“Take ten.” I force a smile and the lantern guttering overhead makes the shadow of it stretch across the cave wall, bigger than us.
Nessa’s humming carries through the silence—soft and gentle, like a lullaby for broken worlds. I look over at her curled under the blanket in the corner, one hand clutching Razorclaw tight, her hair fanned out, lashes dark as space. She’s sleeping with her boots on.
I close my eyes for a second and listen: the hum, the distant echoes of alarm still biting at the hangar’s edges, the dull thud of rain—or is that debris?—on the roof. My body aches. My heart aches more.
Vael shifts and I open my eyes, meet his gaze. It’s the closest we’ve been to truth since we started this mess. Fear, determination, sorrow—they’re all there.
“You okay?” I ask, voice soft.
He nods. “Yeah.”
“Does it hurt?”
“More than I like. Less than I feared.”
I breathe out.
“Thank you,” he says.
“For what?”
“For coming back.”
My throat tightens. “I never left.”
He looks at me then, really looks, and I feel something fold inside me—old walls cracking. “I left,” he says. “But you still waited.”
I want to say you came back. I don’t.
Instead I reach for his hand, interlace our fingers. “We end this,” I say quietly, voice trembling. “I don’t want to run anymore.”
His eyes burn gold in the low light. “Neither do I.” He presses his head back, rests it against the wall. “Then let’s endthis.”
The weight of the words hangs heavy. I nod. I lean my head on his shoulder, feeling the metal seam of his arm press into my back. The scrambler collar hums faintly—inconspicuous, but there. A reminder of the lie around his neck.
We hold each other there, silent. The only sound is Nessa’s soft breathing, and the rain-patter of the station’s hull outside.
I track the line of his scar—remember tracing it years ago when we were younger, fearless. Now the scar’s a map of survival. I press a kiss there, brush my lips over the metal edge. “You’re going home,” I whisper. “You’re coming back.”
His fingers flex, pull me closer. “Together.”
Night slips into something darker. The lamps flash less frequently. The hangar’s hollow outside noise—drums of the transport deck, distant locomotives shifting freight. I press a blanket over us. Nessa stirs, murmurs. Vael lifts her gently into his lap, rubs her back slow. I sit beside them.
“What happens now?” I ask, voice small.
Vael’s gaze drops to Nessa, then up to me. “We move. First light. The extraction point is locked, but we’ve got one shot. We’ll vanish beyond Gantry’s net, jump to rimspace, then…” His voice trails.
“Then what?” I say.
“Then we make a life they can’t steal.” He flashes a ragged grin. “New IDs. New sky.”
I nod but the tears I’ve held this long finally slip. I wipe them quickly, swallowing. “I just—wanted you to know. Even if we fail—” I stop.
“We won’t,” he murmurs.
“I know,” I whisper. “Because we’ll fight.”
Vael shifts so he’s facing me. He reaches around me and pulls me in. His lips meet mine, slow and soft—not new, not desperate, just right. The kiss tastes like metal and rain and hope.
