I stand in the doorway a long time, watching my son sleep. His breathing is slow and even. His arm wraps around that crooked little plush like it’s armor.
My throat tightens.
I lean down, kiss his forehead. Whisper, “You’re everything.”
Then I slip out before I can lose my nerve.
The night airbites at my cheeks as I walk. Haven-7 is calm tonight, the hum of traffic low, the streetlamps throwing puddlesof gold across the wet pavement. Somewhere in the distance, a ship lifts off—a hollow sound that rattles through the bones.
I keep moving.
Each step steadier than the last.
When I reach the orphanage gate, I stop. The building glows faintly under the lamplight, windows lined with paper stars and the muffled laughter of children still awake past curfew.
I stand there, my heart pounding.
Because this isn’t just a walk to him.
It’s a walk toward everything I’ve been afraid to want.
I grip the strap of my bag.
And I whisper to the night, to myself, to the ghosts still clinging to me?—
“Okay, Jav. I’m coming.”
Then I push open the gate and step inside.
CHAPTER 44
JAV
The clatter of trays and the chaos of ten hungry kids fills the Redscale orphanage’s dining room with its usual storm. Plates bang. Someone launches a roll like a warhead. There’s fruit paste on the ceiling from last week still drying out like abstract art.
And I’m here in the middle of it, trying to scrape sweetroot mash onto plates before the kids mutiny.
“I swear,” I mutter, wiping sweat from my brow, “y’all eat like you been starvin’ since Tuesday.”
One of the older girls grins up at me with her front teeth missing. “That’s ‘cause your food don’t taste like sand no more.”
“Flattery’ll get you seconds,” I shoot back, flicking a spoonful her way. She dodges it with a giggle, clutching her tray like treasure.
It’s loud. Sticky. Joyful.
And every second of it feels like an unfamiliar blessing I don’t deserve.
I’m still trying to figure out what this life means—me, with no orders to bark, no gun under the table, no enemies on my tail. Just children. And the quiet echo of who I used to be.
So when the front gate creaks open, I figure it’s Garkin, back with another crate of recycled toy parts.
But it’s not.
It’s her.
Kairo.
Walking straight through the courtyard, eyes steady, like she’s already made her mind up and the world better catch up.
