Was it? She turned the question over in her mind, examining it from every angle she could think of. Those men had been following orders—Martin’s orders, GenCon’s orders—but thoseorders had included capturing or killing an innocent being whose only crime was existing. They’d been complicit in what would have been murder, or worse.
And if their bodies were found on this ledge, with evidence of combat, with traces of Rhyx’s presence…
“No,” she heard herself say. “It’s not wrong. It’s just… necessary.”
Rhyx nodded, accepting her verdict without judgment. He bent down, lifting the first guard with the same casual strength that had crushed Martin’s hand, and carried him to the edge of the ledge. For a moment he stood there, silhouetted against the pale sky, the body cradled in his arms like a sleeping child.
Then he let go.
Alina flinched at the sound—or rather, the absence of sound. The guard fell silently, tumbling end over end through the thin air, growing smaller and smaller until he was just a dark speck against the distant canyon floor.
The second guard followed moments later.
“It’s done.” Rhyx turned away from the edge, his expression unreadable. “They will be found with Martin. Three men who fell while exploring unstable terrain.”
“And the weapons? The equipment?”
“Scattered in the fall.” He gestured towards the cave entrance. “We should retrieve your samples quickly. There may be others approaching.”
He was right. She knew he was right. But she couldn’t quite make herself move, couldn’t stop staring at the empty ledge where three men had been standing just minutes ago.
I’m protecting him. This is what it takes to protect him.
The justification felt hollow, but it was the only one she had. She’d chosen Rhyx—chosen him over her career, her safety, her comfortable certainties about right and wrong. This was what that choice looked like in practice. Not the romantic fantasy of star-crossed lovers, but the cold reality of bodies tumbling into canyons and lies that would have to be maintained for the rest of her life.
“Alina.” Rhyx was beside her suddenly, his hand warm on her shoulder. “You did not kill them. I did.”
“I know.”
“Then do not carry their weight.” His voice was gentle but firm. “They were threats to my mate. Eliminating threats is my purpose. I do not regret it, and neither should you.”
She wanted to argue. Wanted to explain that it wasn’t that simple, that human morality was more complicated than threats and mates and purpose. But the words wouldn’t come, because deep down, in the parts of herself she didn’t like to examine too closely…
She didn’t regret it either.
Martin had tried to kill her. Had pressed a knife against her throat and shoved her towards a fatal drop because she’d rejected him, because she’d chosen someone else, because his fragile ego couldn’t handle the word no. The guards had beenprepared to shoot Rhyx, to drag him away in chains, to deliver him to GenCon’s laboratories for dissection and study.
They’d made their choices. Rhyx had made his.
And she’d made hers.
“Let’s get the samples,” she said, surprised by how steady her voice sounded. “Then we need to find Jeb and Mattie. We need a plan.”
Rhyx nodded, something like approval flickering in his blue eyes. He released her shoulder and moved towards the cave entrance, his body language shifting from protector to partner as he fell into step beside her.
They had work to do. Plans to make. A future to build, somehow, in the shadow of everything that had just happened.
But first, the samples. First, the evidence of what Mars had once been and could be again. First, the seeds of hope that she’d risked everything to gather.
She followed Rhyx into the darkness of the cave, leaving the empty ledge and its terrible secrets behind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The path down the mountain was treacherous, narrow enough in places that Rhyx had to turn sideways to navigate the gaps between weathered boulders. His boots—borrowed from Jeb, still slightly too small—scraped against loose scree as he guided Alina through the shadows of an ancient rockfall.
She is quiet.
He’d learned to read her silences over the past weeks. This one was heavy, weighted with thoughts she wasn’t ready to share. Her hand remained clasped in his, her grip tight enough that he could feel the flutter of her pulse against his palm, but her eyes were distant, focused on some inner landscape he couldn’t follow.
