I let out a breath. “It means we’re not done. We just have to learn how to fight without destroying each other.”
“Think we can?”
I look up at him. “I think we already are.”
Another beat of silence.
Then, like the idiot he is, he sticks out his hand. “Truce?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“I’m trying to be symbolic here.”
I take his hand. It’s warm. Solid.
“Fine,” I say. “Truce.”
We shake on it like a couple of old generals.
But neither of us lets go right away.
CHAPTER 9
NAULL
Ican’t sleep.
Not after what happened in the Meld.
Not after hearing her say“You don’t get to control everything.”
That voice—her voice—it’s still there, tucked into the folds of my brain like a splinter.
Not because it hurt.
Because it was true.
And gods, I hate how much truth can feel like betrayal when you’ve built your whole identity around being unshakable.
I throw on a thermal layer over my undersuit, tug on my boots. Don’t bother zipping the top half. My skin still feels like it’s sparking from the overload. From her. From everything I didn’t say because I was too busy reacting.
I walk.
Nowhere in particular.
Just let my boots echo through the corridors like a heartbeat, passing darkened labs and auto-sorting bays, the war room, the mech bays.
The base is half-lit, running on backup systems. The storm still growls above the surface, shaking dust loose from thebeams. The air smells of coolant and dry metal, recycled a hundred times over. It tastes like confinement. Like guilt.
When I finally stop, it’s in front of the decompression chamber near the surface lock. The storm glass is polarized, but you can still see flickers of the windlights arcing through the Rhavadaz night beyond.
The planet is still screaming.
And for once, I don’t want to scream back.
I press my palm to the barrier, feeling the faint hum of static under the surface. Out there, the winds would skin you in seconds. Shred your lungs with shards of sand. Out there, death wears a thousand masks and dances barefoot across the dunes.
And yet, I envy it.
