Page 29

KAIRON

T he moment Ava’s body hits the ground, everything fractures.

I hear the shot before I see her fall. The crack of a rifle—sharp and merciless. I barely register it before I feel the blood on my hands, hot and real and wrong.

My instincts kick in, and I move without thinking. The IHC rifleman goes down in seconds—his body crumples like a puppet with severed strings. I don’t remember doing it; my focus narrows to her.

I drop to my knees beside Ava. Her eyes flutter, hazy and unfocused, as if she’s fighting to stay tethered to this world. Each shallow breath tears at me, but it’s the wound that steals my breath away—too close to her heart. Blood seeps through her fingers where she presses against the injury.

“Ava,” I murmur, urgency clawing at my throat.

She blinks, but the light behind her eyes flickers. I can’t let her slip away.

I try to lift her, but panic threads through me when she doesn’t resist this time. Instead, her head falls against my chest like a broken doll. Blood soaks into my side, warm and pooling, and something inside me snaps.

I run.

Through falling stone and scorched metal, I race for the exit, dodging debris that crashes around us like a storm. But as I near the threshold of freedom, a wave of soldiers emerges from the shadows—IHC reinforcements pouring in like ants disturbed from their nest.

They surround me—more than I can fight alone.

“Step back!” one shouts, weapon raised. His face is familiar—a ghost from another life who should have been dead long ago. A reminder of what I've lost.

“Get out of my way!” My voice roars louder than the chaos around us as adrenaline courses through me like fire. But they don’t budge; they only tighten their formation.

Ava stirs slightly in my arms, eyes fluttering open just enough to lock onto mine. “Kairon…”

“Stay with me.” I grip her tighter, desperation flooding every syllable.

I glance around for an escape route—but there’s nowhere left to go. The temple trembles beneath us as if sensing its imminent destruction. Dust fills the air; smoke thickens like fog rolling in from all sides.

I snarl, shielding Ava’s body with my own. The world narrows to her, the heat of her blood soaking through my clothes. I won’t let them take her.

I spring forward, every muscle coiled like a predator. I’m still a Reaper, still a weapon forged in brutality. I fight—strike out at the soldiers surrounding us. My blade finds flesh, and their shouts mix with the chaos around me.

But then it hits—an electric jolt slamming into my spine. Pain ignites through me, paralyzing every limb. I drop hard, vision blurring as the ground rushes up to meet me.

They’re faster than I expect. I hear her voice—soft and frightened—as they rip her from my grasp.

“Kairon…”

Her whisper cuts through the noise like a knife. I try to reach for her, to pull her back into my arms where she belongs. But they drag her away, and I can’t even move.

Fury burns within me, hot and consuming as they carry her off into the chaos of the jungle beyond. They can have my life—they can take everything—but not Ava. Not her.

My body screams for movement as darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision, but all I feel is helpless rage.

I wake up on my ship, the low hum of machinery and distant laughter flooding my senses.

Blood stains my hands, still warm and sticky, a reminder of everything I’ve lost. The jungle flickers past the viewport—deep green and endless.

I’m high above the ruins now, orbiting a world that no longer feels like home.

My crew surrounds me, celebrating like fools. They’re drunk on their victory—the promise of wealth and power thrumming in their veins. Their voices rise, a cacophony of cheers and jeers that pierce through my foggy thoughts. At the center stands Renn Dravik, grinning wide as if he’s won the galaxy.

“You did it, brother,” he shouts, hand resting on the sealed container that holds the artifact. “You brought us glory.”

I stand slowly, each movement a reminder of how broken I am. My body aches; every muscle screams from the fight—yet it pales against the dull roar in my chest.

I don’t care about the artifact.

I don’t care about glory or power or credits.

Ava is gone.

Her name echoes in my mind like a prayer left unanswered. None of this matters without her. I glare at the container—the source of their delight—and turn to face my crew, my voice low and dangerous.

“I want access.”

Renn blinks at me, confusion creasing his brow. “To what?”

“The device.” My words carry a weight that halts their revelry; they shift uncomfortably under my gaze. “Now.”

I need access.

The words hang in the air, thick with urgency and desperation. Nyra’s brow furrows, confusion etching deeper lines across her face. “Why do you need it?”

I bark out a response, my patience wearing thin. “I don’t need a reason.”

They all look at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Seriously? You don’t even know what that thing does!”

I snap my attention to Renn and grit out, "I need to get her back."

He scoffs, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re risking everything for that human officer you protected during the fight? If you want to get laid we can pick up a nice piece of ass somewhere easier.”

Laughter erupts from the crew, filling the cramped space of the ship with mocking echoes. Each chuckle stabs at my resolve, inflaming a rage I barely keep contained.

I surge forward, grabbing Renn by the neck and hoisting him out of his seat like he weighs nothing.

“She is my Jalshagar.” My voice drops to a growl, low and primal, each word tearing from me with a force that rattles my bones. “She’s my mate. And I will burn every system that stands between us.”

Silence blankets the room.

The laughter dies abruptly.

Half the crew falters—uneasy glances exchanged among them as they shrink back from the tension sparking in the air. Some slink away into shadows, whispering about old codes and ancient madness in my eyes.

But a few remain. The ones who remember what I was before exile, before shame twisted my identity into something unrecognizable.

I turn to them, scanning their faces for understanding or support.

“Help me,” I say, voice steadying into something resolute. “Or get off this ship.”

The weight of those words hangs heavy in the air—a challenge thrown down at their feet.

A few hearts beat faster; I can see it in their wide eyes—the recognition of purpose returning like a long-lost companion. They know what I’m asking for isn’t just loyalty but something deeper—a connection forged through bloodshed and survival.

Nyra steps forward, her expression shifting from disbelief to fierce determination. “You’re serious about this?”

“More than anything,” I reply, holding her gaze until she nods slowly.

Renn still dangles in my grip but he meets my stare now—not with arrogance but calculation.

“Fine,” he mutters finally. “Let’s see if she's worth it.”

I drop him back into his seat and turn to face the rest of the crew once more. The choice has been made; now we must reclaim what is ours—together or apart.