Page 12 of Stolen By the Wraiths
The display shifted to architectural schematics. A fortress.
"We need more intelligence before we move," Jessa said, her fury giving way to practicality. "Location, security protocols, personnel count. We can't go in blind."
"Which brings us to our next problem," Serak said. The display changed to show an elegant, jeweled structure orbiting a gas giant. "Kairos Station. An upscale resort where Vain's corporate backers conduct business."
"It's a challenge," Malrik said. "Their screening protocols are legendary. Bio-signature scanners, pheromonal sniffers, and DNA verification—they scan for everything."
"No fake ID is getting through that net," I added, already running the angles. "A direct assault is suicide. A stealth infiltration... what's our cover?"
"That's the issue," Serak said, his pale eyes finding mine. "Any standard cover will be flagged. We need one that actively discourages investigation." He paused. "We need you and Ressh to pose as a newly bonded Tsekai pair."
The silence in the room was absolute.
"No," I said, the word flat and final. "Absolutely not. It's a trap. You're asking me to walk into a cage and hand them the key."
Ressh flinched, a barely perceptible tightening of his jaw. "Serak," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. "You are asking me to perform a mockery of the most sacred rite my people have. To use it as a tool. It is an obscenity."
"You knew this was a possibility when we first discussed recruiting Alix, when we saw her potential to match with you. It is our only option," Serak countered, his calm completely different from the raw emotion in the room. "Violating a Tsekai bonding seal is diplomatic suicide. Station officials will give you a wide berth. Vain's people won't dare interfere."
"And when their scanners detect that we're not really bonded?" I shot back.
"That's the loophole," Deyric interjected. "Newly bonded pairs are in biological flux. The chemical signatures are still settling. The neural pathways are still forming. Their scanners would expect inconsistencies."
"It's a theory," Malrik muttered. "A theory that gets them dissected if it's wrong."
"It's more complicated than that," Ressh said, his gaze distant. "There are cultural expectations. Behavioral markers. Protective protocols, territorial displays. Anyone familiar with Tsekai customs would spot a fake."
"Meaning we'd have to be convincing," I said, a slow, gnawing dread settling in my stomach.
"Utterly," Serak confirmed.
"Is it really acting?" Jessa asked gently. "You two have already formed a connection. Anyone can see it. The way you move around each other, the way he positions himself to protect you." She looked at me. "You're halfway there already."
Her words hit, and my heart kicked painfully. My jaw tightened. She was right—I’d been running all my life, but somehow I’d already made it halfway to the thing I feared most.
"That's different," I protested, but my voice lacked conviction.
"Is it?" Ressh asked quietly.
I met his gaze and the memory of him chasing away my nightmares, of his promise to never let me be alone, pulsed between us.
Thoryn spoke, his deep voice holding the weight of hard experience. "The risks are considerable. If the deception fails, you will face more than simple imprisonment. The Tsekai consider bond violations a form of identity theft."
"And if we don't try?" I asked, my gaze sweeping over the crew, then landing back on the images of the broken Tsekai on the screen. I saw Ressh's face reflected in the glass, his pain a raw, open wound.
My survival had always depended on running. But running from this meant leaving those people to their fate. It meant leavinghimwithout justice. It meant choosing the old Alix.
"I need to—” I stopped, then tried again. "What would this actually require?"
"Close physical proximity," Serak said. "Shared quarters. Protective behavior that appears instinctive. The bond would be recent enough that some awkwardness would be expected."
"How recent?" Ressh asked.
"A week at most," Deyric supplied. "New bonds are volatile. You'd be expected to be emotionally intense, physically possessive, occasionally overwhelmed by the connection."
"So we act like hormonal teenagers with attachment issues," I said dryly. "What if I freeze up? What if I can't sell it when it matters?"
"The appearance of intimacy can be achieved without crossing lines you don't want to cross," Ressh said, his voice low and directed at me. "We would set the boundaries. Together."
