The door slides open, spilling cold corridor light across the floor.
She hesitates on the threshold. Doesn’t look back. Just says, “Try not to rip anything open while I’m gone.”
“Can’t promise that,” I mutter.
The door closes.
I’m alone again.
The machines keep humming.
The sedatives kick in slow, dulling the edges of pain but not the ache behind my ribs.
That’s the one place they can’t reach. The part that still remembers her fingers tracing the scar on my chest, whispering that it made me human.
Now I’m half machine, and she looks at me like I’m a stranger.
Maybe I am.
I flex the new arm, watch the servos glide under my skin.
Whoever built this didn’t know Vakutan design — too polished, too silent. Ours are supposed tosoundalive. The hum, the growl, the warning. This feels like a cage pretending to be a body.
But the pain’s manageable.
The silence isn’t.
I replay every second since I woke. The way her hand shook when she touched me. The way she looked at me like I was something between miracle and curse.
Something happened to her.
Something that scarred her deeper than the war ever could.
And I need to know what it is.
Not for revenge.
Not even for closure.
For understanding.
Because whatever she’s carrying — it’s heavy enough that she’s willing to lie to my face to keep it buried.
And I’ve lived my whole life tearing apart the things that hide in the dark.
So that’s what I’ll do.
I’ll heal. I’ll get my strength back. I’ll play the good soldier, the obedient patient.
And when the time’s right, I’ll find out what she’s hiding.
Even if it kills me.
CHAPTER 3
RYNN
Nessa’s body is warm against mine, all wiry limbs and little shivers.
