Page 74 of New World

“You’re an idiot,” she whispered, her voice thick. “You don’t even want to know all the ways I’m going to make you pay for making me worry.”

“I can’t wait,” Sergi chuckled, rubbing slow circles against her back as she released her legs around his waist and slid down to the ground.

Mei stayed pressed against his body, too overwhelmed by her emotions to face him yet.

“I love you, Sergi,” she softly confessed, finally looking up at him. “You… you are my family.”

She clenched her eyes shut. His arms curled around her, holding her like the brother he had always been.

“I love you too, pandochka. You scared me as well,” he grudgingly admitted in a voice that wasn’t quite steady.

“Hi, Mei. I’m La’Rue,” the woman next to Sergi greeted.

Mei pulled back and gave the woman who was about her age a wavering smile before she raised an eyebrow at Sergi. “Are you robbing the cradle now, old man?”

Sergi released a long groan and ran his hand over his face. “Old man? I’m not that old!” he grumbled while Ash and Julia snorted out a laugh.

Mei winked at La’Rue and looked up at Sergi before glancing at Ash and Julia. A sigh of contentment flowed through her. All they were missing was Josh, and he wasn’t far—in terms of space travel.

They had already done the impossible once. And no matter how many threats Zoak or the Legion hurled at them, they would do it again. Together.

We’ve become living legends! she mused, looking back up when Sergi laughed at something Ash said.

The dim glow of the room’s ambient lighting bathed the cabin in warm, muted golds. The air was thick with the lingering warmth of their bodies, the scent of skin and sweat, of shared whispers and tangled limbs. Dorane lay on his back, one arm curled around Mei, the other draped lazily over his stomach. His mind, however, was far from at rest.

Mei’s fingers trailed absently across his skin, tracing lazy patterns along his abdomen. He loved the way she touched him—not just with heat, but with purpose. As if every brush of her fingertips was a reassurance, a quiet claim. A part of him wanted to lose himself in that feeling, to let go of everything but this moment.

But the night weighed heavy on him.

He was still processing what Mei had told him earlier. Her encounter with Zoak. And the fury that had stoked within. At the risk she had taken. The danger she had walked into. His gut reaction had been to demand why she had done it, but he had swallowed the words. Mei was no reckless fool. She was calculating, tactical. She had baited Zoak for a reason.

That knowledge didn’t lessen the fire in his veins.

Or the jealousy that had crept up like a slow, insidious burn when he saw her reunite with Sergi.

Dorane exhaled sharply, his mind flashing back to earlier, when he had stepped out of the ship and into the cool night air of Kryla, needing space, needing to breathe.

Earlier:

* * *

The night air had cooled from the oppressive heat of the day. The faint scent of dust and distant spice from the market beyond the walls carried on the breeze. The hum of the settlement was softer now, the workers fewer, their murmurs drifting into the desert winds.

Yet, beneath the ordinary sounds of Kryla, Dorane felt something else. A pressure. A presence. Zoak was watching. Somewhere, in the dark, unseen. Waiting.

Dorane clenched his fists. It wasn’t just Zoak that made his stomach tighten—it was the way Mei had melted into another man’s arms, her body unquestioningly at home in Sergi’s embrace. He breathed deeply, trying to understand the conflicting emotions coursing through him as he stood at the top of the loading bay ramp, arms crossed, staring out over the sealed entrance to the landing pad.

He was still angry.

He was still jealous.

And he hated himself for both.

He couldn’t forget the way Mei’s face lit up at the sight of Sergi. The way she launched herself into the other man’s arms without hesitation. The way she clung to the stranger with blue eyes, her relief so raw, so unguarded, that it sent something dark curling through Dorane’s chest.

It was jealousy, yes. But more than that—it was the unfamiliar, suffocating fear that he was too late. His jaw ached from clenching it too hard. His fingers curled into fists at his sides before he forced them to relax. A slow breath. In. Out. But it didn’t stop the tightness in his chest. The fear that whatever bond they had formed wasn’t strong enough to compete with what she had lost.

“I love her.” The words had felt so easy to say in the quiet of their cabin. But now, in the open air, surrounded by everyone else who already had a place in her heart, he wondered if they were enough.

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