“And instead of being angry, you built an entire defensive strategy around keeping me here.”
“I was angry.” I turn to face her. “Furious. Hurt. But anger doesn’t solve problems. Strategy does.”
“This is insane, Cetus. The PDC inspection—you could lose funding, credibility, everything—”
“I could lose you.” The words emerge raw. Honest. “That’s unacceptable.”
She’s shaking her head. “You barely know me—”
“I know enough.” I close the distance between us. “I know you make my daughter laugh. I know you fixed my station’s power grid in three hours. I know you remember how I take my coffee. I know you were willing to face collectors alone to protect us.” I frame her face with my hands. “I know you’re worth fighting for.”
“Cetus—”
“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me the last three days haven’t mattered. Tell me you don’t feel this.” I let the harmonics intensify. Claiming frequency. “Tell me, Dove.”
She rises on her toes, hands fisting in my shirt. “You’re not wrong.”
“Then stay. Let me protect you. Let us face this together.”
“It’s a terrible plan—”
“It’s the only plan I’m accepting.”
“You’re being completely irrational—”
“Completely,” I agree. “And I don’t care.”
We’re breathing the same air. Her hands on my chest. My markings blazing gold across both of us.
I’m going to kiss her. Right now. Consequences be damned—
“Priority alert,” Pickles announces, and we spring apart. “PDC response received. Inspection team ETA: thirty-six hours, fourteen minutes. I have also received updated tracking data on the Blackstar Collective vessel. Their ETA has been... revised.”
Ice floods my veins. “Revised to what?”
“Thirty-six hours, nineteen minutes,” Pickles says quietly. “They’re accelerating. Captain Foxton’s tracking signature musthave triggered an automated alert when we transmitted the evidence package.”
Dove’s face goes white. “They know we’re moving against them.”
“Which means they’re desperate,” I say. “Desperate people make mistakes.”
“Or desperate people become more dangerous—”
“Either way, we’re ready.” I turn to Pickles. “Confirm PDC team’s exact arrival time. I want security protocols active eight hours before either ship arrives. And send me that tactical analysis you mentioned.”
“The comprehensive defensive analysis with enthusiastically detailed illustrations of optimal firing positions, security protocols, and emergency evacuation procedures?”
“Emergency evacuation?” Dove’s voice cracks slightly.
“Contingency planning,” I assure her. “We won’t need it.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I’m not letting anyone take you.” I meet her eyes. “No matter what it costs.”
The weight of those words settles between us. Promise. Claim. Certainty.
“Thirty-six hours,” she whispers.
