I let my cheek rest against his chest, listening. His heartbeat slowed beneath my ear, deep and even, and without meaning to, mine followed—matching it, settling into a rhythm that felt… safer than my own.
I didn’t question it. I didn’t want to.
“Meora.”
Beloved.
I pressed a kiss to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm beneath.
Later, wrapped in warmth and quiet, his breathing even against my shoulder, I let myself believe we had time.
That belief settled deep.
Soft. Certain.
And wrong.
Chapter Thirteen
Breakpoint
Lina
Morning came too soon, all gold light and the clean smell of meltwater.
For once, I woke up warm—not from blankets, but from memory. The night before lingered in my body; a quiet echo I hadn’t realized I’d been starving for.
Rygnar’s arm lay heavy across my waist, his breath slow against my shoulder. For a fragile moment, the mountain felt like more than stone and exile.
Then the courier tag came alive.
The pulse was sharp and electric, blooming beneath my collarbone like a brand. I gasped, jerking upright as the disc flared red beneath my shift.
“No,” I whispered. “No—”
Rygnar was awake instantly. His hand closed over mine before I could tear the chain free. “Hold still.”
The tag pulsed again—stronger. Not just active.
Broadcasting.
A thin, piercing tone rose from the disc, barely audible but wrong in a way that made my blood run cold.
“That’s not standard,” I said. “It shouldn’t make a sound.”
Rygnar was already moving. He swung out of bed and crossed to the door in three strides, palm flattening against the control panel.
Too late.
Voices echoed down the corridor. Footsteps. The ventilation system shifted pitch as someone overrode a local channel.
The sound that followed wasn’t loud, but it was unmistakable—a localized signal, narrow and precise, the kind that didn’t call the stars but screamed to anyone listening close enough.
“It’s bouncing off the inner walls,” Rygnar said. “Amplifying through the comm grid.”
My stomach dropped. “They can hear it?”
“Yes.”
