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AVA

D arkness. Cold.

I blink awake to sterile light searing my retinas.

The air feels wrong—dry and lifeless after the humid embrace of the jungle.

My body screams in protest as I try to move, pain slicing through my midsection like a hot knife.

I gasp, feeling the tightness of medical bandages wrapping around my ribs.

My wrists are bound in high-grade shackles bolted to the wall.

No uniform. Just a plain IHC-issued detainee suit clinging to my skin, reminding me of who I’ve become—a prisoner, a traitor.

I force myself to breathe in slowly, every inhale a reminder of my vulnerability.

My first thought is of Kairon—his fierce gaze, the way he fought for me without hesitation.

The second is regret—should’ve stayed away from him, should’ve kept my distance.

The door hisses open, and my heart sinks.

A man enters—not a soldier but worse: an IHC interrogator. He wears a gray coat that blends into the sterile environment, his pale face devoid of any warmth or humanity. A tablet rests in his hand, ready for whatever cruel game he intends to play.

He doesn’t greet me.

Doesn’t even use my name.

“Explain your involvement with the Reaper,” he states flatly, eyes cold and calculating. “And what you know of the artifact.”

Silence fills the room like smoke, thick and suffocating.

I say nothing.

He circles me like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You protected him,” he continues, voice smooth yet laced with accusation. “Took a shot for him.”

His words twist inside me—a mixture of pride and anger at my own choices.

He leans closer, his breath warm against my cheek as he narrows his gaze. “You understand what that implies, don’t you?”

I clench my jaw tightly, resisting the urge to respond. The last thing I need is to show weakness now.

“You betrayed your own people, Marlowe.”

Each word lands like a punch to my gut. Betrayal?

They don’t know the half of it—the bond forged in fire and chaos that I can’t explain even if I wanted to.

My thoughts drift back to Kairon—the way he held me close when everything fell apart—and for a fleeting moment, I wonder if they’ll let him suffer for this too.

“I’m not answering your questions,” I finally say through gritted teeth.

His expression shifts slightly—irritation flickering beneath his calm facade.

“We’ll see about that.”

I brace for the impact, my heart hammering in my chest.

The interrogator leans down, his breath hot against my ear.

“You’re just another Marlowe,” he whispers, the venom dripping from each word. “Following in the footsteps of your father and brother—both failures. Your family’s legacy is one of disgrace.”

My heart drops. The memories flood back like a tidal wave, drowning me in regret and anger. I remember the day they executed my father—his defiance, the way he stood tall even as they dragged him to his fate. The gunfire echoes in my mind, a cruel reminder of how their choices shaped mine.

Then there’s my brother, taken from me too soon, his death shrouded in lies and uncertainty. I was only a child when they told me he had died in action—a hero, they said. But what did that even mean? I never got to see him again; never got to say goodbye.

A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of their names echoing through these walls—the weight of their legacies hanging over me like a noose.

“Look at you,” the interrogator continues, voice dripping with disdain. “Hiding behind your uniform, pretending you belong here when you don’t. You think you can change that? You’re just as weak as they were.”

His words slice through me, sharp and unforgiving. I swallow hard, trying to keep the bile rising in my throat at bay.

I wanted so badly to be different—to rise above their failures and prove that Marlowes could succeed within the IHC. Instead, I find myself shackled here, waiting for my fate while clinging to fleeting memories of who I was meant to be.

“Do you even understand what’s at stake?” he sneers. “You could’ve had a future—a real future—if you’d just kept your distance from that Reaper.”

But now… it feels inevitable. The walls close in around me as despair grips my heart like an iron vice. My vision blurs as tears threaten to spill; if I allow them to fall, I’ll shatter into pieces.

I take a shaky breath, forcing myself to look him in the eye. But inside? Inside, dread coils tight—a whisper that says this might be it: I’m going to die just like them.

I don’t have time to respond before the lights flicker—a quick blink of uncertainty. Then a violent boom rattles the very foundation of this hellhole. The sirens wail like banshees, flashing red lights casting everything in a frantic glow.

The interrogator straightens, eyes wide. His comm crackles to life, panic spilling through the static.

“Hull breach—sector four. We’re under attack!”

Before I can process what that means, a guard bursts into the room, wild-eyed and frantic.

“No time—execute the traitor now!”

My blood turns cold as they yank me from my knees, chains clanking as they drag me through the chaos of flickering corridors and blaring alarms.

“Let me go!” I scream, kicking out with every ounce of strength left in my battered body. But my cries dissolve into the madness around us; no one cares. They haul me down twisting hallways that pulse with red light and fear.

The guards push me into the central hold, a vast space lined with steel beams and ominous arc lamps buzzing overhead. My eyes dart around, searching for any chance of escape—but hope dies quickly when I spot the execution platform in the center.

A high-ranking officer stands there, arms crossed over his chest, indifference painted on his face as if he’s already written me off as dead. He used to inspire respect within me—now he embodies everything I despise.

They shove me to my knees on the cold metal floor, the chill biting into my skin.

A deep voice resonates from behind me—someone is charging their weapon.

I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing my fear.

Memories flood back—the warmth of Kairon’s presence beside me in that jungle camp, his fierce gaze as he fought for survival against impossible odds.

My breath catches at the thought of him; would he come for me?

Would he break through this hellish nightmare?

The world fades to silence as I prepare for the end, my heartbeat slowing, teeth clenched.

“Do it already!” someone demands, the tension sharp enough to cut.

And then?—

Light.

Not the clinical kind.

Blinding. Warm. Gold.

A sound like ripping thunder tears through the air behind me.

Gasps. Screams.

I blink, squinting against the brightness, my heart racing as I turn?—

A portal. Splitting space open like a wound.

Then Kairon steps through.

Bloodied. Bruised. Breathless. His weapon gleams in his hand, and his eyes lock onto mine with a fierce intensity that ignites something deep within me.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Before anyone else can react, he moves like a storm unleashed.

The first shot echoes through the hold, taking out the officer before he even registers what’s happening.

The second slams into a guard who barely gets his weapon raised.

Kairon slices down the last man standing between us with ruthless efficiency, his presence commanding the room as if he owns it.

Then he’s there—kneeling, unfastening my shackles with deft fingers that brush my skin, sending jolts of warmth radiating through me. He cups my face, searching my eyes as if he needs to ensure I’m really here.

“You came back,” I whisper, disbelief flooding my voice.

His expression softens but stays fierce. “Yes. You're mine.”

My pulse races at the certainty in his tone. Before we can be surrounded again by reinforcements, I grip his arm, urgency flooding through me like electricity.

“There’s a second artifact?—”

He glances toward the vault corridor for just a moment, then back at me—his gaze burning with fierce determination.

“On this ship,” I add quickly, adrenaline thrumming in my veins. “If we take it—together—we’re unstoppable.”

Kairon laughs—a low, rough sound that fills me with unexpected warmth amidst chaos as he cups my face again, thumb brushing over my cheekbone with an intimacy that steals my breath away.

"Fuck, Ava. You're perfect," he murmurs softly before straightening up and scanning our surroundings.

The remnants of battle swirl around us—fallen bodies sprawled on the floor and alarm lights flashing ominously overhead—but none of it matters now; all that matters is him and this moment where everything shifts.

Together, we run.