Page 45 of The Warlord's Secret Heir

And I realize—I’m still his weakness.

And he’s still mine.

CHAPTER 14

KYLDAK

Ican’t think. I can’tstop looking at her.

Every nerve I’ve got is a live wire, every heartbeat a hammer strike. She’s here. Inmycamp. Inmyworld. Sitting across from me like she didn’t just crawl out of a ghost story and set fire to everything I’ve built.

The air feels too thick. Too loud. I can hear every sound — the low thrum of the generators outside, the hiss of the sandstorm dying beyond the wall, the creak of her chair when she shifts just to put more distance between us.

She won’t look at me.

Fine. I look enough for both of us.

Her hair’s shorter. Burned at the ends. Her hands are bandaged — badly, the way you do when you’ve been patching yourself up on the run. There’s a bruise under her jaw, another dark one at her wrist. I see the tremor in her fingers when she thinks I’m not watching.

She’s exhausted. Filthy. Furious.

Still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

And I hate it. I hateherfor it. But I hatememore.

I’ve faced death in half a dozen forms, and none of them looked at me the way she does — like she’s both measuring and mourning me in the same breath.

I drag a hand down my face, exhale through my teeth, and shove the plate of ration cubes toward her. “Eat.”

She doesn’t even glance up. “Not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten since the crash.”

“Then I’m getting good at fasting.”

I clench my jaw. “You’ll eat.”

She finally looks at me. “You gonna force-feed me too,Red Eye?” The nickname drips sarcasm, like venom sweetened by memory. “What’s next — branding? Shackles? Or do you save that for the locals?”

Her words hit harder than any blade. I remind myself she doesn’t know this world. She doesn’t know what I’ve done to survive it.

Still, the fire in her voice, the way she bites through fear with spite — I remember that. Imissedthat.

“Jaela,” I start.

“Don’t,” she snaps. “Don’t say my name like we’re still something.”

I grip the edge of the table until the metal bends. The sound makes her flinch, just barely.

“Something?” I echo. “Weweresomething. You don’t crawl into a man’s bed every night for three months and then call it nothing.”

She rises from the chair, trembling with exhaustion and fury. “We were stupid,” she says. “We were temporary. You knew that.”

I laugh — low, bitter. “No. I didn’t know that. You made damn sure Ididn’t.”

Her lip trembles, but she bites it before it turns into something weaker. “You think I came here for this? Foryou?”

“Then why?” I growl. “Why risk your life to fly into this hellhole? What, the Alliance send you? You here to finish the job? To watch the monster you built finally eat his own bones?”