Page 114 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
“I already cleaned up in the lab before they dragged me to the arena,” she says with a small smile.
The guards come back to bring us a pitiful excuse for a meal: some synthetic protein paste, a bit of water, and a bruised fruit. After everything we’ve been through, it might as well be a feast. We eat in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
Once the trays are taken away, the cell dims to nighttime lighting—soft, almost gentle.
Our bodies are wrecked, but our minds are still spinning too fast to sleep. I can’t help myself.
“Noviosk?”
“Human?” he replies from the other cell, his voice muffled by the wall.
“What do you think Danuk’s planning for tomorrow?”
Silence. Then:
“How would I know? If tonight was just the appetizer, tomorrow’s the bloodbath. He wants a show. And the best shows are brutal.”
I swallow hard, staring into the darkness.
“If your plan involves us getting out of here alive,” he says dryly, “you better start working on it soon.”
“I’m on it. Trust me,” I say, trying to sound cocky.
He lets out a low grunt. Might’ve been a laugh. Might’ve been a sigh. Hard to tell with Noviosk.
I lie down slowly on the lower bunk, every muscle aching, skin tight and raw from the day.
A few minutes later, Sam slips off her dress and quietly climbs in beside me. She presses gently against my side, aware that just breathing hurts.
I wrap one arm around her, and she rests her head on my shoulder, hand on my chest—like she always does.
I run my fingers through her hair gently. She looks up at me, her gaze full of worry.
“We’re going to make it,” I murmur before brushing her lips with mine—soft, featherlight.
Our kiss is tender, unhurried. Nothing more.
My lips, cracked from the sun, can barely handle the contact. And even though my body stirs from her nearness, I know there's no way we’re going any further tonight.
Not with Noviosk just a few feet away. Not with my back on fire. Not with guilt still gnawing at my gut.
So I just pull her closer. She curls against me, her breathing gradually syncing with mine. And in that quiet embrace, we finally slip into a fragile, but healing, sleep.
27-Samantha
I wake up wrapped in Ayden's arms. His face is nestled against my neck, his breathing slow and steady. He's still asleep.
Gently, I place a hand on his chest. His skin, burning hot last night, is back to normal temperature. That's a good sign. Let’s hope that twisted Danuk doesn’t subject them to that ridiculous torture again.
I stay still, savoring this precious moment in the arms of the man I’ve loved for so long. Not for his looks, though I can’t deny them or resist them—let’s be honest—but for everything else he is. For his quiet strength, his loyalty, the way he’s always watched over Logan like a protective big brother. For his humor, even in the worst situations. Logan often told me stories of their adventures, always sprinkled with that lightness Ayden brings to everything. And because, for as long as I can remember, he’s always seen me—really seen me—for who I am.
Our connection was instant, mutual—at least, that’s what I believe. And after all those years apart, all that waiting and hoping... we finally found each other again. Just not under the best circumstances. And if this night ends up being the only one we ever have, I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life.
Under my fingers, I feel Ayden’s pulse quicken, his skin tremble, his muscles tense like he’s waking up. His eyelids lift, and I fall into those obsidian eyes of his. The crooked smile he gives me does things to me.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
“Hey. How do you feel this morning?”
