"I keep thinking about the second camp," I admitted. "The corporations killed all of them. Because of what we did."
"Because of what the corporations did," Lyrin corrected. "You didn't create the system that treats human beings as resources to be exploited. Their blood belongs to the ones who built it, not to the ones trying to dismantle it."
He wasn't offering absolution. He was telling me where the blame actually belonged.
It didn't erase the weight I carried, but it softened its sharpest edges.
"I don't know how to be this person," I said. "The one who makes these kinds of calls and keeps going."
Lyrin's hand tightened around mine.
"None of us do. That's why we question ourselves. The moment we stop questioning is the moment we become the same as the corporations." He met my eyes. "And you never have to make those choices alone."
Something loosened in my chest. My desire to be isolated.
I leaned into him. Slowly at first, then all at once, my head finding the curve of his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me closer.
"I'm different now," I whispered.
"Yes."
"And that doesn't scare you?"
His gaze held mine. Steady, and unflinching.
"It makes me love you more."
I touched his face, and he leaned into my palm.
"Kira?" he asked.
"Yes."
He kissed me.
It wasn't like the kiss on the shuttle, a lifeline thrown into chaos. This was slower. Intentional. I opened to him, letting him in.
The Tether flared with his want. His patience. His steady presence wrapping around me. At the edges, the others, Kaedren, Vaelix, and Torvyn, present without intrusion. Holding space.
He pulled back just enough to speak against my lips.
"Tell me what you need."
"I need to feel like myself again."
Recognition answered through the bond. He stood and offered me his hand.
He led me to his quarters, which were dim, lit only by ambient glow.
"We can stop whenever you want," he said. "You set the pace."
I closed the distance and kissed him.
This time, I didn't hold back. I let him feel everything through the Tether. The fear, the exhaustion, the strange new certainty taking root inside me. He took it all in without flinching.
We undressed slowly. No rush. No performance. Just the quiet intimacy of fabric slipping away, skin meeting skin. When his shirt came off, I pressed my palms to his chest, grounding myself in the steady beat of his heart.
"You're still in there," he murmured. "The person you were."
