Page 60 of New World

Dorane closed his eyes briefly, imagining a younger Mei—small, fierce, pushing herself beyond her limits just to prove she wouldn’t break. He could see it now, the steel in her spine, the fire in her eyes.

Her voice softened, and something in it made his throat tighten.

“My mother was the only light I had.” Mei’s fingers resumed their slow caresses against his chest. “She couldn’t protect me outright, but she found other ways. She taught me… subtlety. She made sure I had books, music. She would sneak sweets into my room at night when my father wasn’t looking.” Mei let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh. “She used to tell me stories about the stars, about places beyond our reach. Places where not even my father could touch me. She wanted me to believe there was something more. She also taught me that winning a fight was not always about defeating your enemy physically. You could do it mentally and they might not even know, not right then.”

Dorane swallowed hard, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I think my mother would have liked yours.”

Mei tilted her head up, curiosity flickering in her dark eyes. His heart clenched as he realized something. For the first time since he was a child, the memory of his parents didn’t hurt. Instead, it warmed him, like an ember glowing in the dark.

“My parents would have loved your mother.” He exhaled slowly, pressing a kiss to the top of Mei’s head. “They probably would have killed your father, though. They detested men like him.”

Mei let out a quiet chuckle. “They wouldn’t have been alone.”

Dorane smiled, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against her back. His smile faded, replaced by haunting memories, and his fingers stilled. The past clawed at him, the ghosts of his mother’s voice, his father’s laughter, the screams?—

He had never shared his past. Not to anyone. But he wanted to… with Mei.

“I was nine when my parents and younger brother and sister were murdered by the Legion—by Coleridge Landais,” he began, his voice low.

Mei shifted beside him, sliding up until she could look into his eyes. She didn’t speak, just watched him, waiting. He covered her hand where it rested against his chest, grounding himself.

“It happened a long time ago,” he murmured before he began speaking in a low, even tone.

The minutes ticked by as he recounted very horror in brutal detail. Once he’d conveyed the whole memory, silence stretched between them, heavy and unbreakable. Finally, he rolled away, sitting up at the edge of the bed, dragging a hand through his hair. Mei sat up behind him, her warm fingers ghosting down his spine. The gentle touch nearly unraveled him.

He let out a ragged breath before he stood and walked toward the cleansing unit. He could feel Mei’s eyes on him. He didn’t know why he had told her all of that. No one—not Asta, not Jammer, not a single soul—knew where he had come from. To the galaxy, Dorane LeGaugh had simply appeared.

He stepped into the cleansing unit, pressing the controls as warm water cascaded over his skin. He exhaled, letting the steam wash away the ghosts of his past. Bowing his head, he felt his body shake as silent tears coursed down his face, washing away the pain he had kept locked away for so long. He lifted his hand, brushing it across his cheek when he sensed Mei.

He released a shuddering breath and turned as she stepped in behind him, her dark eyes locking onto his. Dorane’s breath stalled. He saw everything in her gaze—understanding, acceptance, fire… love. She didn’t pity him. She simply saw him.

She ran her fingers through the damp strands of his hair before trailing them down his jaw, his neck, his chest. Her touch was soft but certain.

And Dorane knew.

She had chased away the shadows in his heart and replaced them with light.

He cupped her face, his thumb tracing her cheek. She leaned into him, her breath warm against his skin.

He kissed her.

Slow, deep, reverent.

For the first time in decades, the memory of his family didn’t feel like a blade in his chest. The pain was still there, but it was different—softer, like a scar instead of an open wound.

15

Torrian Underground Rebel Base

* * *

The underground base was alive with movement. Even this deep beneath the scorched surface of Torrian, the air vibrated with the urgency of war. Josh Manson strode through the wide corridors, his boots striking against the compacted stone floor as he and Cassa de Rola made their way toward the war room.

The cavernous tunnels, carved from the red stone of the planet’s core, were reinforced with metal support beams and thick blast doors designed to withstand both orbital bombardments and surface attacks. Torches and glowing bioluminescent crystals embedded in the walls cast flickering light across engineers, technicians, and fighters hurrying through the network of connected bases.

This was the largest base—the one the rebellion had worked tirelessly to complete. The strategic heart of the movement. Supplies from the frozen moon base were still being transported through the narrow underground tunnels, moving from storage chambers to armories, medical bays, and ship hangars hidden beneath the surface.

Josh’s sharp blue eyes flicked over the fighters posted along the halls—Torrians, Tesla Terrans, five humans, and a host of other alien species united under one cause. Rebel fighters nodded in respect as he passed. Josh acknowledged them with a bow of his head, but his focus was on the meeting ahead.

---