Page 15

Chapter15

TOR’VEK RETURNED to the stream, washing more thoroughly, especially the wounds he’d acquired that continued to bleed. The silence wrapped around him like a second skin. Cool. Heavy. Unforgiving.

He had almost struckher.

He had come within a breath of harming the one thing tethering him to what remained of his sanity.

The bracelet pulsed softly against his wrist, syncing now to a rhythm that wasn’t just his. It was hers. Theirs. Steady, if only for a moment before beating at odds once again.

Footsteps crunched lightly behindhim.

He did not turn. “You should rest.”

She came closer anyway, stopping just behind him. “You’re bleeding again.”

“It is not critical.”

He heard her crouch beside him, felt the shift in the air as she reached out. Her fingers contacted his arm, light as wind, but the bond flared with it. Not painful. Just—immediate.

“Let me see,” she said, already pulling the meddisc from the small satchel they’d salvaged. She didn’t wait for permission.

The meddisc hissed faintly as it sealed a gash along his ribs. Then another. Then his knuckles. Along his jawline. Her touch came brisk but careful. He was acutely aware of every point where her skin methis.

When she finally sat back on her heels, he didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“You saved me today,” she said quietly. “Even when you were... gone.”

He closed his eyes. “That is not a reassurance. Inearly broke my oath.”

“But you didn’t.” She paused. Then added, softer, “You stopped. That matters.”

He could not look ather.

Her hand rose again, this time resting lightly on his shoulder. The warmth of her touch spread through him like sunlight through ice. Abalm. Abond

“We should rest,” she said. “A few hours at most. Then we move.”

He nodded once. Finally.

They set up camp just beyond the rocks, sheltered beneath an overhang and surrounded on three sides by jagged stone. Acrude defense, but one that would buy them seconds if predators returned. He forced himself to eat a ration bar while Anya dozed lightly beside him, her breathing soft and uneven.

He watched her for longer than he meantto.

When she stirred, she found him still seated beside her, sharpening his blade with slow, precise movements.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she murmured.

“No.”

She sat up slowly, wiping sweat from the back of her neck. Her skin shone in the light, flushed and damp, and a single bead of moisture tracked along her collarbone before vanishing beneath the edge of her shirt.

Her eyes met his—still heavy with sleep, rimmed with heat and exhaustion—and yet within them lived a flicker of something more. Determination. Weariness. Maybe even trust. He could not look at her and remain unaffected. Not when she looked likethat.

“What happens if I don’t survive this?” she asked.

The question struck him like a blow—sharp, unanticipated, more devastating than any blade. He set his weapon down carefully, suddenly aware of how useless it would be if he lost her. He met her gaze, and for a moment, let her see past the control.

Her brows drew together, lips parting slightly as she looked at him—really looked at him. Long, tangled strands of blonde hair clung to her damp skin, her body still flushed from the heat. But it was her eyes that struck him hardest—those wide, ocean-blue eyes, always filled with something she refused to speak aloud. Vulnerability. Courage. An ache that mirrored hisown.

He had seen those eyes wide with terror, narrowed with defiance, soft with sleep, burning with desire. He had seen her body arch beneath his, her breath catch with rapture. And still, he wantedher.

Not because of the craving. Not because of what the bracelet demanded.

Because she was his. Anya. Complex. Beautiful. Infuriating.

Necessary.

His need for her existed beyond instinct, beyond biology, beyond the limits of any bond he had ever known. It lived in his blood now, in the slow turn of her head, in the tremble of her breath, in the sweat-slick curve of her throat and the way she blinked too fast when overwhelmed. She was all soft skin and fierce resolve. And she was looking at him like she wasn’t sure what he’d say. Like maybe—some part of her needed to hear it,too.

“If you don’t survive this, then I fail,” he said. his voice dropping low. “And I do not fail. Ihave calculated countless probabilities, adjusted for every threat. But you…”

He trailed off. Something fractured just slightly in his expression. “You were never a variable I expected. Yet now every survival outcome requires you.”

She didn’t speak.

“Therefore,” he said, more gently, “you will survive.”

Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. Then she shook her head faintly, as if trying to dismiss the weight of what he’d just said. “But—” The word caught in her throat, afragile protest she couldn’t quite voice.

“I do not fail,” he repeated simply. “Therefore, you will survive.”

But the words echoed back too softly against the silence between them. Something in her expression caught in his chest and refused to letgo.

She turned away, just slightly, curling her knees against her chest. Her skin still glistened with heat, her breathing uneven. He didn’t speak, only reached out and tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered longer than necessary. She didn’t pullaway.

It wasn’t protection she needed. Not warmth. Justhim.

As he started to rise, her hand caught his wrist.

Not to stop him. Her fingers didn’t shake. She didn’t flinch. There was no panic in the way she reached for him—just quiet conviction. Something in her touch spoke of trust, of forgiveness, of faith he hadn’t earned. Notyet.

He paused. Their eyes met again.

She exhaled softly, almost soundless, the breath hitching just enough to betray what she felt. Her fingers tightened around his wrist, and her gaze turned raw.Open.

He leaned down slowly, brushing his mouth against her temple. It was not a kiss meant to stir passion, but awhisper of something unspoken. She closed her eyes and leaned intoit.

Then, quietly, she releasedhim.

The absence of her grip was immediate. Not painful, but sharp—like waking from a dream too soon. Her fingers slipping from his wrist left behind a heat that wasn’t physical. It was the imprint of her trust, her belief in him. And for a moment, he missed the contact more than he cared to admit.

Tor’Vek rose and began packing their gear. He didn’t look at her again until everything was ready. Then he extended ahand.

She took it without hesitation.

They broke camp in silence—but not distance. Never distance.

Neither spoke as they climbed the first ridge, the terrain growing more jagged with each step. Sunlight baked the rocks around them, too hot, too bright, and yet the shadows always felt close. Watching.

Predators stalked them. He sensed it. Anya sensed it too. She stayed close.

At midday, she stumbled, skin flushed with heat. He steadied her with a hand to her lowerback.

“We need to rest soon,” she said, voice tight.

“One more kilometer.”

She didn’t argue.

The bond between them ached now, not with rage, but with something heavier. Hunger. Craving. Avisceral need neither of them daredname.

They crested another rise—and the wind changed.

He knew the scent before he saw the threat.

The creatures were fast. Silent. Camouflaged until the moment they struck.

Anya screamed as one leapt from a rock above and Tor’Vek threw himself into its path, blade already rising.

The hunt had begun again.

The first creature landed hard, claws outstretched, all sinew and fangs and speed.

Tor’Vek met it head-on.

The force of the impact threw him backward, boots grinding into the rock. The beast snarled, its breath hot and fetid against his skin. He grunted, twisting, driving his blade up beneath the ribs. The creature howled and convulsed, thrashing with enough strength to rip a lesser fighter apart.

It diedugly.

Another lunged before the first hit the ground. Tor’Vek pivoted, blade flashing, but the second was faster—smarter. It dodged, raked claws across his side, drawing blood. The sting sharpened his focus. He countered quickly, feinting left and then driving forward with brutal precision. The blade sliced through the creature’s throat in one clean arc, and it dropped, gurgling, into the dust. Only then did he spin toward the third—

Anya shouted behindhim.

The third had gone forher.

Cursing, he whirled towardher.

Toofar.

Still, heran.

Too far. Toolate.

She dodged left, fast, ducking under a sweeping arm. The slope gave under her boots, and she stumbled. The creature struck.

Her scream pierced the air as claws sliced across her upper thigh. She collapsed, clutching the wound.

Tor’Vek bellowed. It tore out of his chest raw and unrestrained—asound born not just of fury, but fear. The sight of her blood, her scream, the split-second where she dropped and he could not reach her—it fractured something insidehim.

He closed the distance in a blur, ramming his shoulder into the creature with enough force to send them both tumbling. He rolled, came up over it, and drove the blade into its neck again and again until it stopped moving.

Silencefell.

But only for a breath.

A fourth creature lunged from the shadows to his right—larger than the others, with a scar across its jaw and a predatory focus in its eyes. Tor’Vek spun, blade coming up. They clashed hard, metal against bone, claws against skin. He grunted as it drove him backward, strength near equal to his own. But he was faster. Smarter.

He ducked a swing, jammed his elbow into its throat, and slashed across its chest. It reeled—but not before landing a blow that knocked him off balance, skidding across the rocky slope.

The creature came afterhim.

Tor’Vek rolled, came to his feet, and drove his blade up through the beast’s jaw as it leapt. Its weight crashed into him, but it was already dead by the time they hit the ground.

Breathing hard, Tor’Vek shoved the body aside and turned, blood pounding in hisears.

Anya.

She was on her side, propped on one elbow, her other hand pressed hard to the wound. Blood seeped through her fingers, dark andwet.

“Let me see,” he said, dropping besideher.

She shook her head. “It’s not thatbad.”

“Do not lie tome.”

He peeled her hand away. The gash was long. Deep. Already swelling, the edges of the wound red and angry. It was worse than she’d admitted—worse than he’d feared. He yanked the meddisc from his satchel, thumbing the activator.

It glowed. Dimly.

He swore. It pulsed slower than before. The power cell was weakening.

He pressed it to her skin anyway. The disc hissed and sealed the wound, but only partially. The last pulse flickered, the glow nearly extinguished.

He held it up. The readout flashed orange. One, maybe two usesleft.

Anya watched him, lips tight. Her face had gone pale, eyes glassy with pain, but she didn’t complain. She hadn’t made a sound since the scream—and that scared him more than any wound.

He settled on his knees beside her and took her hand again. Her skin was slick with sweat, her pulse erratic under his fingertips.

“Breathe,” he said quietly. “Just breathe.”

She nodded, even as a tear slipped down her cheek.

Tor’Vek touched the meddisc to her thigh again to finish the job. The seal wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. The worst was closed. Infection averted. But the weakness of the tool rattled him more than he wanted to admit.

“We have to be careful,” she whispered.

“Yes.Very.”

He looked back at her leg. The bleeding had stopped. But when he checked the bracelet interface still linked to his rij, the display joltedhim.

Thirty-two solar units.

Down from nearly forty.

His breath caught.

The countdown had dropped again—severely. The numbers weren’t just data. They were a death sentence ticking louder now, closer. He stared at them, the sharp jolt in his chest not from the readout but from what it meant. Not enough time. Not enough protection. And she was bleeding in his arms. He wasn’t just afraid of failing the mission. He was afraid of failing her.

She was watching him. “Thetime?”

He met her gaze. “We have lost nearly eight more solar units. Sixteen total.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she only nodded. “Then we have tomove.”

He touched her cheek.

“You willlive.”

She smiled faintly. “Good. One of us hasto.”

The words hung between them like a shadow. Tor’Vek didn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth twitched in something not quite a smile. He felt it—the weight of her joke meant to distract him from the fear. Meant to keep them both standing.

He let the silence stretch just a second longer before shifting closer, fingers sweeping the back of her hand. Areminder. Avow.

His hand moved to her wrist, where the bracelet still pulsed against her skin. The bond between them vibrated softly now, the craving dimmed by adrenaline, fear, and something else he didn’t want toname.

He leaned in, resting his forehead againsthers.

“You cannotdie.”

“Wasn’t planning to,” she whispered.

He breathed herin.

For now, she was stillhere.

But she could notwalk.

Tor’Vek saw the pain flash across her face the moment she shifted her weight. She tried to mask it—of course she did—but the bond betrayed her. The flare of discomfort lanced through him as clearly as if it were hisown.

She took two steps. Stumbled on the third.

Without a word, he moved.

His arms swept beneath her again, lifting her. She gasped, more from surprise than pain, her arms instinctively wrapping around hisneck.

“Ican walk,” she protested softly.

“You should not,” he replied, his voice low but implacable.

She didn’t argue again.

The heat pressed down on them as they moved, the jagged terrain rising ahead in an endless ripple of blackened stone. But her body in his arms was the only weight he cared about. And she—for once—let herselfrest.

He held her tighter.

Because no matter how many times he told himself to remain logical, analytical, precise—this was not a variable he would allow the universe to take. He adjusted his grip around her, one hand cradling her thigh, the other steady at her back. Her temple grazed his jaw. The contact was subtle, but it supported him in a way no algorithm everhad.

Time ticked by, far too quickly. The valley stretched out before them, narrow and winding, hemmed in by jagged cliffs on either side. It should have been a clear shot to the access panel. Adirectpath.

But the ground was wrong.

The earth below shimmered with heat. Cracks laced through stone like veins. Steam curled from fissures at random intervals, rising in ghostly fingers toward the blazing sky with a high, hissing shriek that echoed through the valley like a warning. The sound was sharp, alive—abreath held too long before rupture.

Tor’Vek stopped at theedge.

“That smell,” she murmured, “what isit?”

“Sulfur. And pressure.”

As if summoned by his words, ageyser erupted fifty meters ahead. Not with water—but with stone. Achunk the size of a skimmer hull launched into the air with a sound like a cannon, crashing down half a second later and obliterating the slope besidethem.

Anya flinched. Tor’Vek adjusted his grip. “Put me down,” she said, already pushing lightly against his chest. “My leg is fine. Icanrun.”

He hesitated.

She met his gaze, firm—but her eyes flickered, just for a moment, to his mouth. The bond pulsed between them like a second heartbeat, heated and insistent. “You said it yourself—this is going to be fast. You need both hands.”

Her voice was steady, but her breath wasn’t. The craving was there, just beneath the surface, echoing his own. It churned with the same pressure building under their feet—dangerous, volatile, asingle breath from detonation. And like the geysers all around them, it wouldn’t take much to explode. One touch. One kiss. One moment of surrender.

He set her down carefully. She tested her weight with a wince, then nodded. “Let’s dothis.”

“We run,” hesaid.

She blinked. “Through that ?”

“There is no other path. The panel is on the farside.”

Another geyser erupted to their left. Then a third, farther down. Shards of rock rained in all directions.

She swallowed hard. “Then werun.”

Theydid.

The first sprint was clean. Ten meters. Fifteen.

Then the earth hissed.

Tor’Vek grabbed her arm and yanked her left as a geyser exploded where they’d just been, the shockwave throwing them sideways. They hit the ground hard, rolled, and scrambledup.

They ran again.

A lull. Then more eruptions. Rock sprayed across the valley in unpredictable arcs. Some geysers launched debris high into the air. Others hurled it sideways in jagged arcs, slicing through the air like shrapnel.

Anya stumbled. Tor’Vek caught her wrist—his grip instinctive, too tight, lingering. Her skin burned beneath his fingers. For a split second, neither of them moved, the world narrowed to touch and breath and the low throb of the bond straining to break free. Then she blinked hard, and he released her. They weaved around another fissure, ducked beneath a jut of stone just as a plume exploded behindthem.

He shielded her as boulders rained down, then shoved them forward again.

They were halfway across when the largest geyser yet blew skyward with a shriek. Aboulder the size of a transport drone came down ten meters ahead, embedding itself in thepath.

They veered around it, breath ragged, boots slipping on scorched gravel.

The access panel shimmered into view through the steam—adark oval set into the rock face, gleaming faintly.

Ten more meters.

Five.

The terrain bucked beneath them as one last geyser exploded behind them, hurling a wave of dust and debris. It struck them midstride, knocking both off theirfeet.

Anya hit hard, rolled once, and came up gasping.

Tor’Vek grabbed her hand, dragged her to herfeet.

Together, they ran the final steps.

They collapsed against the base of the cliff, lungs burning, bodies scraped and bruised. Their shoulders touched. Their breathing staggered in sync. The bond clawed at the edges of restraint, wanting more than survival. It surged against the limits of control, wild and immediate, as if it sensed the nearness of safety and demanded a reward. Tor’Vek’s pulse pounded in his throat—not from exertion, but from the need drumming through him, hot and insistent. He clenched his fists, swallowing it back. Barely.

His gaze dipped to her mouth. Justonce.

Then he lookedaway.

They’d made it. Scarred. Breathless. Inches from unraveling.

Now the panel waited. And waiting was no longer an option.