Mother squeezes my shoulder—quick, firm, the closest thing to affection she allows in public.
“You scared me, kid.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” Her voice is gruff. “You did good. Both of you.”
It’s not “I’m proud of you.” Mother doesn’t say things like that. But it’s close enough.
It’s more than enough.
Later—much later—I sit with Rynn in the medical bay.
The fortress is secured. The upload is confirmed received by the Valorian High Council. Suki and Henrok are handling cleanup with the efficiency of people who’ve run this Fortress for three years. Mother is coordinating with Luzrak on the “diplomatic clusterfuck” (her words) that our little adventure has created.
And me?
I’m holding my mate’s hand and trying to process the fact that we survived.
“The betting pool,” Rynn murmurs, eyes closed but mouth curved in a smile. “Your Mother had a betting pool on whether we would bond.”
“She has a betting pool oneverything.” I trace circles on his palm with my thumb. “Last year, there was apparently a pool on which courier would be the first to accidentally trigger a mating bond with an actual package. She won that one too.”
“She seems... formidable.”
“She’s terrifying. In the best possible way.”
Through the bond, I feel his contentment. His exhaustion. His absolute certainty that everything we went through was worth it.
I would do it again, he sends. *Every choice. Every moment. Everything that led me to you.*
Even the part where you almost died? Multiple times?
Especially that part. It led to you saving me. Which seems to be a pattern.
I lean down and kiss his forehead. His scales are cool now, the bio-flare fully depleted, but he still smells like smoke and ozone andhome.
“Get some rest, Lord Chaos. We’ve got a lot of family drama ahead of us.”
“Your family or mine?”
“Both. Definitely both.”
His laugh is weak but real. “I look forward to it.”
Outside the medical bay, I can hear Mother’s voice rising in what sounds like a heated discussion with Valorian Fleet Command. Something about “chain of custody” and “proper diplomatic channels” and “I don’t care if he’s your precious heir, he’s also my courier’s mate, which makes him OOPS jurisdiction until further notice.”
I grin.
We’re going to be okay.
More than okay—we’re going to befamily. The messy, complicated, found-family kind that shows up with betting pools and wedding gift baskets and lectures about attractive passengers. The kind that crosses three sectors to save you. The kind that’s worth fighting for.
I amabsolutelygetting reassigned to mail sorting after this.
Worth it.
Worth it, Rynn agrees through the bond.Always worth it.
