The heir’s careful control is gone.
All that remains is the predator. The mate. The male who will burn worlds to protect what he loves.
We round a corner, and there they are—Meridian soldiers in black tactical armor, cutting through a blast door with industrial torches. They see us a fraction of a second too late.
Henrok’s roar shakes the walls.
And then there is only fire, fury, and the thunder of war.
Through the bond, I feel Polly’s heart racing, feel her whispered prayer:Come back to me.
I will.
But first, I’m going to show the Consortium exactly what they tried to harvest.
Exactly what they should have left alone.
13
Sisters in Arms
Polly
Theblastdoorssealbehind Rynn with a hiss of hydraulics and a finality that hits me like a physical blow.
For a moment, I just stand there, staring at the obsidian barrier that separates me from the man I love. Through the bond, I feel him moving deeper into the fortress—his determination sharp as a blade, his focus absolute. Underneath it all, steady and warm: his love for me. His promise to come back.
It helps. Not enough, but it helps.
“Polly.” Suki’s voice cuts through my spiral. “I need you here. With me. Now.”
I turn. She’s already at her console, her fingers flying across holographic controls, her face lit by the blue-white glow of tactical displays. The upload bar crawls past 39%. Behind her, Vex’ra coordinates defensive squads through a dozen comm channels at once, her melodious voice calm despite the chaos.
“Right.” I shake myself, force my hands to stop trembling. Rynn needs me functional, not falling apart. “What’s our status?”
“Deteriorating rapidly.” Suki pulls up the tactical map, and my stomach drops. Red icons swarm the fortress like angry hornets—dozens of them, maybe more. “Three main breach points. Henrok and Rynn are heading here—” she highlights a cluster of red near the power generators, “—where the heaviest assault is concentrated. If those generators fall, shields go down. Fleet glasses us from orbit.”
“And us?”
“We get the fun part.” Her smile is sharp, feral. “Elite squad, moving fast through the western corridors. ETA three minutes. They’re coming straight for the War Room. For the Relay.”
I look at the crystal, still pulsing with inner light, still feeding data up to the Quantum Relay. Everything we’ve fought for.Everything Rynn’s grandmother died to protect. Everything his family needs to survive.
40%.
“So we hold,” I say.
“So we hold.” Suki moves toward a section of wall that looks like solid obsidian, her movements quick and sure. “But first, we arm ourselves properly. Because I don’t know about you, Rocket, but I’m really tired of corporate assholes trying to kill my friends.”
She kicks the wall—hard, precisely, in a spot I would never have noticed—and a hidden panel slides open.
The weapons locker behind it makes my mouth water.
“Oh,” I breathe. “Suki. You beautiful, paranoid genius.”
Pulse rifles in gleaming rows. Plasma pistols with custom grips. EMP grenades nested like lethal eggs. Some of it is clearly Zaterran military-grade—crystalline power cores, obsidian bayonets that hum with barely contained violence. But mixed in with the alien tech, I see familiar modifications. Jury-rigged power couplings. The duct-tape-and-prayer aesthetic that screams Fringe engineering.
“Is this OOPS tech?” I step closer, recognizing a pulse rifle that looks exactly like the one Suki used to run with in the Cassian Nebula. “Did you bring your entire armory when you moved here?”
