Page 86 of Third

“Why did you take her?” she persisted. “What’s different abouther?”

He paused a beat. Then, “She is—aredundant variable. Genetically similar, so the outcome will also be similar. Perhaps slightly less compliant, but—”

“That’s not why she’s special,” Anya snapped. “Nor does it prove you have her. Try again because if you had her, you’d know why she’s special.”

His eyes widened in alarm. “She... will be useful. In theory,” he said, floundering. “Your comparable genetics could offer parallel baselines for diagnostic trials—hypothetically.”

“You don’t know,” Anya breathed. “You don’t have her.”

“I do,” he said quickly, but his eyes darted, just once, toward the edge of theroom.

Too quickly.

Her blaster didn’t waver. “Then tell me what makes her different.”

Selyr paused.

Nothing.

Anya fired.

The shot struck center mass. His body snapped backward, slammed into the wall with a hiss of ruptured metal and scorched cloth. He slid to the floor and did not move again. No final words. No twitch. No breath. Selyr was dead—completely, absolutely,finallydead.

She didn’t look away. “He doesn’t know that Maya is my twin or it would have been the first thing he said.” She flung herself into Tor’Vek’s arms, trembling. “He doesn’t have her. Ican die knowing she’s safe.”

Tor’Vek caught her, his arms iron around her frame. For a breath, he did not letgo.

Anya buried her face against his chest, shaking. The bond surged between them—warm, urgent, real. Not pain. Not rage. Something deeper. Her fingers clutched the front of hissuit.

“Ilove you,” she whispered, voice cracking.

His voice was low, hoarse. “And I love you. Iwould rather die beside you than live withoutyou.”

She looked up. Their faces were too close. Her lips parted.

Need flickered through the bond, fierce and undeniable. Not the craving from before—something quieter, steadier. Still dangerous. Still potent enough to undo her completely if she let it. And she wanted to letit.

His hand slid up her spine. Her body melted intohim.

Behind them, the wall trembled—an automated warning system buzzing faintly beneath the roar of distant destruction.

“We need to move,” he said, but it came out rough. Reluctant.

For just one more heartbeat, she stayed in his arms. Then she nodded, breath catching as she stepped back. The moment between them still shimmered through the bond, warm and anchoring, even as she tightened her grip on the blaster. Then she turned, resolute.

Tor’Vek crouched beside Selyr’s body and stripped an identification disc from his uniform, slipping it into a compartment on his belt. He said nothing, but Anya saw the tension in his jaw. They ran—together, fast, hearts pounding asone.

The path to Selyr’s ship was short and unguarded, acruel final trap that never had the chance to spring. Now, at the threshold, he retrieved Selyr’s ID disc and held it to the panel beside the hangar doors.

A hiss. Aflash of green.

The doors slid open without resistance. Anya couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened to them without that ID disc. Would they have been instantly disintegrated? Had that been Selyr’s ultimateplan?

Inside, the ship’s core systems were dim, running on standby. Tor’Vek pulled his rij from his wrist and pressed it against the control panel.

Lights flared. Sirens chirped, then died. Panels blinked on and off in a pulse. The ship shuddered, as if waking under protest.

The synthetic voice of his AI buzzed from the overhead speaker. “Foreign AI interface detected. Initiating override.”

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