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He was right, though I hated to admit it. I’d been a Reaper long enough to recognize when a tactical retreat was the only viable option.

“We need to move now,” I said, turning back toward where I’d left Everly. “She’s not safe alone.”

Khaaz nodded, falling into step beside me, his movements eerily silent compared to my own. We traveled without speaking for several minutes, the implicit truce between us fragile but holding.

Finally, I broke the silence. “What happens after? If we get off-world?”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I don’t know. This connection between us—it wasn’t meant to exist. There’s no precedent.”

“She’s my mate,” I said, the possessive growl impossible to suppress.

“Yes,” he agreed without hesitation. “She is. I make no claim on her.”

But I heard what he didn’t say—that the connection existed regardless. That somehow, through the twisted manipulations of science and fate, the three of us were bound together in ways none of us had chosen.

“One problem at a time,” I muttered, more to myself than to him. “First, we get her to safety.”

On this, at least, we were in perfect agreement.

As we neared the clearing where I’d left Everly, I caught her scent on the breeze—sweet, warm, alive. My pace quickened involuntarily, the primal need to confirm her safety overriding all else.

Khaaz matched my stride, his own nostrils flaring as he caught the same scent. I saw the same protective instinct flash in his eyes, and for the first time, I felt something beyond suspicion toward him.

Recognition.

Understanding.

We would protect her. Together if necessary.

The how and why of what came after could wait.

8 /EVERLY

I couldn’t sleep.My body craved rest, but my mind refused to shut down, cycling between the gnawing anxiety of our situation and the fear of what would happen if I actually closed my eyes. Every time I drifted toward unconsciousness, I’d jerk awake, afraid to slip into another one of those dreams—the ones where I was tangled up with Zehn, my not-supposed-to-be-sexy alien murder cat, his powerful body moving against mine in ways that left me gasping even after I woke. The shelter he’d constructed kept out the elements, but it couldn’t protect me from my own treacherous mind. I paced the small clearing, trying to exhaust myself into dreamless sleep, when something in the wind made me freeze.

Two days ago, I’d been on vacation, trying to recover from burnout at my high-stress job. Now I was hiding in an alien jungle with a seven-foot-tall leopard man who claimed I was his “fate mate.” The universe had a sick sense of humor.

I ran my fingers through my long black hair, grimacing at the tangles. My body felt heavy with fatigue, but the tension in the air was palpable—an electric current that made my skin prickle. Zehn had left hours ago to scout the perimeter, and the silence of his absence was oppressive. I’d grown accustomed to hispresence, his low rumbling voice, even the way his eyes tracked my every movement. I hated that I’d begun to find comfort in it.

“This is insane,” I muttered, continuing my pacing. “You’re losing it, Everly.”

The thin fabric of my clothing clung to my skin in the humid night air. Each step I took across the clearing was measured, careful not to disturb anything that might give away our position. Zehn had been adamant about staying hidden. From what, I wasn’t entirely sure—he’d been frustratingly vague about the specifics, saying only that there were “others” looking for us.

I stopped mid-stride. There was something different about the night sounds—or rather, the lack of them. The constant chorus of alien insects and creatures had suddenly gone quiet. Something in my gut—some primal instinct I didn’t know I possessed—told me to remain perfectly still. I didn’t even breathe.

That’s when I heard it—a faint mechanical whirring overhead, barely audible but distinctly artificial among the organic sounds of the jungle. My eyes darted upward, scanning the small patches of night sky visible through the dense canopy.

They came into view suddenly—sleek, metallic objects gliding through the air with an eerie precision. Drones. At least half a dozen of them, their surfaces gleaming under the blue light of this planet’s larger moon. They moved in formation, scanning patterns sweeping methodically across the landscape.

I remembered Zehn’s instructions if anything like this happened: Don’t move. Don’t run. The shields will protect you.

The shields. Zehn had activated some kind of protective barrier around our temporary camp before he left. He’d pressed something on his gauntlet, and the air had shimmered briefly before returning to normal. “They won’t see you through this,” he’d said, his amber eyes serious. “But if they do, run to the eastern ridge and hide in the black rock formations.”

I stood rigid as the drones hovered closer, their scanning beams cutting through the night in eerie blue lines. One drone descended lower than the others, hovering just above the canopy directly over my position. For a moment, I thought the shield was working—the drone’s scanning beam passed over the area without pausing.

Then something changed. The drone halted its sweeping pattern and focused its beam directly on the spot where I stood. The blue light intensified, becoming almost painful to look at. I squinted against the glare, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The drone was descending, the beam narrowing, penetrating the shield that was supposed to keep me hidden. Whatever technology Zehn had deployed, these things had found a way through it. I took a step back, my survival instinct screaming at me to run, but my body refusing to obey. I was trapped in the light, exposed, vulnerable.

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