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I kept to the shadows of the doorway, every muscle in my scarred body still humming with battle-readiness despite the sentinel drones’ deactivation.

The scent of ozone and hot metal hung in the air, mingling with Everly’s sweet human fragrance that somehow cut through everything else.

My eyes never left her as she stood before the ancient console, her small fingers dancing across technology that should have been incomprehensible to her.

Yet she commanded it like she’d been born to it.

Perhaps, in some strange way across dimensions and time, she had been.

“We need to secure the perimeter,” Zehn said, his golden eyes scanning the hallway behind us. “There might be more sentinel units the system hasn’t deactivated.”

I nodded, reluctant to leave Everly but knowing he was right. The protective instinct that had driven me to tear through metal with my bare hands still pulsed beneath my skin. “I’ll take the east wing,” I offered, my voice rough from disuse and battle roars.

Everly turned from the console, her dark eyes finding mine with an intensity that made my heart stutter in my chest. “Be careful,” she said. “I’ve disabled the main systems, but there might be autonomous units operating on independent power sources.”

The concern in her voice for me—scarred, damaged, hybridized me—sent an unfamiliar warmth spreading through my chest. I dipped my head in acknowledgment, not trusting myself to speak again.

“We’ll regroup here in thirty minutes,” Zehn directed, already moving toward the west corridor with the fluid grace of a natural predator. Despite our differences, I respected his tactical mind. He’d survived countless battles as a Legion Reaper—it showed in every calculated movement.

I moved through the eastern corridors with careful precision, my heightened senses alert for any mechanical sounds or movement.

The facility was vast, its architecture both alien and strangely familiar.

Smooth metallic surfaces gave way to organic curves, as if the building itself had grown rather than been constructed.

Overhead lighting flickered intermittently, casting long shadows that danced across the walls.

Each room I checked revealed more mysteries. Laboratories filled with equipment I couldn’t name. Chambers with suspended animation pods, long emptied of whatever had once occupied them. Storage units containing materials that seemed to shift and change when viewed from different angles.

In one chamber, I discovered three sentinel drones, their mechanical limbs frozen mid-movement like morbid sculptures.

They hadn’t been deactivated with the others.

Their optical sensors still glowed with a faint red light, tracking my movement as I entered the room.

Trapped in place by whatever command Everly had given, but still aware. Still watching.

I approached cautiously, claws extended.

These machines had tried to kill us—tried to kill Everly.

My lips pulled back in a silent snarl at the thought.

With precise movements, I located the power source on the first drone and disabled it permanently, plunging my claws into the core mechanism.

The red light in its sensors faded to black.

I repeated the process with the other two, satisfaction rumbling in my chest as each one powered down.

“Khaaz,” Zehn’s voice came through the communicator Everly had found for us in the facility’s supplies. “Status report.”

“Three sentinels neutralized,” I replied, my voice low. “Otherwise clear so far.”

“Same here. Two non-functional units found but no active threats. Meet back at central command.”

I made my way back through the corridors, my steps lighter knowing that Everly would be safer now.

The scent of her grew stronger as I approached the central room, pulling me forward like an invisible tether.

When I entered, she was leaning over the console, her dark hair falling forward to frame her face as she studied the screen with intense concentration.

Zehn stood nearby, his massive form positioned protectively between her and the door.

His ears twitched as I entered, acknowledging my presence without taking his eyes off Everly.

It was a dance we’d fallen into—both of us orbiting her like twin moons around a planet, pulled by forces we couldn’t resist.

“Find anything interesting?” I asked, keeping my distance despite wanting to move closer.

Everly looked up, her face lighting with excitement. “So much. This facility wasn’t just a research station—it was a dimensional waypoint. A place where the Kridrin could monitor and interact with multiple realities.”

I moved closer, curiosity overcoming my habitual caution. “How is that possible?”

“According to these records, the Kridrin mastered dimensional travel years ago. They discovered that certain points in space-time were naturally thin—places where the barriers between dimensions could be crossed more easily.” Her fingers traced patterns on the screen, pulling up images and text that shifted and changed as she touched them.

“This facility sits on one of those points.”

“There’s more,” Everly continued, her excitement making her words tumble out faster. “The archives mention that the Kridrin gave Legion Command problems about five years ago. Something about infiltrating a Legion colony vessel?”

Zehn’s ears perked up. “I remember that. I was patrolling the outer reaches near void space when there was a distress beacon and all Reaper units were called in briefly. The action ended before I got there.” He scrolled through his interface to pull up data.

“Yes, here it is. A previously unknown species appeared with technology that outmatched anything in the Legion’s arsenal. They nearly overtook Legion command.”

“You fought them?” Everly asked.

“No,” Zehn shook his head. “But it seemed like a hell of a battle. A few Legion Reapers collapsed their wormhole, keeping them in void space for good.”

“Five years ago,” I wondered. “That could have been when the engineers retreated as well. Do they still have working comms? Surely there’s a way for them to communicate?”

“Possibly,” Everly said, turning back to the console. “If this facility was a waypoint, it might have communication capabilities. Let me see...”

As she worked, I moved around the room, checking the remaining sentinel drones we’d dragged inside.

They lay in broken heaps, their mechanical limbs twisted at unnatural angles.

I began methodically stripping them for parts that might be useful—power cells, weapons components, metal plating that could be repurposed.

“You’re thinking of staying here,” Zehn observed, coming to stand beside me.

It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “It’s defensible. Remote. The technology is operational.” I glanced toward Everly. “And she can control it.”

Zehn nodded slowly. “A good shelter until we decide our next move. But we’ll need supplies.”

“Everything we need is here,” I said. “This facility was meant to be self-sufficient. There were rations and supplies readily available.”

“Found it!” Everly called out, drawing our attention back to the console. “The communication array is operational, but it’s limited to specific frequencies. It looks like it was designed to contact other Kridrin outposts.”

“Can it be modified?” Zehn asked, moving toward her.

“I think so,” she replied, her fingers already working at the controls. “The basic principles are similar to systems I’ve worked with before. If I can recalibrate the quantum resonance pattern...”

Her technical explanation continued, filled with terms I didn’t understand.

But I understood the determination in her voice, the fierce intelligence that had already saved us multiple times.

As I watched her work, the realization hit me with unexpected force: our mission was over.

We had escaped capture. We had found shelter. The immediate danger had passed.

So what was my purpose now?

For years, I had existed solely to survive—first as a test subject, then as a weapon.

Every decision, every action had been driven by the immediate need to stay alive and free.

Now, standing in this abandoned facility with no pursuers at our heels and no clear objective ahead, I felt unmoored. Adrift.

The sensation was so unfamiliar that at first I mistook it for physical pain. I moved away from Zehn and Everly, retreating to the far side of the room where the shadows were deeper. My claws extended and retracted unconsciously, scoring faint lines in the metal wall behind me.

What was I without a mission? Without an enemy to fight or a threat to evade?

The genetic tampering that had created me had designed me for combat, for survival in hostile environments.

Not for... this. Not for peace. Not for the strange domesticity that seemed to be developing between the three of us.

And certainly not for the feelings that stirred whenever Everly looked at me with those dark, knowing eyes.

“Khaaz?” Her voice pulled me from my thoughts. She had moved from the console and now stood before me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her small human form. “What’s wrong?”

I looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” she said, the harshness of the word contrasting with the softness of her voice. “You’ve been brooding in this corner for ten minutes. Talk to me.”

I risked a glance at her face and found no fear there, no disgust at my scarred appearance. Only concern and something else—something warmer that made my chest tighten.

“I don’t know what happens now,” I admitted, the words feeling raw in my throat. “The mission is complete. We’re safe. I don’t...” I struggled to articulate the emptiness I felt. “I don’t know my purpose anymore.”

Everly’s expression shifted, a flash of understanding followed by something fiercer. “Your purpose? Is that all you think you are? A weapon with a mission?”

Her words hit with unexpected force. I’d never considered myself as anything else.

“You need to get over yourself,” she continued, stepping even closer. “You’re not just some experiment, some tool to be used and discarded. You’re a person, Khaaz. A person with choices and desires and a future that’s yours to decide.”

I stared at her, stunned by the passion in her voice. “I don’t know how to be that,” I confessed, the admission costing me more than I’d expected.

“Neither do I,” she said, her voice softening. “I spent years letting my job define me, working myself to exhaustion because I didn’t know who I was without it. But when everything fell apart, I discovered there was still a person underneath all that. You will too.”

Before I could respond, she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to mine.

The kiss was gentle, brief, but it sent a shock wave through my entire body.

Her scent enveloped me, her warmth seeped into my skin, and for one breathless moment, everything else fell away—my past, my fears, my uncertainty.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed but her eyes were steady. “That’s a start,” she murmured. “Figure out what you want, Khaaz. Not what you were made for. What you want.”

As she turned and walked back to the console where Zehn waited, his expression unreadable, I raised my fingers to my lips, still feeling the phantom pressure of her kiss. For the first time in my existence, I allowed myself to consider her words.

What did I want?

The answer came with surprising clarity: I wanted this. This shelter we were creating. This strange companionship with Zehn that balanced between rivalry and respect. And most of all, I wanted Everly—not just to protect, but to be with. To learn from. To become more than what I had been made to be.

It wasn’t a mission or a purpose in the way I was accustomed to. It was something both simpler and infinitely more complex.

It was a beginning.