Page 35 of Third

Tor’Vek’s fist smashed into the control panel, asharp crack of metal giving way under the blow. Sparks erupted from the console, ajolt of static electricity shooting up his arm as the ship shuddered in protest. Asnarl tore from his throat, low and vicious. The rage he’d barely held back for hours surged dangerously close to the surface, and for a moment, she thought he might rip the entire console apart with his bare hands.

“Stabilizers offline,” the ship’s AI droned, maddeningly calm as another series of red lights flared tolife.

Anya fought the impulse to fling herself at Tor’Vek, her muscles straining against the restraints as desperate need and fear waged war inside her. The craving tore through her, sharp and urgent, almost impossible to resist. Her body screamed to fling herself at him, to bury herself in his heat and strength, but the belts across her chest and waist pinned her firmly in place.

“Tor’Vek!” she gasped. “Can you—?”

“Iknow,” he barked, his hands flying over the remaining operational controls. His fingers moved with brutal precision, fighting the ship’s erratic spins.

The deck pitched again, the restraints digging deeper into her body, bruising her ribs and shoulders with every violent jolt. Tor’Vek yanked at his own straps, one arm snapping free just in time to slam a stabilizer lever back into position.

“Brace,” he ordered, his voice a hard command.

There was no time to argue. No time to think. The ship jerked erratically as he fought for a controlled landing, guiding the crippled vessel toward a clearing below.

They hit the deck with bone-jarring force, the impact reverberating through every part of the ship. The emergency dampeners kicked in at the last second, absorbing most of the shock, but not enough to prevent the vicious blow that whipped Anya against her harness.

Sparks rained from damaged panels, and the smell of burnt wiring filled the air. Systems groaned under the strain, the deck vibrating beneath their feet as warning lights flashed erratically across the console, the sharp stench of burnt metal heavy in the air. But the core engines held. Life support remained intact. The ship was battered, scorched, and leaking in places—but it was still whole. Damaged, but repairable.

Anya gasped, the breath knocked from her lungs. But she was alive. Shielded by Tor’Vek’s quick actions, by the ship’s final desperate efforts to protect its passengers.

His body moved in the seat beside her, massive and trembling with exertion. The bond between them vibrated with frantic, pulsing energy.

For a moment, neither of them moved, locked in their seats. The world tilted back and forth around them, the ship settling deeper into the earth with creaks of protesting metal.

Then, slowly, Tor’Vek disengaged his remaining restraint with a sharp jerk. His hand reached across to Anya, fingers working the release mechanism on her harness with brisk, competent efficiency.

“You are intact?” he demanded, his voice rough with strain.

“Y-yeah,” she managed, her voice shaking. “Thanks toyou.”

He said nothing, but his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He rose to his feet in a smooth, predatory motion and offered hishand.

She took it without hesitation, her fingers curling around his. His grip was firm, steadying her as he pulled her from the chair.

Outside, something exploded far off in the distance, sending a fresh vibration through the deck beneath them. Tor’Vek’s head snapped up, his expression darkening.

“We mustmove.”

Anya nodded, adrenaline sparking through her veins. Whatever had forced them down wasn’t finished with themyet.

Tor’Vek hesitated, scanning the cracked control panel. His fingers moved swiftly, activating what systems still responded. “Ship, atmospheric analysis.”

“Processing,” the AI replied. Amoment later, it added, “Breathable. Slightly elevated particulate matter from crash debris. No toxins detected.”

Tor’Vek gave a short nod and turned back to Anya. “We can breathe theair.”

Without releasing her hand, he led her toward the hatch. Despite the ship’s battered state, the core systems whirred to life at his command, the door sliding open with a heavy hiss. Damaged but salvageable.

Afaint tremor vibrated through the scorched floor beneath their feet, and somewhere beyond the broken hull, steam hissed into theair.

The hatch groaned as it lowered, aplume of acrid smoke curling into the cockpit.

Before stepping out, Tor’Vek paused and crossed to a storage compartment near the hatch. With swift efficiency, he retrieved a lightweight field jacket—the smallest he could find—and a pair of durable leggings designed for flexible movement, and boots. Without a word, he handed them toAnya.

“Put these on,” he said, his voice rough. “You will need protection against the elements.”

Anya yanked the field jacket over Tor’Vek’s shirt and shoved into the leggings, her fingers fumbling in haste. The boots followed, abit too large, but serviceable. She coughed against the pungent smoke, pulling the jacket’s collar up over her mouth and nose, blinking against the sting in her eyes. The outside world looked even worse up close—an endless stretch of jagged, blackened earth, churned and scarred as if by countless impacts.

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