Page 35 of Zayrik

Zep hissed from the console, all fangy disapproval.

I almost laughed.

Almost.

12

Nyla

THE GALLEY WAS DIM, the overhead light flickering just enough to set my nerves on edge. Each flash felt like a warning, reminding me of every shadowy corner I’d ever hidden in.

I grabbed a ration pack, tore it open with more force than necessary, and started picking at it. More for something to do than because I was hungry. The processed protein tasted like dust in my mouth, but it was better than dealing with the silence.

Zayrik leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, all coiled strength and careful observation. Watching me. Always watching me, like he could see straight through every wall I’d built.

I ignored him.

Mostly.

It wasn’t easy. Everything about him demanded attention, from the way he filled the doorframe to the intensity in his eyes.

“You’re twitchy,” he said, casual in a way that wasn’t casual at all.

I snorted, ignoring the way my pulse jumped at his voice. “You always this observant?”

He smirked, but there was something else behind it. Something that made my skin prickle with awareness. “When it’s interesting.”

I rolled my eyes and shoved a piece of dried protein in my mouth just to shut myself up. When he continued to watch me, I blurted. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking,” he muttered, and something in his tone made me still.

I frowned. “About?”

His lips quirked, but it wasn’t a smirk this time. It was something sadder, something that made me ache in ways I didn’t want to examine. “You trust your AI. And that little menace on your shoulder.”

I glanced at Zep, curled warm against my collarbone. He made a soft sound, shifted slightly, but didn’t wake. His presence grounded me. Reminding me of all the nights we’d spent together, just us against the galaxy.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. “Because they’ve never given me a reason not to.”

The silence afterward was thick, burdened by unspoken things. The flickering light cast shadows across Zayrik’s face, highlighting the sharp angles of his features, the way his eyes had gone distant.

He stared at the floor like it held answers to questions I didn’t know he was asking. When he spoke, his voice was subdued and hushed, barely carrying across the space between us. “I understand.”

I stilled at the raw honesty in those two words. This wasn’t the confident, impossible Zayrik I’d come to expect. This was something else. Something stripped bare of pretense.

I set the ration pack down, the rustle of the wrapper too loud in the quiet space. Watched him. His shoulders were tense, drawn up like he was bracing for a blow. His jaw worked, muscles jumping beneath his skin. Like he was holding something back, something that wanted to break free.

I hesitated, knowing I should let it go, not press things. But I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “What do you mean?”

He let out a resigned sigh. Ran a hand through his hair, the gesture almost vulnerable in its unconsciousness.

Then let it slip.

“My father was a crook.”

I blinked, the words hitting me like a physical force. That... wasn’t what I was expecting. Not from him. Not from a Protectorate warrior who wore honor like armor.

Zayrik’s jaw was tight, his voice flat in a way that spoke of old pain. “Grew up watching him lie. Gamble. Steal. Take advantage of people. Get close enough to trouble to feel important, then run when it caught up.”

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