Page 38 of Zayrik (The Protectorate Warriors Alien Fated Mates #6)

Nyla

I NOTICED THE COLD first. Not the stinging bite of restraints. Not the suffocating weight of Vask’s ship.

Or the electric fire that had torn through my nerves.

Just... cold air. Clean. Controlled.

Safe.

Then, pain.

But not like before.

A dull, dragging ache beneath layers of numbness.

Not sharp. Not immediate.

Just enough to remind me I was breathing.

Still here.

I exhaled slowly. My ribs protested the movement.

But I was alive.

And through something that felt like connection, like belonging, I felt him.

Waiting.

Watching.

Mine.

My fingers curled against the sheets. Soft. Real. Not metal.

Not a cell floor.

I opened my eyes.

The lights were dim, the ceiling too bright, and sterile.

Then I saw him.

Zayrik. Sitting beside me. Watching. Waiting.

And for once in my life, I didn’t want to be alone.

His voice came low with a teasing edge. “Took you long enough.”

I huffed. Barely. Not a laugh. But something.

Something real.

My throat burned. “Where...”

He reached for something—a glass of water—and pressed it into my hand.

His fingers didn’t let go right away.

I wasn’t used to someone taking care of me.

Nav buzzed faintly against my wrist, its soft blue glow steady.

Still there. Still clinging. Refusing to be removed.

Like it knew I needed its familiar presence to anchor me.

A faint trill sounded at my side.

Zep. Bandaged, and curled tight against my hip. His wings twitched in his sleep.

That stupid, loyal little thing had thrown himself between me and a warlord.

And survived.

Just like me.

Just like us.

A knot in my chest unraveled.

They’d made it.

We’d made it.

All of us.

I took a sip of water. Then another. Let the cool water wash away memories of pain and fear.

Set the glass down. My hands still shook.

Zayrik didn’t move. Just waited, letting me find my way back to myself.

To him.

I finally asked the question sitting in my lungs.

The one that needed answering before I could breathe properly again.

“What... happened?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His jaw flexed once.

Then his fingers tightened, just enough to be grounding.

“You’re safe,” he said.

I stared at him. “That’s not what I asked.”

A breath. He nodded once.

Accepting that I needed truth more than protection.

“Vask is dead.”

I blinked. Not in disbelief.

Just... processing.

Through our bond, I felt the echo of Zayrik’s cold satisfaction, his absolute certainty that the threat was eliminated.

Dead.

After everything.

After years of running.

After nightmares and fear and constant looking over my shoulder.

Gone.

And yet, the relief didn’t come the way I expected.

Didn’t crash like freedom should.

Because I didn’t know how to stop running.

Didn’t know how to live without fear as my companion.

I swallowed hard. “How?”

Needing to know.

Needing to understand.

He hesitated. Just a beat.

“Protectorate breach team. I led them in before he could leave the station.”

I searched his face. “You waited?”

He nodded. “Barely.”

My gaze dropped to my lap.

He hadn’t gone alone.

Hadn’t let vengeance override strategy.

And somehow, that hurt and healed all at once.

Because he’d chosen to be smart instead of just deadly.

Had chosen to ensure he’d reach me instead of just rushing in.

“Where’s the crystal?”

The question that had driven everything.

That had started all of this.

“I gave it to the Commander. It’s already in Protectorate custody.”

I exhaled slowly.

That part was over.

The mission. The running. The constant fear of discovery.

But the weight didn’t lift.

Not really.

Because freedom doesn’t feel like anything at first.

It just stops hurting.

Stops pressing against your lungs with every breath.

Zep stirred at my side, his claws twitching. I stroked his tiny head, and he settled again with a sleepy huff.

Nav’s tone was faint. Dry. “Would now be a bad time to say ‘I told you so’?”

My constant companion. My first friend.

Still here. Still snarking.

I smiled. Weak, but real.

The first real smile since before Vask.

Since before everything changed.

Zayrik didn’t smile, but his gaze softened.

“What now?” I asked, voice quiet. The question that had haunted me for years.

That had driven every decision.

That now felt both terrifying and full of possibility.

He smirked. Just slightly. “Whatever we want.”

I didn’t look away. Didn’t breathe. Because at last, there was no next move.

No plan. No escape.

Just him.

I didn’t need an exit plan.

I had him.

“What if I don’t know?” I whispered.

He reached for my hand with a gentle certainty. “You don’t have to.”

I looked down at his fingers curled around mine. Not demanding. Just there.

Mine to take or let go.

I curled mine around his. Slowly.

He exhaled, like he’d been waiting for that moment.