Page 84 of Ravaged By the Reaper

I nod once. “Then keep your people steady. If this falls apart, it falls fast.”

“And you?”

“I’ll hold the line.”

The comm panel next to the chamber flashes. My pulse jumps. But it’s just a status update—encrypted call still active. No breach. No distress.

But stars, Ifeelit.

The undercurrent. The weight of the moment. Like the universe is holding its breath.

Trust me.

I suck in air, sharp and bitter. The station stinks of tension—burnt wiring, ozone, sweat, and fear. My armor feels too tight. My skin itches with restraint.

I press my forehead to the cold metal of the door.

“You better be winning in there, Amara,” I mutter. “Because I can’t stand out here forever.”

But I will.

If she asks.

Because that’s what this is now. Not war. Not conquest.

It’s loyalty.

And stars help anyone who ever threatens her again.

She steps through the door with the calm of dawn after a storm—pale, steady, magnetic. My ribs tremble at the sight of her composure, like the hum of armor shutting after battle. I brace myself, sure I’ll need to hold her up, but she stands alone, unwavering.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” her voice is low, honeyed, but bleeding steel. “I bring terms.”

Silence snaps sharp—like a stiletto through the stale command bridge air. My jaw clenches against the surge of adrenaline threatening to make me lunge forward. But I don’t move. I only watch.

Malem’s hologram shimmers behind her. He’s still there, the Crown Prince of Carnage, and somehow… still listening.

She lays it out clean.

“Coalition fleet will withdraw—empty-handed. Those bounties on my head? Consider them erased. And Commander Karag,” she inclines toward Malem, voice steady as midnight glass, “I grant you one privilege: you get to live.”

A bead of ice slides down my spine. I swallow, throat dry.

There’s a slow ripple of incredulous laughter. Panaka’s drink clinks—his amusement raw, like he’d never expected victory, just entertainment.

Yentil bursts into applause—short, fierce. Others follow. The room fractures into chaos. Adversaries meeting eyes, mouths hanging open. Some are grinning. Some are reeling.

I... say nothing.

I don’t need to.

Because what she’s done is bigger than words. She didn't just broker peace. She commanded life—hers, mine, ours.

I step forward, boots echoing like rolling thunder. I can taste blood in my mouth, smooth and metallic. I reach her side and for a moment all I want to do is pull her close and never let go. But I don’t.

Instead, I kneel down—gesture born of loyalty, not obligation. It’s how Reapers honor warriors, and gods help me, she earned it. My armor shifts, breathing metal and ember. I’m bigger than her—built for war. But this moment? Still hers.

“Thank you,” I rasp. Not aloud—just inside. I keep my lips glued shut.