Page 28 of Third

“No,” she finally said. “We go to Earth. We find Maya.”

His posture shifted, the tension tightening across his shoulders. “If we kill him, your sister is no longer in danger.”

“And if he has her already? If he moves her before we get there?” Her voice cracked. “If he uses her and we’re too late?”

“The only way to be too late is to waste time.”

Anya rose to her feet, fists clenched. “She’s not bait!”

“No,” he agreed. “She’s a variable. Adangerous one, if we allow her to remain in his reach.”

“So which is it?” she demanded. “Earth or Selyr?”

He took a moment to consider and she could tell that everything in him urged they go after Selyr. Then he looked at her. “Earth,” he conceded.

She turned away from him, pulse hammering in relief. As their disagreement had grown, so had the pulse of the bracelet—flaring red. She needed distance to think, to breathe, to escape the overwhelming heat of his logic and fury pressing in from every angle. But she’d barely taken two steps when the bond flared violently, his need for proximity hitting her like a shove between the shoulder blades.

He grabbed her again, his voice low and rough. “Do not walk away from me when the bond is unstable.”

Her chin lifted, eyes flashing. “I can’t stand still just to keep you calm.”

“Then do not make me choose between calm… and keeping you alive.” His voice dropped. “We are both injured. We will not continue this while impaired. You will come to the medbay. Now.”

She stared at him, chest heaving. Then she ripped her arm away and said coldly, “Fine. Let’s get checked out.”

The bond between them pulsed with dissonance—hot, flaring, unsettled, like it refused to allow them separation even for breath.

He took her arm again. Not painfully, but with the force of flaring rage barely restrained. His grip was tight, his breathing sharp. The bond pulsed hot between them, aggressive in its demand. His touch wasn’t about control. It was about containment—of the fury that surged every time she stepped too faraway.

Anya remained silent. She could feel the heat of him behind her, the way his fingers curled tighter like he needed her tethered as much as she needed space. Her instinct screamed to fight—her sister was still out there, her world still collapsing—but logic told her what Tor’Vek already knew: neither of them could win this argument bleeding and bruised.

She allowed herself to be turned, his hand never leaving her. Her thoughts raced with conflict. Every cell in her body urged her to keep fighting, to tear herself free and demand more time, more answers—but something inside her knew she wouldn’t win that way. Not now. Not likethis.

His rage bubbled too close to the surface, and the bond between them buzzed with volatile tension. So she let him guide her. Not because she agreed. But because she could feel the edge he was walking—and if she pulled too hard, they might both goover.

The corridors of the ship were dim and sterile as he led her down the narrow companionway. The hum of power coursed beneath the floor, steady but distant, like it belonged to a world still catching up with them. Every step pressed them closer—physically, mentally—the bond never lettingup.

When they reached the medbay, the doors hissed open. White light spilled out, too bright after the chaos. Tor’Vek guided her inside, releasing her only once the scanner lowered over the table.

And then, finally, he steppedback.

Just enough to let the machine begin itswork.

Just enough to feel the ache of distance begin toburn.

She lay back, tense and raw, as the auto-scanner slid down over her body. Soft blue light shimmered over her skin, casting soft halos over every bruise, every scrape. The machine clicked and hummed, whirring as it compiled the results, and she felt warmth spreading across her chest and down her spine as the regeneration sequence began—cellular repair targeting damaged tissue, bruised muscle, smoke-scarred lungs.

Her breathing eased incrementally. The ache in her ribs dulled to a throb. Her lungs expanded without burning, her body slowly remembering what calm felt like. But her attention never shifted from Tor’Vek. Not for a second. The scanner was healing her body, yes—but it was him she watched. The unreadable lines of his posture. The way he stared too long at the screen. The quiet tension gathering in the air around him like a storm about to break.

He stood without moving, arms crossed, his body a fortress. But something shifted in his stance. Not a flinch. Not even a breath. Just the smallest edge of stillness, too precise to be casual.

The readout finished with a finaltone.

He stared atit.

Didn’tmove.

Didn’t speak.

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