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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

A sh waited until Xara’s breathing deepened into the steady rhythm of sleep. The pups were nestled against her, their small bodies pulsing with bioluminescence in time with their dreams. He watched them for a long moment, memorizing the sight—his family, safe in the home they’d built together.

The resin binding on his wrist glowed softly in the darkness, and he traced his finger over it, feeling the connection it represented. Not a chain, but a choice—his choice. Hers.

He slipped from the bed with the silence that had once made him the perfect weapon. Now he used that stealth for a different purpose—to protect what was his without disturbing their rest.

The jungle welcomed him as he stepped outside, its familiar dangers no match for his heightened senses.

He moved through the darkness with purpose, following the scent trail of the Zarkari soldiers back to their ship.

Their blood still stained the forest floor in places, but the jungle was already beginning to reclaim those spots, vines creeping over darkened patches, luminescent fungi sprouting from enriched soil.

Nature was efficient here. Within days, there would be no trace of the battle.

But the ship remained—a gleaming intrusion of polished metal and harsh angles among the wild beauty of the forest. It stood where Xara’s shuttle had once crashed, its landing gear deep in the soft earth, and he approached cautiously, his muscles tensed for any sign of automated defenses.

The Zarkari were nothing if not thorough, but the ship’s systems remained dormant.

Vask had been arrogant to the end, never imagining his prize weapon might actually defeat him.

The entry ramp was still extended, spattered with mud and blood. He paused at its base as memories flooded over him.

He’d been on ships like this countless times. He’d been transported in them, deployed from them, and returned to them covered in the blood of enemies who never stood a chance. Each mission followed by decontamination, debriefing, reconditioning.

His tendrils coiled tightly against his skull, but he forced them to relax, reminding himself that those days were over. Vask was dead and the Zarkari believed this planet uninhabitable. There was no reason for them to return—unless they came looking for their missing commander.

He climbed the ramp, his claws clicking softly against the metal. Inside, the ship was all clean lines and utilitarian design with nothing wasted, and nothing unnecessary.

The bridge was small but efficiently arranged, familiar. He settled into the pilot’s chair, his big body barely fitting a space designed for more typical Zarkari. His hands hovered over the controls, the memories returning with shocking ease.

The console lit up at his touch, recognizing the genetic markers they’d never bothered to remove from their database. Why would they? He was supposed to be dead, after all.

[IDENTITY CONFIRMED: K-7]

The text flashed across the screen, and a cold weight settled in his stomach. He wanted to forget that designation had ever existed.

He wasn’t K-7 anymore. He was Ash now.

But K-7 still possessed some useful knowledge and he quickly accessed the ship’s navigation systems. The Zarkari language came back to him easily, despite years without seeing it. Some things, it seemed, were burned too deeply to forget.

He set the coordinates carefully—a path that would take the ship far from their planet, deep into the empty space between star systems. No planets to crash into, no ships to encounter—just an endless void.

Next, he accessed the ship’s databanks to find out how much Vask had recorded. His claws extended involuntarily, scratching the surface of the console as he uncovered the details of Vask’s transaction with an Alnuk trader—a private transaction.

His tendrils whipped through the air as he delved deeper into the ship’s systems, searching for any transmission logs. Had Vask already sent information back to the Dominion about her planet?

[COMMUNICATION LOG: EMPTY]

Relief flooded through him. Vask had been waiting to secure his prize before reporting back. Typical. The commander had always hoarded credit, presenting only complete victories to his superiors.

That arrogance would now protect Xara’s world—and theirs.

He quickly set to work, programming the ship’s self-destruct sequence. It was simple enough; all Zarkari vessels were equipped with such measures to prevent their technology from falling into enemy hands.

He set the timer for twelve hours—enough time for the ship to reach deep space, far from any inhabited worlds. Then he systematically erased all records of the mission, of Earth’s coordinates, of Xara’s existence.

As far as the Zarkari Dominion would know, Commander Vask and his team had simply disappeared on a routine patrol.

A regrettable loss, but not one worth extensive investigation—not with a war still raging across three star systems. A war they were trying very hard to conceal from the rest of the Kaisarian Empire.

He briefly considered sending a message to the Royal Fleet, then just as quickly discarded the idea.

While it would no doubt be satisfying to bring the wrath of the Empire down on the Dominion, there was no guarantee they would stop there and he had no wish to attract their attention.

His finger hovered over the final activation sequence. Once initiated, the ship would seal itself, lift off, and follow its programmed course to destruction. There would be no stopping it.

He hesitated as a new thought occurred to him. The ship contained supplies, weapons, medical equipment—things that could make their life easier. Things that could help protect Xara and the pups.

But the ship also contained risks—tracking devices and automated distress protocols that might activate despite his programming. The Zarkari were nothing if not thorough in their contingency planning.

No. The safest option was total destruction.

He pressed the sequence, watching as the ship’s systems locked into their final protocol. The entry ramp began to retract even as he leapt from it, landing easily on the forest floor.

The engines hummed to life, a low vibration that sent nearby creatures scurrying for cover, and he stepped back, watching as the vessel rose slowly into the night sky, its sleek form briefly silhouetted against the largest moon.

He tracked its ascent until it was nothing more than a pinpoint of light among thousands, indistinguishable from the stars themselves. Then he turned and began the journey home.

The jungle felt different now. Still dangerous, still wild, but no longer hostile. This was his territory, his world. The place where he had found something he’d never expected to find—peace.

As he moved through the darkness, his thoughts turned to Xara. To the life they were building together. To the future that now stretched before them, unmarked by the shadows of his past.

The Tal’shai had recognized their bond immediately, offering the sacred resin bindings without hesitation. They had seen what he was only beginning to understand—that he and Xara were meant to find each other. That together, they were something neither could be alone.

The cave came into view, its entrance framed by the bioluminescent vines that she was carefully training into a welcoming curtain. She’d started methodically cataloging the planet’s flora, applying her scientific knowledge to their survival with a passion that both amused and impressed him.

Inside, everything was as he’d left it. The fire burned low, casting a warm glow over their home. The pups had migrated in his absence, now curled in a tight pile against her stomach as she slept peacefully, one hand outstretched across the space where he had been.

He slipped silently into their bed, settling carefully beside her. She stirred slightly, her hand finding his arm even in sleep, and a small smile curved her lips.

“You came back,” she murmured, not fully awake.

He covered her hand with his own, his tendrils gently brushing her cheek.

“Always,” he promised, his voice a low rumble in the darkness.

She nestled against him, already drifting back to sleep, trusting and content. The pups shifted, sensing his return, but didn’t wake.

He gazed down at them—his family, his home, his future. Everything he’d never dared to want, never believed he deserved. Yet here they were, trusting him. Loving him.

Somewhere high above, beyond the atmosphere, the Zarkari ship continued its journey into the void. Soon it would be gone, the last physical link to his past destroyed in the vacuum of space.

That life was over.

He was no longer K-7, the perfect weapon, the failed experiment. He was Ash now. Mate. Protector. Father to the pups. And perhaps, someday, to children of his own.

The thought filled him with wonder and terror in equal measure. Could he and Xara even reproduce? Their species were so different. But the Tal’shai had hinted it might be possible, with their help. Their bioengineering skills were subtle but profound.

It was a question for another day. For now, it was enough to hold her close, to feel her heartbeat against his skin, to know that they were safe.

He closed his eyes as his tendrils curled protectively around Xara and the pups. For the first time since he could remember, there was no tension in his muscles, no alertness for danger in his mind.

Just peace. Just home.

And for the first time in his long existence, that was enough.