Page 27 of Third

She could still see it—flames racing up the walls, that last shriek of metal before the hangar collapsed in on itself like a dying star. Her chest hurt, ribs bruised, lungs raw from smoke and terror.

The scent of scorched metal still clung to her skin, and the ship’s recycled air felt too thin, too artificial. But none of that explained the real reason she couldn’t seem to inhale properly—the strain pressing in from the bond, from the man across the room whose fury hadn’t cooled since they escaped.

Tor’Vek.

He hadn’t sat still since they launched. He prowled from console to console, not pacing—but moving like a predator stuck in too small a cage. At the ship’s long-range comms array, he paused only long enough to issue commands, fingers cutting through the interface with clipped, surgical efficiency. His bracelet still pulsed faintly at his wrist. Not red, not yet, but a deep, unstable gold that shimmered like a warning. It wasn’t indecision. It was suppression—barely holding back the fire beneath.

She could feel it through thebond.

That tension.

Thatheat.

He was keeping it leashed. Just. Every few seconds, he reached back—without looking—and touched her. Ahand against her ankle. Beneath her shirt to her bare shoulder. The back of her neck. It was unconscious. Instinctual. Like he was making sure she was real. Or maybe, making sure he stillwas.

The screen flickered, then steadied.

“Alpha Legion secure channel established,” the ship announced.

Tor’Vek didn’t hesitate. His voice became a weapon.

“This is Third of Alpha Legion. Experimental facility has been neutralized. Selyr is confirmed active. Request immediate extraction protocol for Earth-based human: female, designation Maya...” He spared Anya a brief glance. “You humans use two names,yes?”

“Yes. Anderson.”

“Designation Maya Anderson. She may be under Selyr’s influence. Intercept with caution. Coordinates to follow.”

He turned to her, jaw locked. “Give me her location.”

Anya sat up straighter, fighting through the fog in her head. “Berkeley. California. United States of America. She lives off-campus with three roommates. She usually walks to class—rain sends her to the bus stop on the corner near the café. She studies computer science and always has her headphones in, half-lost in whatever coding world she’s building. If anyone tries to stop her on the street, she probably wouldn’t even hear them. And... And she’s my twin, so she’ll look exactly like me.”

He nodded once and transmitted the information in Vettian code, voice crisp, efficient. No emotion. No hesitation. But when Anya mentioned they were twins—”she’ll look exactly like me”—something in his eyes shifted. Just slightly. As if she’d said something utterly confusing.

Of course. That would explain why Selyr would see Maya as a viable substitute.

The moment the message was confirmed and encrypted, he shut down the comm link and turned back toher.

As the screen dimmed, his hand returned to her ankle. Not gently, but firmer this time, as if the act of letting go, even for a few seconds, had cost him something he wasn’t willing to name. Or repeat.

Anya didn’t pull away. “Thank you for putting out that distress signal forMaya.”

He slid his hand upward along her leg. His touch didn’t say you’re welcome—not even close.

It saidmine.

Her brows drew together, and she asked quietly, “Do you really think she could be under Selyr’s influence?”

He didn’t answer right away. His thumb moved in a slow, deliberate stroke over her skin, the motion more about keeping himself under control than comfortingher.

“It is possible,” he said at last. “He would use anything to reach us. Avoice we trust. Aface we love. If he has taken her, altered her, returned her, it will not be as leverage. It will be as a weapon.”

“So what now?”

Tor’Vek’s gaze slid to her, then back to the console. “Now we find Selyr. And we end him.”

She swallowed hard, the air too tight in her lungs. Her thoughts spiraled—what if he was right? What if killing Selyr would end it all? But how could she gamble Maya’s life on a theory? If Selyr had her, if he was experimenting again, there might not be a “later” to fixthis.

The pressure from the bond swelled against her ribs, tense and conflicting, echoing every pulse of the storm building in him. She needed a plan. She needed control. And more than anything, she needed to believe they still had a choice—one that didn’t require sacrificing her sister.

---