Page 18 of Primal Bond

A wave of self-loathing washed over him, mingling with the ever-present fear that gnawed at his insides. He hated how weak he felt, how vulnerable. How had it come to this? He'd just been a kid who wanted to see the stars, to have adventures.

Now he was a thing to own, a pet, his fate constantly out of his hands.

If he had been stronger, smarter, more resilient...

But he wasn’t. He was just Finn, a guy with no family, no one to rely on but himself.

So this is what it’s come to, huh? Lying in a Borraq’s bed, eating scraps, and dreaming of a strength I’ll never have. Pathetic, Finn.

Yet, beneath the bitterness of his thoughts, there was a flicker of something else.

Maybe it was the pastry, or the strange, confusing kindness Zanik had shown by buying it. Maybe it was the grudging respect he felt for his new ally, despite everything.

Or maybe it was the stubborn ember of hope that refused to be snuffed out, no matter how dark things got.

Finn closed his eyes, trying to hold onto that ember. Tomorrow would be another day, another chance to prove he wasn’t as weak as he felt.

All he had to do was get to tomorrow… But that was a long night away.

Trying to sleep was going to be a waste of time, he could already tell that. Finn slipped out of his quarters, moving quietly through the dim corridors of the ship.

After their pact, Zanik had unlocked the door to his quarters. Finn could now move through some of the Ironclad — though the bridge and docking bay were still strictly off limits. He could go to the shower block or the mess, but not steal a gun or hijack the ship. Pfft, where was the fun in that?

The soft hum of the engines was a constant companion, a backdrop to Finn's restless thoughts. His bare feet padded silently on the cold metal floor as he made his way to the mess. A glass of water might calm his mind.

But when he got there, it was occupied.

Zanik sat at one of the tables, bathed in the soft, ambient light of the ship’s night lighting. He was dressed casually, a stark contrast to his usual black leather armor. The sight caught Finn off guard; he had never seen Zanik so... relaxed.

Zanik’s muscular form was outlined by the dim light, every contour of his body seeming more pronounced in the shadows. His horns cast long shadows on the walls. The intensity in Zanik’s eyes was still there, though softened by an uncharacteristic weariness.

Finn cleared his throat, stepping into the room. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his voice light, masking the vulnerability that gnawed at him. “Thought you’d be in the bridge.”

Zanik’s gaze lifted, locking onto Finn. “Couldn’t sleep,” he replied, his voice carrying a tiredness that surprised Finn. There was a hint of frustration there, a rare crack in Zanik’s usual stoic demeanor.

Finn moved to the dispenser, pouring himself a glass of water. “Join the club,” he muttered, taking a sip. “Seems like it's hard to get much rest these days.”

Zanik’s eyes followed Finn’s movements. Finn could feel the tension in the air, the silent challenge that always seemed toaccompany their interactions. He set his glass down and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.

“Not used to seeing you out of your armor,” Finn remarked, trying to keep the banter light. “Almost didn’t recognize you.”

Zanik’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “Armor’s not exactly comfortable for sleeping in,” he said, a trace of amusement in his voice.

Finn nodded, feeling an unexpected warmth at the sight of Zanik’s almost-smile. “Yeah, well, I suppose even smugglers need to relax sometimes,” he said lightly, though his heart was pounding.

There was something disarming about seeing Zanik like this, stripped of his usual defenses. Like he was just another guy, instead of a terrifying monster alien.

Zanik leaned back in his chair, studying Finn. “You’re talkative tonight.”

Finn shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just trying to pass the time,” he said, though the truth was he felt an odd compulsion to keep talking, to bridge the gap between them. “Besides, it’s not like I have many other options for conversation around here.”

Finn took another sip of water, the cool liquid doing little to settle his nerves. The air between him and Zanik felt charged, like a storm waiting to break. He studied the Borraq across from him, noticing the way Zanik’s shoulders slumped slightly, a rare sign of vulnerability.

“So, what’s keeping you up?” Finn asked, trying to sound casual but genuinely curious. “Bad dreams? Or just too much on your mind?”

Zanik’s gaze shifted to the table, his fingers drumming a soft rhythm against the metal surface. For a moment, Finn thought he wouldn’t answer, but then Zanik’s voice cut through the silence.

“Memories,” he said, his tone heavy. “Things I’d rather forget but can’t seem to escape.”

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