Page 34 of Claimed By the War Brute
I wrap my arms around him, pressing my face into the crook of his neck. I inhale him: gunpowder, sweat, raw metal. His chest expands as he breathes me in, and when I feel his arms tighten around me, I feel something precious settle into my bones: I’m not alone anymore.
We retreat to a bench against cold stone. My head still swims. He cups my face with careful fingers, thumb brushing the dried blood along my jaw. “You’re alive,” I whisper, voice breaking on a whisper that should be sob, but isn’t.
“So are you,” he rumbles, voice thick like smoke and earth. He wipes my cheek with a calloused thumb. “I thought I lost you.”
A shudder steals me. “You didn’t.” I rest my forehead against his chest and breathe in time with his heart. “Not now. Not ever.”
He kisses my temple. Our silence is familiar now—custom-made in the endless fugitive nights. I draw back and study his profile. The bruises, the scars… he still looks spectacularly broken.
“Why didn’t they kill you?” I ask finally, words shaking out of my lips.
He looks forward, jaw firm. “Aelphus wants to see what I’ll do next.” There’s weight in those words that makes me shiver.
“And did he?” I demand, turning to meet his eyes. “Did you?”
He looks at me then, and the molten light of his gaze strikes truth into my chest. “Not yet.”
I study him. “So... what will you do?”
He closes his eyes. We both know the stakes. When he opens them, they’re resolute. “I’ll burn it all down.”
A single breath leaves me, a whisper of equal intent. “Good. Because I have a plan.”
I reach inside my jacket and pull out the chip—dark and slick as night. I place it in his palm. “Stolen from the heart of his empire.” I explain, voice surprisingly steady. “Shipment logs. Black-ops contracts. Kill orders. Compromised alliances. It ties him to weapons shipments, terrorist strikes, even blackmail of diplomats. Enough to strip him of power.”
He turns the chip over in his large, scarred hand. It glints like a weapon.
“This doesn’t just hurt him,” I continue, both of us leaning in. “It undoes him.”
He glances up and studies my face. He traces a finger just beneath my collarbone. “You’ve done something… incredible.” His voice is quieter now. “I’m proud of you.”
Inside my chest, something blooms—hope. I offer him a shaky smile. “It’s not over.”
His hand tightens around mine. “Then… we take this to Dowron. We force the Alliance’s hand. Cut your father out like a cancer.”
“And if they won’t bite?” I ask, heart thudding.
He shades his gaze, jaw set. Golden eyes glittering with all the turmoil inside. “Then we do it the old way. You tear down his empire. I shatter his armies. And we leave him bleeding under the ruins of his own greed and ambition.”
My breath catches. “Together.”
He squeezes my hand. “Together.”
I let go of the chip and lean into him again, heart pounding. “Tell me something true.”
He draws me in close and whispers into my hair, “You're worth it.”
I swallow past emotion that makes my throat feel thick. “So are you.”
We sit, chest to chest, hearts loud in the artificial night. Around us the world waits—Alliance handlers, Vortaxian kings, corporate assassins, and a galaxy that thinks it still owns us. But in this stolen hush, it doesn’t matter.
We’ve made our choice.
No more running.
No more reacting.
We are the fire now.
