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“This feels wrong,” Zar’Ryn muttered, more to himself than Elara.

Her soft gasp drew his gaze. She stood beside him, her slender frame illuminated by the console’s light, her arms crossed tightly as though to shield herself from his rising unease. The faint flicker of their bond pulsed through him, carrying her apprehension like a second heartbeat.

It also carried an unnerving desire. Lingering. Pressing. Insisting.

He could tell she forced herself to consider the message, though it came with a serious struggle to dampen the want that continuously pulsed between the two of them. “What does he mean by ‘answers’?” she asked. Her voice held a thread of hope she couldn’t quite mask, though he felt the weight of her fear beneathit.

“We will find out soon enough,” he replied, his tone clipped. He turned to the ship’s controls, inputting the coordinates. He refused to let her see how much the message concernedhim.

Worse, the intensity of the bond increased, her barely suppressed desire cutting through his focus like a blade. How could she stand so near and not sense how she affected him? Every slight movement, every hitch in her breath, amplified the tension betweenthem.

Zar’Ryn clenched his fists tighter as her scent—amaddening mixture of something uniquelyher—reached him. It was subtle, but it burrowed into his thoughts like a persistentache.

Her lips moved, forming words he barely registered, her voice a melody that seemed designed to torment him. He forced himself to focus on the words, not the soft curve of her mouth or the faint blush of her cheeks. She didn’t even realize, did she? Her very existence unraveled the threads of his discipline, one glance, one moment at atime.

When she shifted closer, her hand brushing his arm lightly as she gestured toward the view outside, the contact ignited a surge of heat so penetrating he almost pulled away. Almost. But he couldn’t afford to appear weak, not now. Instead, he locked his body in place, forcing his breathing to remain steady.

It didn’t help. The bond magnified everything—her curiosity, her slight nervousness, and the flicker of awareness she tried to suppress. Did she feel it too? The way their connection burned like a stripped wire ready tosnap?

Zar’Ryn cursed himself silently. He was a warrior, trained to control his mind and body with precision. Yet here he stood, undone by the presence of one human woman. The very idea infuriated him. Worse, it threatened to undohim.

He forced his gaze to the viewport, willing his thoughts back to the mission, back to the message from Jo’Nay. But even as he attempted to focus, his awareness of Elara lingered, aconstant, maddening distraction.

The navigation to the nebula proved as treacherous as Jo’Nay’s warning had suggested. Zar’Ryn guided the ship with the precision of a seasoned warrior, his movements economical yet tense. The swirling gases danced like spectral flames outside the viewport, their iridescent hues concealing jagged asteroid fields that threatened to tear through the ship’s hull. Each decision was split-second, each maneuver demanding complete focus.

But even as he pushed the ship forward, he couldn’t silence the storm within. Elara’s emotions bled into him through their bond, atangled mix of awe, unease, and something sharper—fear for him? And always that undercurrent of desperate desire. The realization unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

“You’re angry,” she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet vibration of the controls.

“I am focused,” he corrected, refusing to meet hergaze.

“Focused on not feeling anything?” she pressed, her tone tinged with frustration. “It doesn’t work, Zar’Ryn. Not anymore.Not with this.” She raised her wrist, the faint glow of the bracelet casting shifting shadows against herskin.

He exhaled sharply, gripping the controls tighter. “I do not have the luxury of feelings, Elara. Ineed every ounce of focus.”

Her silence turned heavy, but the bond pulsed with her unspoken thoughts. He could feel her probing, searching for cracks in his resolve. For once, he was grateful the ship’s proximity alarms demanded his full attention.

The research station emerged from the nebula like a phantom, its sleek structure luminous against the swirling backdrop. Energy barriers shielded the dock, shimmering faintly, suggesting layers of defense that spoke of either paranoia or preparation. Zar’Ryn couldn’t decide which.

“Impressive,” Elara murmured, her voice tinged with reluctant admiration. Despite her unease, her curiosity shone through. He couldn’t decide if that was a strength or a liability.

The docking sequence completed with a smooth hiss of the airlock. He rose from his seat, scanning the corridor beyond the viewport.

“Stay close,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

They stepped into the station, the atmosphere immediately cooler and more sterile than the ship. The walls gleamed with an almost unnatural precision, the sterile lighting casting harsh reflections that seemed to strip the warmth from the space. The bay felt hollow, empty, as if waiting to be filled with purpose.

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the corridor, sharp and deliberate. Zar’Ryn stiffened, his hand twitching toward his blade, but he forced himself to stay still as a figure emerged from the shadows.

Tor’Vek. His unit’s Third.

The scientist cum medic’s gaze swept over them, assessing and calculating. He stood taller than Zar’Ryn remembered, his broad frame encased in a high-collared uniform that seemed to repel even the dust in the air. His Final Flight black eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence, and his expression, while calm, carried a subtle wariness.

“Zar’Ryn,” Tor’Vek said, his voice even but not unkind. “It has been a long time.”

“It is good to see you, brother,” Zar’Ryn replied.

Before they had the opportunity to say more, asoft cry broke the moment.

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