“Then you’ll get us both killed,” I hiss.
“You really think I can’t protect her?”
I laugh—a bitter, broken sound. “You couldn’t even protectyourself.”
That one lands. His face goes hard.
I regret it instantly.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
But he doesn’t soften. “No. You’re not.”
“I am,” I say again, louder. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
He watches me like he’s trying to memorize the shape of my fear.
“I never stopped loving you,” he says finally.
My eyes sting. “I know.”
He steps in close again, gently this time.
“And I willnotbe a shadow to my own child.”
I press my palm to his chest.
“And I will not hand her over to a man being tracked by Alliance intelligence, under medbay lockdown, who’s got a file thicker than a warship hull.”
He grabs my wrist.
“Then give me areason.Give me anything that tells me this isn’t just fear talking.”
My voice cracks. “She’s just a little girl. She has a favorite spoon. She’s scared of the dark. She sings to the stars at night.”
His grip loosens.
“She’s not ready for you,” I say. “And you’re not ready forher.”
He lets go.
The silence between us turns brittle.
Then he speaks, quiet, but sharp: “Then you better get ready to lose control, Rynn. Because I’m done waiting.”
He turns, walks to the door.
Pauses.
“I won’t lose another cycle of her life because of your fear.”
And then he’s gone.
I don’t breathe for a full minute.
When I do, it’s shallow and painful.
Nessa’s face floats behind my eyes, wide and trusting.
