“Yes.” He would have recognized the cyborg’s heavy tread anywhere, even filtered through layers of rock and soil. “They’re watching for us.”
Sure enough, when they rounded the final bend, they found Jeb and Mattie waiting at the edge of the claim. The cyborg stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable, while Mattie hovered at his elbow with worry clear in every line of her body.
“Thank the stars.” Mattie rushed forward as soon as they came into view, wrapping Alina in a fierce hug that seemed to surprise them both. “When we heard the vehicles heading towards the mountains, we thought—we were afraid?—”
“We’re fine.” Alina returned the embrace awkwardly, her pack bumping against Mattie’s shoulder. “It was close, but we’re fine.”
“You’re not fine.” Jeb’s voice was flat, his enhanced eyes scanning them both with the clinical precision of his cybernetic systems. “You’re covered in dust, your pulse is elevated, and you smell like copper and fear.”
“Jeb.” Mattie shot him a reproachful look.
“What? She said they were fine. They’re not fine. I’m just being accurate.”
Despite everything, Rhyx felt his lips twitch. The cyborg’s bluntness was oddly comforting—a straightforward contrast to the layers of deception and manipulation that seemed to characterize most human interaction.
“He’s right.” Alina stepped back from Mattie’s embrace, her shoulders squaring with visible effort. “We’re not fine. A lot happened today, and we need to talk about it.”
Jeb’s eyes narrowed. “Inside. Now.”
The habitat dome was warm and close, its filtered air carrying the faint scent of the protein supplements that seemed to comprise most of Mattie’s diet. Rhyx settled onto the floor near the entrance, his back against the curved wall, while Alina took a seat at the small table across from their hosts.
“Start from the beginning,” Jeb said. “Don’t leave anything out.”
So Alina told them. About the GenCon vehicles, about the pursuit through the tunnels, about emerging at the cave opening only to find Martin and his guards waiting. About the confrontation, the knife at her throat, the moment of perfect terror when Martin had shoved her towards the ledge.
About the wings.
Jeb’s expression didn’t change throughout the recounting, but Mattie’s eyes grew wider with each revelation. When Alina finally fell silent, the little dome was thick with unspoken questions.
“Wings,” Jeb said flatly.
“Yes.”
“You’re telling me he can fly.”
“Yes.” Alina’s voice was steady, but Rhyx could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands had clenched together in her lap. “I saw it, Jeb. I felt it. He carried me out of there.”
“Show me.”
Rhyx hesitated. The memory of unfurling his wings was still fresh, still raw—a sensation so profound it had felt like returning to himself after centuries of absence. But the dome was small, its ceiling low, and the thought of releasing that part of himself in such a confined space felt wrong.
“Outside,” he said. “There is not enough room here.”
Jeb studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Later, then. For now, I need to understand what happened to Martin and his guards.”
“They fell.” Alina’s voice was flat. “All three of them.”
“Fell.”
“Martin stumbled backward and went over the edge. The guards…” She paused, her throat working. “The guards were already dead when Rhyx moved the bodies. He made it look like they fell with Martin.”
Mattie made a small, distressed sound. Jeb’s expression remained impassive.
“You killed them,” he said, addressing Rhyx directly.
“Yes.” There was no point in denying it. “They threatened my mate. They would have captured or killed me to please their masters. I eliminated the threat.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
