And Zayne would sacrifice everything in this empire, even his own rebellion, for her.
“I swear, Zayne Riven.” She gripped his wrist, her touch electric. “You don't get to die for me. If you do, I'll never escape this place. You have to stay alive.”
“I will.” It was the only time in his life he meant it.
Soon, they'd both leave this prison and never return.
When Zayne left Kira in her cell, the urgency that first drove him out of the prison still coursed through him, but she'd forced him to take the time to think.
He felt exactly the same as in a war zone when he sensed the barrel of a gun aimed at him and the people he cared about. And right now, there was a gun pointed at Kira.
It wasn't possible to control this rage, and yet he couldn't jeopardize her.
Zayne mustered his willpower to pause in the hallway and look up at the camera. He didn't try to hide the intensity he felt. The Phaedra knew about how deeply he cared for Kira and that he'd want to hurt his brother, just like when he broke Dr. Cooper's collarbone.
“Did I pass your test?” A deep breath. The kind that could save his life in the moments between life and death. “If she wasn't mine before, she is now. So, you finally have her.” His eyes narrowed. “Luke never gets to touch her again.”
He gave in to what his body demanded, charging straight for his brother's office.
The ride across the base didn't cool his wrath, nor the walk through the building. Finding Luke sitting at his desk, with his wounded arm in a sling, and his hand writing rapidly across a notebook, Zayne saw all that his hands had done.
“Whose idea was it?” Zayne asked. “Yours or the Phaedra's?”
Luke's hand paused, and his eyes slowly rose to meet Zayne's. “I'm surprised you waited so long to find me.”
“You mean you're surprised your other arm isn't already in a sling.”
“Yes. That is what I meant. Although you might find it harder to break my bones than Dr. Cooper's.”
In fact, he had found that to be much harder. Their fight at the United base could have killed either one of them. Zayne never allowed his feelings for his brother to cloud his judgment of the other man's capabilities. He was a sharp, ruthless, excellent soldier. Through childhood and adulthood, they both sacrificed any time for leisure to pursue the kind of specialized, advanced training that a versatile High General needed. To become the best in Ciondo. To master every deadly art they'd one day lead.
The Phaedra was the enemy of the people. The great enemy of Zayne's life.
But his brother was his true adversary in every way.
“I know how hard you'd be to kill.” Zayne still imagined doing it, even though he hadn't brought himself to inflict that serious wound when they fought. “Answer my question.”
“It's hard to say. The idea came up over a game of chess in his office.”
Zayne savored the thought of hurting him. “Are you satisfied with your results?”
“The Phaedra certainly is. He was pleased to see you take the opportunity to bond your prisoner to you.” Luke's eyes bored into Zayne's. “But I know you, brother. I know the weakness in your spirit.”
Zayne lowered himself into the chair in front of Luke's desk, holding his stare. “Because you're always watching.”
A snarl. “I'm always watching.”
“Too bad you weren't always watching Mom.” He hardened his heart against the agony of uttering such words. “She might be alive if you didn't waste your time on me.”
The hints of life in Luke's eyes faded just like watching a man die.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
Zayne felt each distinctly.
