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I pressed my back against Iria’s, counting heartbeats between plasma bursts. Six mercenaries, tactical formation, military-grade weapons. This wasn’t a random attack or local thugs. These killers came prepared.

“Any brilliant ideas?” Iria asked, her shoulder blades firm against mine.

The table we’d overturned provided minimal cover. Each new volley of blaster fire chipped away at our barrier. Metal fragments scattered across the floor with every hit. The air burned with ozone and scorched metal.

“You take left, I take right?” she suggested, already adjusting her grip on her blaster.

I shook my head. “They’re waiting for that. Six against two—conventional tactics won’t work.”

A bolt struck dangerously close, forcing us lower.

“Well, I’m open to unconventional ones,” Iria muttered.

I analyzed the firing pattern, the positions I could make out through the dust and smoke. Three on the far side, two flanking, one positioned higher for better angles. They’d set up a standard crossfire, expecting us to either make a break for the exit or try to pick them off one by one.

“Cover me,” I said, tightening the weapon strap across my chest. “I’ll circle around the right side. When you see me engage, take the two on the left. Don’t hesitate.”

Iria nodded, pulling a second blaster from her boot. “Go.”

I rolled from behind our cover, drawing fire immediately.

Iria responded with rapid shots, forcing the mercenaries to duck.

My Vinduthi reflexes gave me the edge as I sprinted toward a fallen support beam, sliding beneath it and coming up firing.

The first merc never saw me. The second barely turned before my blade caught him across the throat.

Across the room, Iria held her own better than most trained fighters would. Her shots weren’t precise like military training would produce—they were intuitive, unpredictable. One mercenary dropped, clutching his shoulder. Another scrambled for new cover after she’d destroyed his position.

As I dispatched the third target, I caught a flicker of movement. A small metal sphere rolled across the floor—grenade.

I moved without thought, diving toward Iria and tackling her to the ground as the explosion ripped through the bunker.

The concussive force slammed into my back.

I curled my body around hers, shielding her from the shrapnel with my larger frame.

Pain lanced through my shoulder, but I registered it as minor—my body would heal.

When the dust settled, the ringing in my ears faded enough to recognize the absence of blaster fire. One heartbeat. Two. Silence stretched between us.

Iria lay beneath me, chest rising and falling rapidly. Her hair had come loose from its tie, fanning out against the metal floor. Her eyes met mine, wider than usual, searching my face with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.

“You really enjoy throwing yourself on top of me, don’t you?” she asked, her mouth quirking up at one corner.

“You make it difficult not to,” I replied, surprised by the softness in my own voice.

I became acutely aware of every point where our bodies connected—my arms braced on either side of her head, her knee pressed against my thigh, the heat of her radiating through both our clothes. The mission, the mercenaries, the data chip—all of it fell away for just a moment.

With a gentleness I rarely allowed myself, I brushed a strand of auburn hair from her face, my fingers lingering against her cheek. Her skin felt impossibly soft beneath my calloused touch.

“You’re reckless, infuriating...” The words came unbidden. “And I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Her breath caught. Something shifted in her expression—surprise, vulnerability, desire—I watched her pulse flutter at her neck. Her eyes dropped to my mouth, and I felt my own control fracturing.

My fingers traced the line of her jaw. For the first time in years, I wanted something beyond duty, beyond orders. I wanted her.

Footsteps thumped in the corridor beyond.

Iria heard it too—the sound of approaching reinforcements. The spell broke. I rose to my feet, pulling Iria up with me. My hand held hers, fingers twined.

“We’re not done with this,” I told her, voice firm with promise.

She nodded once, eyes still holding that flash of heat that had been there moments before. She checked her blaster charge. “Are we done here?”

We moved with newfound synchronicity through the bunker corridors. Where before we had worked as separate units with the same goal, now we functioned as one unit. Iria seemed to anticipate which direction I’d choose at each junction. I knew when she needed cover fire without her asking.

Two more mercenaries appeared at the end of the hallway. Before I could warn her, Iria ducked, giving me a clear shot over her head. I took them both down with controlled bursts.

“Nice shooting,” she said, flashing me a quick grin that did strange things to my chest.

“Nice ducking.”

We reached the surface access tunnel. Dust filled the air as the door cycled open, revealing the wasteland of Velaxis Prime.

The once-thriving colony now stretched before us, buildings half-collapsed under the weight of war.

The red sun hung low over the horizon, casting long shadows across the ruins.

Iria caught her breath, leaning against the doorway. A cut above her eye had begun to bleed, trailing a thin line down her temple. I stepped closer, taking the medkit from her belt.

“Hold still,” I instructed, applying antiseptic.

She winced but remained in place. “Thought you got hit back there,” she said, eyes flicking to my shoulder.

Her gaze flickered to my shoulder where shrapnel had torn through my armor. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s minor. Already closing,” I said, noting her surprise as she watched the wound begin to seal itself. “Vinduthi heal differently than humans.”

Her fingers reached out, hesitantly, then touched the edge of the closing wound. “That’s... handy.”

“It has its advantages.”

She looked up at me, hand still resting lightly on my shoulder. “Is that why you were so quick to play the hero? Throw yourself on grenades?”

“I wasn’t playing anything,” I said, my voice rougher than intended.

The data chip pressed against my leg in my pocket. I retrieved it, turning it over in my hand. “Krenis didn’t die for nothing. This chip better have the answers we need.”

Iria studied me, her expression cautious. “And if it doesn’t?”

“Then we find out who set us up,” I answered quietly. “No matter the cost.”

She nodded, turning toward where the Starfall waited in the distance, a small silhouette against the dying sun. I caught her arm before she could step away.

“I meant what I said back there,” I murmured. “You’re more than I expected.”

Iria looked at my hand on her arm, then back at my face. Instead of pulling away as I half-expected, her lips softened into a slight smile.

“Come on, Lieutenant. Let’s see what that chip is worth.”

Whatever was on this chip, whatever came next, one thing had become clear to me: Iria Jann had become more important than the mission. And for a Vinduthi warrior, that was a dangerous revelation indeed.