TATEK
Her hand stays on my sleeve longer than it should.
Not in hesitation. Not in fear.
In connection.
And it undoes me.
Not all at once. Not in some cinematic swell of revelation. But in small, shattering waves that pull the floor out from under me one breath at a time. I felt her panic before I saw her surrounded. Felt it like heat under my skin, rising sharp and sickening as if it were mine.
That shouldn’t be possible.
Not like this.
But it is.
The bond has taken root.
No, not root—anchor.
I know the signs. We’re taught them early, in whispered tones behind barracks walls. Vakutan soul-bonds are rare. Dangerous. They require proximity, vulnerability, trust forged under duress. They’re not romanticized. They’re warned against.
Because once it’s solidified, it doesn’tbreak.
It burns.
And right now, I feel like I’m standing too close to a star that chose to orbit me.
I lead her through the corridor in silence, every footstep measured. The tunnels around us narrow and slope deeper into the understructure, old maintenance paths and power conduits forgotten by even the most thorough audits. My HUD glitches once—just a flicker—but even that’s enough to raise every hair on the back of my neck.
She’s walking beside me, quiet.
She thinks I’m steady.
She doesn’t know I’m one wrong glance from coming apart.
Because the image won’t stop replaying.
Her—cornered, trying to stall those guards with nothing but her wit and her breath and those sharp, stubborn eyes. The way she didn’t panic. The way she bought time.
I’ve taken hits to the chest that hurt less.
I could’ve lost her.
And something inside meknewit.
Not just in thought. Infeeling.
In the marrow of me.
I don’t speak until we reach the end of the corridor—a secured chamber built into the reactor subgrid. The air is warmer here, humming with residual energy. It smells like dust and ozone. I key in the bypass manually. No hacks. No tech.
Just silence.
The door groans open.
Mara steps in first. Glances around. “This looks like a power relay station.”
