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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

O ver the next few days Xara’s leg improved enough that she could explore more of the cave system without the makeshift crutch.

The pups scampered ahead of her, their bioluminescent markings casting playful shadows on the rough stone walls.

Their confidence had grown with her recovery, and now they treated the entire cave as their playground.

“Wait up, you little monsters,” she called, following them down a narrow passage she hadn’t investigated before.

The passage opened into a room unlike she’d seen before. Most of the rooms followed the cave’s natural formations, but this room had straight edges and flat surfaces beneath years of dust and debris. The ceiling was partially collapsed, allowing thin beams of red-tinted sunlight to filter through.

“What is this place?” she whispered, running her fingers along what appeared to be a control panel embedded in the wall.

Dot chirped excitedly and scrambled over a pile of rubble. The other two followed, their markings pulsing with excitement.

“Hey, be careful!” she called, picking her way through the debris. “There might be?—”

Her foot caught on something, sending her stumbling forward. She caught herself against the wall, dislodging years of accumulated dust and revealing another metallic surface beneath. She continued clearing the wall, revealing what looked like script—alien characters she couldn’t begin to decipher.

Dot squeaked again,uncovering something half-buried in the rubble—a flat, rectangular object about the size of a tablet.

“What did you find, little one?”

She knelt beside the pup, carefully lifting the object. It was cracked across one corner, the surface scratched and dulled with age, but as she turned it over, a faint blue light flickered along its edge.

“It still has power?”

She sat cross-legged on the floor, the tablet balanced on her knees as the pups gathered around, their markings pulsing with curiosity. She ran her fingers along the edges, feeling for any kind of button or interface.

“Come on,” she muttered. “How do I?—”

A section of the screen illuminated, displaying more of the alien script, and she sighed. What good was finding working technology if she couldn’t understand any of it?

She tapped experimentally on different areas of the screen. Most did nothing, but when her finger brushed across a small icon in the corner, the display changed. New symbols appeared, arranged in what looked like a list.

“Files,” she realized. “These must be files or entries of some kind.”

Dot climbed into her lap, her tiny claws clicking against the tablet’s surface as she accidentally stepped on the screen. A new display appeared—this one with what looked like waveforms.

“Careful,” she said, gently moving the pup aside. “You might damage?—”

The tablet emitted a burst of static, then a voice—deep, mechanical, and unintelligible. She nearly dropped the device in surprise.

“It talks!” She stared at the tablet, her heart racing. “It actually works!”

The voice continued, and amidst the alien syllables, she caught what sounded like a few words in English.

“—subject shows remarkable?—”

Her breath caught. “That was English! How is that possible?”

Except... she’d understood the few words Ash said. Perhaps the alien who’d taken her had provided some type of translation implant.

The words disappeared in a wave of static and she tried to fine-tune the settings further, her hands shaking with excitement. The next file played, and while much of it remained unintelligible, she could make out more words:

“—adaptive capabilities beyond expected parameters?—”

She continued adjusting settings, playing file after file, gleaning fragments of understanding from the sea of alien speech. Most seemed to be research notes or reports, mentioning terms like “adaptation trials” and “combat efficiency.”

Then she found a file that made her blood run cold.

“Project: K-7 final assessment,” the mechanical voice intoned, clearer than any previous recording.

“Subject refused to execute target purge despite direct neural override. Primary conditioning failed. Secondary failsafes bypassed. Subject deemed defective and dangerous. Recommendation: immediate termination.”

Her hands trembled as she tapped to the next file.

“Termination order overruled by High Command. Subject to be permanently exiled to quarantine planet XK-13. All communication channels severed. Asset officially decommissioned.”

The tablet slipped from her fingers, clattering to the stone floor. The pups squeaked in alarm, huddling against her legs.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, staring at the device. “They were talking about him.”

Everything clicked into place. The way he moved—precise, lethal, but always controlled. His understanding of her language despite never speaking.

He was engineered—created as a weapon—and when he refused to kill, they’d cast him out and abandoned him on this hellish planet to die alone.

But he hadn’t died. He’d survived and built a life in the ruins of whatever this place had been.

And when she’d crashed here—injured, vulnerable, an easy target—he could have ignored her. He could even have killed her. Instead, he’d chosen to save her and to care for her.

Just as he’d chosen not to kill whoever those “targets” had been. She clutched the tablet to her chest, tears blurring her vision. Dot nuzzled her hand, sensing her distress.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, stroking her head. “I’m just... processing.”

A shadow fell across the chamber entrance, and she looked up to see him standing there, his silver eyes gleaming in the dim light, his powerful form silhouetted against the passage.

How long had he been watching? Had he heard the recordings? Did he know what she’d discovered?

She rose slowly, still clutching the tablet. The pups chirped, scampering toward him, but he remained motionless, his gaze fixed on her face.

“You were made to be a weapon.” She took a step toward him. “But you chose not to be.”

His sensory tendrils coiled tighter, a reaction she now recognized as tension or discomfort.

“They exiled you because you wouldn’t kill.” Another step. “Because you showed mercy.”

His massive chest rose and fell with his breathing but he said nothing.

“Just as you chose to save me.”

She reached out, her hand hovering inches from his chest. He could step back and retreat into the shadows as he had so many times before.

Instead, he remained still, allowing her to close the distance. Her palm pressed against his chest, feeling the powerful heart beneath the warm skin, the luminescent patterns brightening at the contact.

“Thank you,” she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. “For choosing me.”

For a long moment, they stood like that—her hand on his chest, his silver eyes locked on hers, the air between them charged with unspoken emotion. Then, slowly, one of his hands rose to cover hers. His touch was gentle, those lethal claws carefully sheathed for the first time.

Dot squeaked, breaking the moment as she tried to climb up his leg, and one of his tendrils immediately responded, lifting her to his shoulder.

Despite everything—the weight of what she’d learned, the emotion thick in the air—she couldn’t help but laugh.

“I think they knew all along,” she said softly. “They chose you too.”

She watched him cradle Dot, this being created for destruction who now treated a tiny life with such care. The contrast made her heart ache.

“You’re more than what they made you,” she said quietly. “You always were.”

The tablet lay forgotten on the floor, its secrets revealed. But as she stood there, her hand still pressed against his chest, she knew the most important truth wasn’t recorded in any file.

It was standing right in front of her, written in every choice he’d made since the day they met.

That afternoon Ash disappeared off to hunt again and Xara decided it was time to make some changes. The cave had clearly been his sanctuary for years, but it bore the stark efficiency of someone focused solely on survival.

She wanted to make it a home.

She began sorting useful items from debris, creating designated areas for cooking, washing, and storage, building on his original system. The pups tumbled around her feet, determined to help.

She smiled when Dot dragged a twisted piece of metal twice her size toward her pile. Her markings pulsed with pride as she praised her.

“Good job! That’s perfect.”

Trouble squeaked indignantly as he struggled with a bundle of fibrous vines, and she laughed and knelt to help him.

“Those are perfect for the sleeping area,” she said, taking them from his tiny claws. “Thank you.”

She’d decided to create her own sleeping space—not because she didn’t want to share his bed, but because the unfulfilled desire between them was growing harder and harder to ignore. She wanted him to come to her because he was ready, not because she was only an arm’s length away.

Soldier dragged in leaves with silvery undersides that felt surprisingly soft to the touch. Perfect for bedding.

“Where did you find these?” she asked, stroking his head.

The pup chirped and scurried toward a small crevice near the back of the cave.

She followed, ducking beneath a low-hanging stalactite to discover a smaller chamber only a few feet high.

Daylight filtered through a narrow opening in the ceiling, illuminating a patch of the silver-leafed plants growing along the wall.

“Well done, Soldier,” she murmured, gathering an armful of the leaves.

By that evening, she had transformed the main chamber. The fire pit was properly ringed with stones, salvaged metal containers lined one wall for storage, and she’d even fashioned a crude broom from stiff reeds to sweep the floor clear of debris.