Page 54 of Third

Hope.

ANYA CROUCHEDbeside the half-scorched supply crate as she worked through twisted metal and dust. Her pulse hammered in her throat, matching the erratic surges of heat and craving pulsing from the bracelet locked around her wrist.

“Found ration cubes,” she said, forcing her voice steady. “Not many, but they’ll keep us moving.”

Tor’Vek took them silently, but his hand swept against hers—adeliberate, necessary touch—and for an instant, the crushing pressure inside her chest eased. His attention was fixed on the schematic projected from his rij. It hovered in the air above his forearm, glowing pale blue. The glow stuttered in and out of focus as if struggling against the chaos building insidehim.

He pointed to a blinking node. Aknot tightened in Anya’s stomach. Seven kilometers through hostile territory. Then a maze of darkness and uncertainty. For a heartbeat, the sheer scale of what lay ahead threatened to swamp her—acold wave of fear breaking over the bond. She clamped it down, swallowing it hard, and focused on the steady pulse of contact with Tor’Vek.

“The access panel Selyr indicated is seven kilometers northwest of this location.” He pointed. “Once we reach it, we will enter the subterranean sector. The final destination lies approximately 1.3 kilometers east, through these unmapped corridors.”

She tucked more rations into a sturdy pack she’d scavenged, her hands pressed against his wrist again, purposefully. Without the contact, aclawing, aching need flared inside her chest, making it hard to think, hard to breathe. “What are the odds we can make it without more surprises?”

He didn’t answer immediately. He moved to the ruined shelf near the far wall, retrieving a glow strip and testing it with a twist. It lit faintly, casting their strained faces in an unsteady light. “Unmapped means undocumented threats. The path may include structural failure zones, automated defenses, or living organisms unrecorded by baselogs.”

“Great. So... best-case scenario, we get lost. Worst-case, we get eaten.”

The words came out brittle, but she pushed through it, jamming a few wire spools and a battered multi-tool into the bag. Her shoulder bumped his arm—intentionally, selfishly—because without it, the craving clawed higher, hot and greedy, scraping along her nerves.

“How long will ittake?”

“Several solar units to reach the access panel. Longer if resistance occurs or the terrain impedes us.” He reached into another storage locker and removed a handful of small, round balls, stuffing them into his vest pocket. “From there, another solar unit through the underground maze—assuming we find apath.”

He shifted, touching his shoulder deliberately against hers in turn, and she saw it—the brief flicker of relief in the rigid set of his mouth, the slight loosening of his fists. The bond throbbed, hungry but momentarily sated by touch.

Tor’Vek pulled a sheathed sword from the weapons locker—the blade straight and gleaming despite the battered scabbard. He strapped it to his back with practiced ease, then reached into a side compartment and withdrew a compact solar gun. It emitted a faint, rising hum as he powered it up, athin line of blue light pulsing along the length of the barrel before it steadied. Satisfied, he holstered it at his hip. Every movement efficient. Controlled. But she could see the strain in the tension ripping at hisbody.

He paused and glanced at her—no, studied her, as if checking to make sure she was still there. “You will stay behind me. If an attack occurs, you will not attempt to engage.”

“Iget it, okay? You’re the walking weapon. I’m the... irrational emotional human liability.”

He tilted his head, the briefest flicker of something like confusion crossing his face. “You are correct about the first part. But incorrect about the second.”

A raw, aching warmth flared low in her chest—apulse that had nothing to do with the bracelet.

Anya turned away quickly, double-checking the contents of the pack. Med disc. Glow strips. Sufficient water for twenty-four hours. Or solar units. Ration cubes. Not enough. Not nearly enough. Her breath caught in her throat, and she stole another touch—her knuckles grazing hisarm.

Instant relief.

The bond’s craving ebbed just enough for her to focus.

“What about tools for the panel? Iassume it’s locked. Sealed from the inside? Or accessible from the outside?”

Tor’Vek crossed to a secondary bin, retrieved a plasma cutter, and handed it to her. His fingers connected with hers during the exchange, deliberately slow, and the desperate tension coiled inside her chest eased again.

“If power is still active at the access point, this will work. If not, we will find another solution.”

“Likewhat?”

“Destruction.”

He turned back to the ruined storage lockers and dug through a hidden compartment, retrieving a compact demolition device—aflat black disk barely larger than his palm, covered with faintly glowing runes. It vibrated weakly in his grip, emitting a low hum that seemed to pulse in time with the bracelet on his wrist, promising power and devastation in equal measure. He tucked it into his belt with the same quiet precision.

“Resonance charge. If necessary, it will obliterate the access panel and anything blocking ourpath.”

She arched a brow, the brief spark of normalcy reassuring her. “Vague but reassuring.”

He paused by the exit, his gaze sharp and unfaltering—but the muscle in his jaw ticked. She knew the bond was clawing at him,too.

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