I try to sit straighter, ignore the screaming nerves. I want to tell her how much I missed her. That I fought death for her. That her mother and I crossed galaxies to bring her home.
She walks up to my bed, silent as a wraith.
And bites my arm.
Sharp little teeth sink through regrowing skin, right into a fusion seam between old and new tissue. I grunt in pain, but I don’t stop her. Her small hands clutch my forearm, and she growls—a real Reaper growl, low and feral.
Then she lets go, and throws her arms around me.
The laugh that bursts from my chest is half-sob, half-snarl. I bury my hand in her hair and pull her close. She smells like Ayla. Like blood and earth and the fire of our people.
“My daughter,” I whisper, voice cracking. “Without question.”
Chelsea leans back, squints at me. “You were dead.”
I shake my head. “I was angry.”
She nods, like that makes perfect sense, and touches the scar bisecting my chest. “Did it hurt?”
“Everything hurts, little flame. But some things are worth bleeding for.”
She climbs up beside me on the medical cot like she owns the place. Her tiny fingers stroke the edge of one of the bone plates across my chest. “You came for me.”
“Always.”
The door opens again, and Ayla appears—wild-eyed, pale, clutching a mug of something that smells like bloodroot tea. She stumbles as she sees me sitting up, Chelsea curled at my side.
“You’re awake,” she whispers.
“I had to be. She bit me.”
Chelsea beams. “He didn’t scream.”
Ayla laughs, and the sound is so raw, so beautiful, I almost choke on it. She crosses the room in two strides, drops to her knees at the side of the cot, and presses her forehead to mine. I taste her salt tears before I see them.
“You scared me,” she breathes. “Again.”
“I’m consistent, at least.”
She smacks my arm. “Idiot.”
“I missed your temper.”
Her hand cups my cheek, trembling. “We’re safe now. For a moment. We did it, Kallus. We have her. We have each other.”
I shift, groaning, trying to pull her onto the cot beside me. The medbay groans in protest—bones and metal and tech not built for three—but I don’t care. I hold them both.
And for the first time in years, I feel whole.
Just for a moment.
Just long enough.
Then the comm pings. Urgent. Arix’s voice. “Kallus. Ayla. We’ve got incoming chatter on IHC channels. Movement near the outer belt. We may not be clear yet.”
Ayla’s head snaps up. Her eyes meet mine.
The battle’s not over.
