Page 29

KELLI

T he ship rattles harder than it ought to on approach, metal skin creaking like it’s nervous too.

I press a hand flat against the nearest bulkhead, feeling the vibration roll up my arm.

Traz sits across from me, Aria cradled asleep in his lap, Joren curled stubborn at his side like a little watchdog.

We don’t say much.

Don’t have to.

Every inch closer we get to the ground feels like something old breaking loose in my chest.

Not fear this time.

Something bigger.

Something almost too big to name.

Hope.

Real, solid, terrifying hope.

The view out the scratched port windows is green.

Endless green.

Thick forests stretch as far as the eye can see, broken up by ragged mountains and deep rivers carving across the land like silver veins.

No walls.

No patrols.

No city stink.

Just open sky and wild, roaring life.

I grip the seat tighter as the ship bumps through final descent.

Traz shifts slightly, his big hand resting light on my knee.

The warmth of it settles the nerves jumping wild under my skin.

"We’re here," he says, voice low and steady.

I nod.

Swallow hard.

"Yeah," I whisper. "We are."

Landing kicks up a storm of dirt and broken brush.

The whole ship groans when it touches down, but it holds.

When the ramp lowers, the smell hits me first.

Fresh.

Rich.

Alive.

Dirt and rain and something sharp and wild underneath it all.

I step out slow, blinking against the bright sun.

It isn’t polished.

It isn’t safe.

It’s rough and tangled and real.

And for the first time since I was a kid, I feel like I can actually breathe .

Silpha’s contact—a wiry woman with sun-bleached hair and arms like iron—meets us at the edge of the clearing.

"Name’s Lora," she says, jerking a thumb at the little battered crawler parked behind her. "You’re late."

Traz grunts, shifting Aria higher on his shoulder.

"Had some delays," he says dry.

Lora snorts.

"Always are when you’re ditching past lives."

She scans me up and down, then the kids.

"These your little shadows?"

"Yeah," I say, squaring my shoulders.

She gives a sharp nod.

"Good. Families blend better."

She tosses a battered dataslate to Traz.

"New IDs. Clean. As far as the system’s concerned, you were born here. Always been here."

Traz catches it easy.

"Thanks," he says.

Lora shrugs.

"Thank Silpha. She paid in full before she…"

Her mouth tightens.

She looks away.

The silence stretches sharp and awkward.

Traz clears his throat.

"Property?"

Lora jerks her head toward the crawler.

"One klick that way. Old farmstead. Needs work. Off the grid."

"Perfect," I say, surprising even myself with how fierce it comes out.

Lora smirks.

"Thought you might say that."

The ride out’s rough.

The crawler jostles and creaks over the broken trails, rattling our teeth loose.

Aria squeals with delight every time we bounce.

Joren scowls like he’s gonna kill the vehicle with his bare hands.

Traz keeps a hand braced on the kids the whole way, his other on his blaster, just in case.

I watch the trees roll past.

Tall.

Twisted.

Beautiful.

They reach up toward a sky so blue it hurts.

This place isn’t tame.

Not neat.

Not safe.

But maybe that’s why it feels right.

The farmstead's exactly what Lora promised.

A squat, weather-beaten house squatting at the edge of a field gone wild with waist-high grass and creeping vines.

A barn leaning stubbornly to one side.

A broken fence circling it all like a drunk trying to draw a straight line.

It’s a mess.

A disaster.

And I fall in love the second I see it.

Traz steps out first, scanning the perimeter like he’s expecting ghosts.

Joren clutches his leg, wide-eyed.

Aria toddles off the crawler ramp and trips straight into the dirt, laughing.

I follow her, sinking to my knees in the wild grass, scooping her up and spinning her once.

She shrieks with glee.

Traz watches me, a slow smile pulling at his mouth.

"Think you can fix it up?" he asks.

I glance around at the broken fences, the overgrown fields, the peeling house.

I wipe a smear of dirt across my pants and grin.

"Hell yeah, I can."

He laughs.

For real this time.

A deep, rough sound that shakes something loose in my chest.

Gods, I missed that laugh.

We spend the afternoon hauling supplies off the crawler, making rough plans.

The house needs repairs.

The roof leaks.

The water pump wheezes.

The solar collectors are half-dead.

But it’s ours.

Every broken board.

Every rusted hinge.

Ours.

Silpha's sacrifice paid for this second chance.

And I’ll be damned if I let it slip through my fingers.

Later, after the kids pass out in a nest of blankets we throw together in the front room, I sit on the porch with Traz.

The stars here are bigger.

Brighter.

Like they’re close enough to touch.

Traz hands me a battered mug of something hot and bitter.

I sip it, grimacing.

"What the hell is this?"

"Starter pack," he says, deadpan. "For frontier living."

I snort, bumping his shoulder with mine.

We sit like that, side by side, watching the stars burn cold and fierce overhead.

"You think we’ll make it?" I ask after a while, voice barely above a whisper.

He turns, studying me like I’m the only thing worth looking at in the whole damn universe.

"We already are," he says.

Simple.

Certain.

Solid.

And somehow, I believe him.

The stars are still burning overhead when Traz shifts beside me, pulling something small and rough from his pocket.

I blink, confused.

It’s a ring.

Handmade.

Crude and beautiful, twisted from a strip of salvaged wire, polished smooth by calloused fingers.

My breath catches.

He holds it out, voice low and steady.

"No priest. No papers. Just you and me."

I stare at him, heart hammering so loud I’m sure he can hear it.

"I’m not just your protector," he says, voice rough with feeling. "Not just your mate."

He swallows hard.

"I’m your man. Forever. If you’ll have me."

The world goes soft and sharp all at once.

Tears burn down my cheeks before I can stop them.

I laugh through them, nodding so hard it makes my head spin.

"Yeah," I whisper, choking on it. "Yeah, you stubborn, beautiful bastard. I’ll have you."

Traz slips the ring onto my finger with shaking hands.

He presses his forehead to mine, breathing me in.

And under the endless stretch of stars.

We make a promise no one can ever tear apart.

Not this time.

Not ever.