The panel blinks red. Locked.
I snarl and swipe my ID bracelet across the reader. It buzzes. Then—green light.
The door hisses open.
I stumble inside.
The pods are intact. Six of them. Sleek, fast, small. Designed to shoot a diplomat or a noble to safety in seconds. Untouchable. Unless…
Unless someone follows.
I bolt toward the farthest one. The interface wakes up, chirping as it scans for pilot verification.
Then—footsteps.
Not loud.
Heavy.
I spin.
The door’s still open.
But the hallway?
Empty.
The escape pods aren’t far. I have to keep moving…and hope the hall is as empty as it looks.
I take one step out. Another. Each movement deliberate, silent, like my bones might betray me with a creak. The sound of destruction still thunders in the distance—screams, metal tearing, the low thrum of theRelentlessstill latched to our hull. I edge closer to the pod interface, barely daring to breathe.
Fingers shaking, I touch the console. The screen flares to life, cool blue glow washing over my skin.
A whisper of sound behind me.
I freeze.
A shadow shifts on the reflective surface of the pod's hatch. Not a trick of the light.
I spin, heart in my throat.
He’s there.
He doesn’tmove. He doesn’thaveto. He fills the entrance like a living monolith—seven feet of violence sculpted into male form. Jet-black skin that gleams like polished obsidian, wicked white spurs jutting from his shoulders and arms. His long white hair ripples with the motionless tension around him. His eyes…
Those goddamn eyes.
Red, burning with something deeper than hunger. Not lust. Not yet.
Possession.
He’s breathing like he’s just finished running through a warzone—but his chest barely moves. It’s the heat radiating off him that hits me first. His presence presses down on me like a hand, firm and unyielding, even though he hasn't taken a single step.
I don’t move. Can’t.
The air between us crackles.
His gaze devours me.
