His posture doesn’t shift. He takes the message. I taste cold inside; the tea behind his glass rim is bitter, metallic. I think of the rumors on Earth, the paranoia about off-worlders, the centuries of fear and hate. The Reaper history—etched into war tombs and whispered in nightmares—doesn’t help. The IHC doesn’t protect him. The planet doesn’t trust him. And neither do I… not all the way.
He scans the notice, the simple red text stabbing at him:report for deportation proceedings.Non-citizen Reaper. The world upside-down.
Then he looks up at me. His eyes are wild but calm—storm-quiet.
“Let them try,” he growls. His voice low. The cup clinks against the counter. I feel the metal’s cold. I freeze.
“But Earth—” I start.
His hand comes up, fingers brushing mine as they still hold the message. It’s an anchor and a warning. “It’s not just about me anymore,” I whisper. My voice cracks. “It’s about Pepper. Our daughter.”
Silence. I see the flicker in his eyes. I should feel triumph—yes, I should—but I feel dread. The headline I imagine hits melike a wave:Alien War Criminal Hiding in Holo-Star’s Home.Child of Unknown Parentage Exposed.I taste bitterness, my throat raw.
He shifts. Steps closer. The faint leather scent of his jacket surrounds me. The hum of the city outside stutters in my ears. I press the message into my palm. “I’m—I’m sorry I’ve kept this from you.”
His teeth show slightly. Not a grin. Not fury. Something else. “I figured,” he says calmly. Then quiet: “But thank you for saying it.”
My knees buckle. The words echo in the room like gunshots. I laugh even though the tears start. Half laugh. Half sob. The weight of years lifts off me in that moment: the lies, the fear, the secret. I exhale—hard—and inhale all the air I’ve been holding.
“Pepper… she’s yours,” I blurt. The words are reckless. The world shifts.
I see the storm flicker in his eyes. The predator shape dissolves into something gentler. I see relief. I see love. I see him. Not the warrior. Not the myth. The man I stood beside on set, the man who held her in craft services, the man who sang a lullaby I thought only I remembered.
He steps into me. I feel his belt buckle press against my stomach. Warmth, safe. I smell ozone and the faint tang of jam from Pepper’s hair. I see his face tilt. Then he smiles—soft, warm, knowing.
“You don’t have to apologize,” he murmurs. “I already claimed you as mine—but if you want official rings and paperwork, fine.”
My breath hitches. I laugh through the tears. “Yes,” I whisper. “Please.”
He lifts a hand, strokes my cheek, palm warm against my skin. I feel the rough callus under his thumb. I breathe it in. I taste salt. I taste hope.
“Then it’s done,” he says. “We’re done hiding.”
The apartment fades around us—lights, city hum, looming IHC storm. It’s just him and me. And Pepper. Our family, forged in war and shadows and secrets.
I wrap my arms around him. He holds me tight. We cling fierce and shaking. My tears soak his shirt. His guts tremble under the armor jacket. We don’t need words. Not now. I breathe his scent, feel his heartbeat. I whisper, “I love you.”
He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes. “And I love this little part of you,” he says softly. He lifts one hand to brush a curl behind my ear, his fingers ghosting over the top of the inducer pack hidden in my hair. “And her.” He glances behind me to where the bedroom door stands ajar, the golden blanket flicker of sleeping child.
“I loveyou all,” I whisper.
He nods. “Then nothing will stop us.”
My heart coasts. The future looms—hard, relentless. The IHC countdown edge, the studio demands, the image-inducer that still hums like a bomb—it all hangs there. But for now, I lean into him. I let trust settle in my chest like a seed.
He kisses my forehead. “Let’s go home.”
And we move together, quiet and pledged, into the night.
CHAPTER 34
GYON
The days leading up to our wedding ceremony are far from empty. There is much to be done. Preparations to be made. But I still find time to spend with Liora when we sneak a few moments to ourselves. I ambush Liora in the bedroom while Pepper is at daycare, mauling her with my mouth.
Her mouth is hot, open, demanding. I groan into it, pressing her against the wall. My cock is already hard, straining beneath my belt. She grinds against me and I lose my grip on restraint.
My claws press into the wall beside her head. She arches, pushing her pussy against me through the thin fabric of her dress.
