He rubs a hand across his jaw, brow furrowed. “I say we duck into the shadow of Tyrannus, jettison the human —”
“What?” I cut in, voice more a roar than a question. “You want to dump my mate on a frozen rock and pray she survives until we return?”
Brom flinches — maybe he didn’t expect that. But he recovers before I even finish my thought. “It’s tactical, Kallus. She’s a liability on the battlefield —”
“She’s not a liability,” I snap, teeth bared.
“She’shuman—”
“She’s mine!” I bellow.
The word leaves me like blood in a storm. Hot. Unthinking. Absolute.
And there it is — the truth I’ve been trying to skirt around like a blade at my throat.
Ayla isn’t just someone to protect. She isn’t just a soft thing in a galaxy that eats soft things for breakfast.
She’smine.
Not in that possession-eerily possessive sense the other Reapers think with — not a trophy, not a slave, not a token.
My mate.
The realization doesn’t just settle in my heart — it stakes it.
I lean so close to Brom he can feel the heat radiating off my armor plating. The air between us crackles like shattered plasma.
“Let me make this perfectly clear,” I growl, voice low and dipped in starvation. “I will not sacrifice her. I will not jettison her to a rock with no atmosphere and hope she survives. I will not abandon her for anything, anyone, or any so-called ‘tactical advantage.’”
My claws twitch — bone spurs glinting — not in threat to him, but in warning to the universe.
Brom doesn’t blink, but his voice shakes just slightly. “Captain — they’re Earth forces. They’re hitting planets, intercepting fleets. If we engage, it’s war. Full-scale. Against the IHCandevery faction that dares side with them.”
I step back, breath storming in my chest, and turn my gaze to the viewport.
Below, Tyrannus gleams — savage rains spiraling like battle flags unfurled in lightning. But above that tempest lies a cosmic truth:
No matter who comes for us — forher— we will meet them.
I feel her presence like a burr beneath my skin. Like a heartbeat in the dark.
I don’t know if the universe is ready for a Reaper who fights for love.
But godsdamnif I’m not about to find out.
I pivot back to Brom with a grim, iron grin.
“She’s mine. And I don’t care if we have to fight the galaxy for her.”
There’s a moment of silence — thick, charged, like the seconds before a nova explodes.
Then Brom nods.
Slow.
Respectfully.
Because even a seasoned second-in-command knows when the commander has spoken the final law.
