Page 28

AVA

T he ruin is a blur of chaos—blaster fire cutting through the air, shouting in multiple languages, the hum of the artifact rising to a near-piercing shriek.

My heart pounds against my ribcage as I duck behind a column, breath ragged and shallow.

The world spins around me, and for a moment, I feel lost.

I glance at the IHC insignias flashing past me on armor I used to dream of wearing. I want to shout at them, to demand they help me regain my place in their ranks. But now, here among these officers, I'm just Ava Marlowe—nothing more than an outcast.

“Lieutenant Marlowe?” A voice cuts through my haze. I turn to see a young officer eyeing me closely.

I almost correct him. I’m not a lieutenant—not officially. Not anymore.

He holds out a pulse grenade. My instincts scream to take it, but hesitation lingers like smoke in the air.

I finally grasp it with shaking fingers, nodding stiffly as adrenaline floods my system.

“Stay low,” he says before diving back into the fray with his partner.

My body moves like a soldier—muscle memory kicking in—but my chest twists like something’s dying inside me because Kairon’s not beside me.

I catch sight of him across the room—a force of nature amidst this whirlwind of violence.

He fights with that terrifying, beautiful grace that seems almost primal; mercs fly off ledges like rag dolls under his strength.

His crimson eyes blaze with fury and focus, yet there’s something deeper—a raw determination that ignites a flicker of hope within me.

We’re fighting for the same thing: survival. But we’re not on the same side.

“Move!” someone shouts nearby, jolting me back into reality as another blaster bolt zings past my ear. I grip the grenade tightly and push forward into the fray.

The chaos swirls around us; officers are falling while others press forward without hesitation. Kairon glances my way briefly—our eyes lock for just a heartbeat—and it’s enough to send warmth flooding through my veins amid all this destruction.

But then he turns away again, plunging back into battle as if nothing exists outside this hellish place.

I duck and roll, adrenaline surging as I take out a mercenary on my flank. He crumples, but my mind drifts, flashing to moments that feel like lifetimes ago.

The way Kairon said my name in the ruin.

His hand on my back as we climbed.

How his silence had shifted from cold to careful.

I can’t pretend none of it happened. The connection hangs between us like an invisible thread, taut and pulsing with everything left unsaid. Leaving him behind isn’t an option. The thought suffocates me.

Nearby, a comm unit crackles to life—Lieutenant Serix Vale barking orders, demanding they secure the artifact and neutralize all hostiles. His voice is sharp, clipped.

Including Reaper threats.

My heart pounds harder, each beat echoing in my ears. I glance around the chaos; faces contorted in determination or fear. Every shot fired feels personal now.

Then the fight shifts.

A figure lunges at me from the right—a Reaper, tall and menacing, jagged blade glinting under the fractured light. I react instinctively; I’m fast, but he’s faster. He knocks my weapon aside with a grunt, and I stumble back, knees scraping against rough stone as panic ignites inside me.

The blade arcs toward me.

Time slows.

But then—like a tempest unleashed, Kairon slams into the attacker with a force that reverberates through the air, sending the assailant crashing violently against a cracked wall.

The resounding impact echoes like thunder in the chaos, and my breath hitches in my throat as I take in the sight of Kairon.

He moves with a lethal precision that seems almost otherworldly; each of his motions is fluid yet powerful, an embodiment of raw, predatory grace.

He drives the Reaper down, forcing him against the ground with one massive knee, pinning him in place with a weight that speaks of both dominance and control.

Kairon presses his blade close enough to the Reaper’s throat that it grazes the skin, a silent threat hanging in the air, yet he refrains from delivering the fatal cut.

“Not her,” Kairon growls, his voice low and fierce, directed at me but without so much as a glance away from his target. The intensity of his gaze is unyielding, and the way he protects me without hesitation sends a shiver down my spine.

The pinned Reaper glances toward me, confusion flickering in his eyes, a brief moment of uncertainty breaking through the chaos.

It’s enough for Kairon to exert his will.

With a sudden surge of strength, the Reaper shrugs Kairon off and leaps back into the fray, rejoining the battle elsewhere within the temple's crumbling confines.

The moment hangs in the air, thick with tension, as I process what just happened—the fierce loyalty Kairon exhibits.

Kairon’s face looms before me, chest heaving with exertion. His crimson eyes search mine, wild and fierce, and for the first time, he’s not just assessing me as a target or an obstacle.

“Are you hurt?”

The question slices through the chaos, sharp and unexpected. Something shatters within me—not from physical pain, but from a deep realization. I’m not merely a soldier on this mission anymore. I’m intertwined with him, tangled in his fate.

I glance around the temple—crumbling walls echoing our fight, shadows stretching ominously under the dim light of the artifact's glow. The air feels electric between us; it crackles with unspoken words and emotions we can’t afford to voice.

He’s mine. And I’m his.

But before I can respond, my instincts scream at me. A flicker of movement across the temple floor catches my eye—a rifle lifting, poised and steady. The insignia gleams in the light; IHC markings unmistakable. A trained soldier with a perfect line of sight aimed right at Kairon.

Panic surges through my veins, sharp and primal.

No time to think.

No time to scream.

I act on instinct.

I throw myself forward without hesitation, my body colliding against his like a desperate shield. The world around us blurs as I brace for impact—every muscle tensing against what’s about to come.

A deafening bang fills the air, followed by a burst of white-hot agony tearing through my side. Fire blooms in my flesh— hot and searing—filling every corner of my consciousness with blinding pain that steals my breath away.

The force of the bullet slams into me like a freight train; I feel myself crumple against Kairon’s solid frame as darkness rushes in, swift and merciless.

Everything fades—the chaos around us dulls into a distant echo, replaced by an oppressive silence that wraps around me like fog.

As I slip away from reality, one thought clings to life in my mind: Kairon’s voice—deep and urgent—calling out my name like it meant something profound.

I hope he knows what it means now.