Page 10

CHAPTER 10

ORION

" I wish I had more interesting fare for our conversation, Captain," I say, leaning back in the chair across from Pyke’s desk. My scales catch the soft blue light of the holographic readouts floating above his workspace. "But what can I say except it's quite boring—profits are up, costs are down, and we've successfully created ten thousand new living wage jobs this quarter alone."

Pyke’s crimson scales shimmer as he grins, his sharp teeth gleaming. "Boring is good, Orion. Boring means stability. Stability means we’re winning. You’ve done excellent work."

"Excellent work," I echo, my voice dry. "I’m sure the Trident Alliance will sing songs of my spreadsheets one day."

He chuckles, leaning forward, his massive frame making the desk seem absurdly small. "Spreadsheets win wars, my friend. No empire ever fell because someone crunched the numbers too hard."

"Poetic," I deadpan, crossing my arms. "Anything else, or can I get back to my thrilling paperwork?"

Pyke’s grin fades, replaced by a somber expression that sets my scales prickling. "Actually, there is something. It’s time to step up Cora’s Veritas training. I need you to instruct her in hand-to-hand combat, small Vakutan firearms, and basic starship controls."

I freeze. "What for? Human agents don’t get combat training unless they’re going into the field. Is that what this is? You’re sending her out?"

Pyke doesn’t flinch. "We’ve received intel. Luhr’s active in the St. Louis area. He’s sniffing around, looking for someone close to Orion Weller. He suspects you’re with Veritas. We want to use Cora as bait to draw him out."

My claws dig into the arms of the chair. "No."

"Orion—"

"No." I stand, my voice a low, guttural growl. "You’re not putting her in danger. She’s not a pawn. She’s?—"

"She’s a recruit," Pyke interrupts, his tone calm but firm. "And if she’s going to survive in this war, she needs to know how to fight. You know that."

I slam my fist into the desk, the impact sending a crack through the synthetic material. Pyke doesn’t even blink. "I won’t risk her like this. She’s not ready."

"She’s tougher than you think. And if you can’t train her, I’ll assign her to someone else."

The words hit like a plasma blast to the chest. My claws curl into fists, and I let out a roar of frustration, flipping the desk over with a crash. Papers scatter, holographic screens flicker out, and Pyke’s coffee mug shatters on the floor.

He doesn’t move. Just sits there, watching me with those calm, calculating eyes. "Are you done?"

I’m breathing hard, my chest heaving. My scales flare a deeper red, the heat of my anger radiating off me. "You’re asking me to choose between my duty and the woman I?—"

"Love?" Pyke finishes for me, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, I am. And I know it’s not an easy choice. But this is the job, Orion. If you can’t do it, I’ll find someone who can."

I glare at him, my jaw clenched so tight it feels like my teeth might crack. But I know he’s right. If I don’t train her, someone else will. And I’d rather die than let someone else take her from me.

"Fine," I snarl. "I’ll train her. But if anything happens to her?—"

"You’ll be the first to know," Pyke says, his tone softening. "And the first to act. Now, go. And try not to destroy any more furniture on your way out."

I fly back home to the riverboat, my mind lost in how I'm going to tell Cora the news. I have to tell her she's going to put her life in danger. It's not that I think she will refuse that bothers me.

It's that I know she's going to say yes.

I disguise the shuttle as a chopper and land at Orion Plaza. Then I take the Lexus to the riverboat, prepared to tell Cora the news.

I step onto the riverboat, the scent of burnt tuna casserole hitting me like a plasma blast to the face. My scales twitch in revulsion. Cora’s parents are here, standing in the middle of the living room, beaming like they’ve just discovered a new planet. Maggie holds a casserole dish in her hands, the contents of which look like they’ve been through a supernova.

“Orion!” Maggie chirps, thrusting the dish toward me. “I made this for you. A little housewarming gift. Tuna casserole—my specialty.”

I force a smile, my teeth grinding together. “How… thoughtful.”

Cora’s dad, Joe, claps me on the shoulder with a hand that feels like it could crush a grolgath skull. “Maggie’s been talking about this all week. You’re in for a treat.”

I glance at Cora, who’s standing behind her parents, biting her lip to keep from laughing. Her green eyes sparkle with mischief. She knows. She knows .

“Well,” I say, taking the dish with the kind of caution one might use when handling a live grenade, “I’m sure it’s… delicious.”

Maggie beams. “Oh, it is! I added extra cheese this time. And a secret ingredient.”

“Secret ingredient?” I echo, my voice strained.

“Love,” she says, clasping her hands together.

“Right. Love. Of course.” I glance out the window, spotting a barge passing by. “Oh, look at that! A barge. You don’t see those every day.”

Maggie and Joe turn to look, and I seize the moment. I dart into the kitchen, dump the casserole into the trash, and return to the living room before they can blink.

“So,” I say, licking my fingers with exaggerated enthusiasm, “that was incredible. Truly. Best tuna casserole I’ve ever had.”

Maggie’s eyes widen. “You already ate it?”

“Couldn’t help myself,” I lie smoothly. “It smelled too good to resist.”

Cora steps closer, her voice a whisper in my ear. “You might think you’ve won, but now Mom will just bring you a tuna casserole every. Time. she. Visits.”

I stifle a groan. “I’ve cut my own throat, haven’t I?”

She grins. “Absolutely.”

After what feels like an eternity, Cora’s parents finally leave, waving goodbye from the dock. I collapse onto the couch, rubbing my temples. Cora sits beside me, her expression shifting from amused to curious.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

I take a deep breath. “Pyke’s ordered me to train you. Hand-to-hand combat, small Vakutan firearms, starship controls. The works.”

Her eyes widen. “Why? I thought I was just handling spreadsheets and… other things.”

“Luhr’s in the area. He’s sniffing around, looking for someone close to Orion Weller. Pyke wants to use you as bait to draw him out.”

Cora’s face pales, but she doesn’t flinch. “Okay. When do we start?”

I stare at her, my chest tightening. “You’re not scared?”

“Terrified,” she admits. “But if this is what it takes to keep us safe, I’ll do it. Besides, I’ve got you to teach me, right?”

I reach for her hand, my scales brushing against her soft skin. “Always.”

I feel the words clawing their way up my throat, a truth I can’t hold back any longer. My chest tightens, my scales bristling with the weight of it. I pull her closer, my massive frame dwarfing hers, and the words tumble out, raw and unfiltered.

“I love you, Cora.”

She freezes in my arms, her body stiffening like she’s been hit with a stun blast. She pulls back, her green eyes wide, searching mine. “Do you?” she asks, her voice soft, almost fragile.

The vulnerability in her tone guts me. I take her face in my hands, my claws careful not to scratch her delicate skin. “Of course I do. You’re brilliant, brave, and you’ve got more character in your little finger than I’ve got in my entire body. How could I not love you?”

Her lips curve into a smile, slow and luminous, like a sunrise breaking over a battlefield. “Good,” she says, her voice steady now, “because I love you too.”

I don’t give her a chance to say more. I tilt her head up, closing the distance between us, and kiss her with everything I’ve got. It’s rough, possessive, and full of the heat that’s been building between us for weeks. Her hands grip my shoulders, her fingers digging into my scales, and I can feel the shiver that runs through her.

When I finally pull back, her eyes are dark, her breath coming in short gasps. “Orion,” she breathes, and my name on her lips is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.

I sweep her up into my arms, her legs locking around my waist instinctively. She laughs, a low, husky sound that sends a jolt of heat straight to my core. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed,” I growl, my voice rough with need. “Unless you’ve got an objection.”

She grins, her teeth grazing my neck in a playful nip. “Not a single one.”

I carry her up the stairs, her weight nothing to me, her laughter echoing through the riverboat. When we reach the bedroom, I set her down gently, but she doesn’t let go, her arms still wrapped around my neck. Her eyes meet mine, and there’s no fear, no hesitation—just hunger.

“You’re sure?” I ask, because I have to. Because even now, with her body pressed against mine, I need to know she’s with me, that she’s chosen this—chosen me.

“Always,” she whispers.