Page 27 of The Monster's Daughter

Night drops like a curtain, the canyon lit only by slivers of moon and the soft glow of portable heaters. The recovery team sets up camp by the ship, tired voices murmuring, the smell of reheated rations wafting through the air.

I wait, sitting stiff beside Kage while a Vakutan medic rewraps the cut on my arm. He’s polite, efficient, but his eyes flick nervously to my “defector” every few seconds.

As soon as the sentries settle into their patterns, I tap Kage’s leg under the blanket. “Now,” I breathe.

We move like shadows.

He takes the lead, carrying the supplies on one shoulder as easily as if they’re nothing. I slip behind him, heart hammering, counting the steps between each sentry’s glance, every hum of a scanner. We weave through the dark like we’ve been doing it for years.

When we’re far enough, I risk a glance back. The camp’s heater glows faint, a warm dot against the cold cliffs. My chest feels hollow.

I’m lying to everyone. My people. Kage. Myself.

But I can’t let them take him.

Not now. Not when he’s become… whatever he’s become to me.

We find a grotto hidden behind a curtain of icicles. Inside, the stone walls glitter with frost, and water drips slow from a crack above, the sound echoing like a heartbeat.

Kage sets the packs down, his massive frame filling the space. I lean against the wall, breathing hard, my pulse still racing.

“You lied,” he says, voice low.

“I know.” My laugh comes out shaky. “Story of my life.”

He studies me, head tilting, silver eyes catching the faint light from my wrist console. “Why?”

I pick at a loose thread on my sleeve, not meeting his gaze. “Because they’d take you. Because you’d vanish into some black-site lab or tribunal room and I’d never see you again. Because…”

“Because?” His voice softens.

“Because I didn’t want to lose you,” I whisper.

The words hang between us, heavier than the cold.

Kage steps closer, slow, deliberate. His claws brush the wall near my head, not touching me, but caging me in with heat. “You won’t,” he says, low and rough. “Not unless you want to.”

I can’t breathe. I don’t want to breathe.

So I reach for the holoprojector in my pack and thumb it on. Fake stars scatter across the grotto’s ceiling, blue-white and glimmering like the real sky we can’t see. The illusion casts Kage in ghostlight, silver patterns shimmering across his scales.

“It’s stupid,” I murmur. “Old training tool. Helps calm recruits during simulations.”

“It’s beautiful,” he says.

I step closer, the fake starlight catching in his eyes. “Yeah,” I whisper. “It is.”

And then I kiss him.

It’s not careful. It’s not polite. It’s like tearing open a wound and finding fire inside. He kisses back, claws flexing at my hips, his mouth hot and rough against mine. The cold air vanishes, replaced by heat so intense it makes me dizzy.

I press my forehead to his, breath ragged. “This doesn’t mean?—”

“I know,” he murmurs. But his arms tighten anyway, holding me like I’m something precious he’s terrified to break.

Under fake stars, with smoke still clinging to our clothes and the taste of blood and metal on our tongues, I kiss him again.

Because maybe this is the end of the world.