Page 36 of Zayrik

The words echoed in the dim galley, bouncing off metal walls that suddenly felt too close. Each confession like another crack in the perfect image I’d built of him.

He shook his head, disgust threading through his tone. “And he called that survival.”

Something cold settled in my chest. Not fear this time, but recognition. The kind that made me want to look away, to leave before I saw too much of myself reflected back.

He let out a humorless chuckle, the sound sharp enough to cut. “Guess I never got that gene.”

I swallowed past the knot in my throat. “Zayrik—”

He pushed off the wall, the movement abrupt, almost violent. “Forget it.”

I should’ve let it go, let him retreat behind his walls the way I always retreated behind mine. But I didn’t. Because for the first time since I’d met him, I realized something that shook me to my core. He understood. Not just the constant looking over your shoulder.

But the part where trusting the wrong person could break you. Where family could be the first to betray you.

The part where sometimes the scars that cut deepest were the ones no one could see.

And for the first time, I didn’t know if I wanted to run from that understanding. From him.

We didn’t talk about it.

Not for the next hour. Not for the next two.

But it sat with us like a living thing. His eyes still followed me when I moved. I still caught myself watching him when he wasn’t looking. A charged silence filled every room we shared.

The silence held something.

Not just a physical tension. But a connection I couldn’t pretend didn’t exist anymore.

I should’ve gone to bed.

Should’ve hidden in my quarters until this raw, exposed feeling passed.

I Didn’t.

Ended up in the cargo hold instead. Pacing between crates and containers, my footsteps echoing in the space. Each step matching the rhythm of thoughts I couldn’t quiet.

The dim emergency lighting cast everything in shades of blue, throwing strange shadows across the deck. Zep had abandoned me to sleep on my bunk, leaving me alone with the hollow sound of my boots on metal grating and the constant, low hum of the ship’s engines.

I didn’t even hear him come in.

Zayrik leaned against the bulkhead, his presence filling the space in a way that should have made me feel trapped. Instead, it felt like coming up for air.

“You following me now?”

He shrugged. “You look like you’re trying to figure out how fast you can disappear.”

I snorted. “And you look like you don’t sleep.”

He smirked. “Not much.”

We stared at each other.

Then, he pushed. “You said you don’t trust people.”

I shifted. “Yeah?”

He tilted his head. “That mean you learned the hard way?”

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