There was a pause on the platform. The kind that stretched. The air itself seemed to lean in.Don’t speak.
Madelaine shifted her weight slightly, the unfamiliar gravity catching her equilibrium just enough to put her offbalance. Her boot scraped against the platform before she was able to correct and keep from falling on her face. She wasn’t supposed to draw attention to herself. That was one of the other rules for women on this planet.
Her boot had made very small sound. Barely anything. But in the stillness around them, it echoed like a vast crack in a sheet of glass.
Every figure on the platform stilled. And yet no one turned toward her. No one acknowledged her existence.
But something changed and their attention sharpened.
The man in front of Jack tilted his head just a fraction.
“Your vessel,” he said slowly, “produces…irregularities.”
Madelaine’s lungs burned.Really? Your vessel?Did that mean her? Wasshethe vessel? Probably.Stop it. Don’t forget your purpose or why you’re here.
Also, don’t breathe. Don’t move. And for the love of all the space potato farms in the universe, don’t speak, call attention to yourself and, most of all, try not to exist.
Jack took another step forward, just enough to pull focus back to himself.
“It is only atmospheric interference,” he said calmly. “Your veil disrupts standard systems. You know that.” In other words, this place had wonky gravity. They knew it and she was only human after all—well, Alpha, but in this instance, she felt it was the same thing.
The man studied Jack for several seconds. Long enough that Madelaine’s pulse roared in her ears. Were they about to be cast aside and kicked out for something that was technically their own planet’s fault or, worse, eliminated?
Then—
“Correct.”
The word dropped like a verdict. The tension didn’t disappear.
It simply shifted and then it seemed the egregious matter of her imbalance because oftheirerratic gravitational anomalies was no longer an issue.
Awesome, she thought sarcastically.
“You will proceed to the lower corridor,” the man continued. “You will be escorted. You will not deviate.”
Jack inclined his head. “Understood.”
A beat.
Then—
“Maintain control of your vessel.”
And this was not a suggestion. It was definitely a warning.
Jack didn’t respond to that. He didn’t have to. His vessel understood clearly her role here, whether she liked it or not. And she did not.
“Follow me and do not deviate from the path.”
“Of course,” Jack said. His fingers at his side signaled once more for her to stay right behind him.
Madelaine followed Jack carefully, taking slow, measured steps, doing her best to match his cadence as they moved along. She pressed her lips together as if that would help her remember she needed to remain absolutely silent.
Every instinct in her screamed to assess, to catalog, to participate—but participation here might mean death. For Jack. For them both. She would keep that front of mind at all times.
The remaining figures on the landing pad parted just enough to create a path. It was a very narrow one and likely deliberately so.
The man who’d “greeted” them walked slowly, seeming to glide along.
