly. “And you underestimate her.”

Before I could respond, we both tensed, alerted by the same sound—Everly returning from the pond. She emerged from the treeline looking considerably more composed, her hair wet and slicked back from her face, her clothing adjusted as best as possible given its torn state.

Her eyes skipped over us both, landing on the fire and the roasting meat. “That smells incredible,” she said, her voice carefully neutral, as if the earlier encounter had never happened.

“Khaaz hunted for us,” Zehn replied, his tone casual but his eyes watchful. “And he’s brought some useful equipment from the lab.”

She glanced at me then, a quick, almost shy look that sent an inexplicable jolt through my system. “Thank you,” she said softly.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The air between the three of us felt charged, unbalanced, full of things unsaid. She was poised at the edge of a decision she didn’t fully understand yet, one that would affect all our lives irrevocably.

I turned back to the fire, adjusting the meat to cook evenly. “We should eat and move out within the hour,” I said, keeping my voice professional, detached. “If we maintain a steady pace, we can reach the black site facility by nightfall.”

“And then what?” Everly asked, settling on a rock near the fire, careful to keep distance between herself and both of us.

I met her gaze steadily. “Then we find a way to get you off this planet. Somewhere safe, beyond the Engineer’s reach.”

What I didn’t say—what I couldn’t say—was that if she left, if she rejected the bond, both Zehn and I would eventually succumb to the deliria amoranta.

The madness that claimed unmated Rodinians whose fate mates denied them.

But that was our burden to bear, not hers.

Her freedom to choose was paramount, even if that choice meant our destruction.

“And if this black site isn’t abandoned?” she asked, echoing Zehn’s earlier question.

I allowed myself a small, grim smile. “Then we do what we were made for.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she nodded, accepting the reality of our situation with a courage that made something in my chest twist painfully.

“Eat,” I said, softer now. “The day ahead will be challenging.”

As she reached for the offered meat, her fingers briefly brushed mine.

The contact was electric, sending a shock wave through my system that I struggled to conceal.

Her scent, clean from the pond but still underscored with the lingering traces of her earlier arousal, filled my nostrils.

The bond between us hummed like a plucked string, resonant and impossible to ignore.

For a moment, just a moment, I allowed myself to imagine what it might be like if she chose both of us. If the impossible became possible. Then I pushed the thought away, burying it beneath layers of practicality and self-preservation.

I had survived this long by acknowledging reality, not indulging in fantasy. And the reality was that no matter what the universe had decreed, some things were simply too broken to be chosen.