Page 5 of Ashfall
Then, abruptly, he jerks back. “What the hell?” I move to his side, almost climbing into his lap to see “What is it?” My eyes fly to the screen, scanning frantically - then widen. The trainers’ names are all there, even listed in the descriptions. But one name is blacked out. And not just once. It appears repeatedly, concealed across multiple entries. I spot my own name under the list of soldiers who completed the course, alongside my score. “That blacked-out name is his,” I say firmly. “Iknowit is.Look, my name is right there.” Adam pulls up more files. Same pattern.
The name that should be his is concealed on all six documents we look at. “This doesn’t feel right, Nyx,” Adam whispers. “No. It doesn’t.” Noc seems to have risen from the dead. His file is classified, and any mention of him has been erased from the records we have access to, that are considered public for the military. Lead settles deep in my gut, nausea creeping in. Was he a traitor? No. Hecouldn’tbe. God, I don’t even know what to think, but that’s not it. I stand, push the window open, and start pacing, trying to rein in my thoughts as they explode. “I would never ask you to do-” Adam cuts me off before I can finish.
“No, Nyx. Listen to me. You said that the first time. I’m here, aren’t I?” His words pull me back. I stop pacing, my features softening as I look at him. “I can’t ask you to do this with me, Adam. This could beserious, I’d hate to get you reprimanded, or worse.” Adam exhales, determined. “I'm aware there may be risks. But let’s be honest, you’ve got no chance without me. You seriously think they’re calledcookie crumbsfor Christ’s sake.” Despite the pressure I feel, I laugh; leave it to Adam to find a way. “I’m with you, Nyx,” he says, voice firm. “We keep this to ourselves. I’ve got a feeling we’ve stumbled onto something we were never supposed to find.” I know we have. I just have no idea how deep this goes. Or the danger we’ve just put ourselves in.
CHAPTER FIVE
nyx
FOUR YEARS AGO
Ipushed through the briefing room's metal door, its dull grey surface rattling louder than I meant it to - but that’s for the best. Noc needs to hear it, needs to understand how pissed I am. The mission objectives had been laid out, dissected, and assigned.Wewent over them, though that word hardly applies. Noc made sure I wasn’t part of the discussion, sidelining me when he damn well knows I’m the asset this team needs. Worse, it’s setting me back, pushing my goal further from reach. This kind of experience is vital for my shot at special ops selection, and he knows it.
The team deploys in twenty-four hours. Noc’s excuse to sideline me is under the guise ofnecessary rest. Since my already delayed leave is scheduled to start on the day they're expected to return -bullshit. Satellite surveillance flagged irregular heat signatures deep in the taiga woodland near the Vyatka River, Russia. It’s a zone we've been monitoring for potential chemical manufacturing, intended to be distributed for attacks on home soil. Our undercover unit gained intel confirming the presence of an off-grid research spot.
The objectives: infiltrate the site with Viper-3 containing four special ops personnel. Noc rounds out the fifth. The Primaryfocus is to secure the data containing test results, then evacuate without triggering the alarm. Drone intel estimates around eight to ten guards, plus three individuals actively working the research. And Volokov, the kingpin of the organization, has been frequenting the area on a monthly basis. Secondary objective is to sever the generator to the main structure, beneath the derelict warehouse the testing's taking place. That should give us time to take the information back, see what we’re dealing with, and then have a team on standby to remove the chemicals. Then blow it to shit.
Beyond my bruised ego, there’s another reason I should be there: Nocturne. He’s half Russian, born to a Russian father and an American mother. Returning to this place digs up wounds he never speaks of, except in rare moments when it’s just us. I know fragments of the story. His father got tangled in a bad deal with shady individuals, hoping to send money home for Noc and his mom. They had a strained relationship, with his father not even being on his birth certificate. Whatever went wrong, he never made it out alive. His mother learned the truth from a friend, the one waiting in a car for his return. But all that came back was his hand, tossed through the window as a truck sped past. I’ve never asked for more. I don’t need to. Noc’s face says everything when he speaks of him.
I march through the halls and out into the evening air, exhaling sharply as I tilt my head skyward, trying to force out the frustration coiled tight in my chest. I’m definitely getting worked up because I’m in need of rest, but then I get angry, because that means Noc is right. The sun hangs low, casting an orange haze across the sky, streaked with faint wisps of white remnants of the earlier bright day fading into dusk.
Instinct guides my steps toward the memorial park. My mother has a plaque here, honoring her twenty-five years of service alongside the other fallen soldiers we’ve lost. My motherdied two years ago. Her body was never recovered - only her badge and weapon remain. I visit the memorial often; it always brings me a sense of calm. They buried her badge and weapon here at my request as the only remains of her truly left. She loved that thing, even if she didn't use it much during her time as General. I feel closer to her here, a place that fills me with feelings of hope that I make her just as proud of me, as I am of her.
I sit cross-legged on the metal bench, eyes fixed on the setting sky across the rolling hill lurking in the background. Lost in thought, letting the usual calm settle over me. A crunch in the gravel to my right halts my transition - I’m no longer alone. And I already know who it is. Slowly, I drag my gaze toward Noc. He stands at his full six-foot-five height, imposing as ever, dressed in a black t-shirt and grey camo cargos, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. He isn’t looking at me, his focus is on the memorial, on the place where my thoughts had been drifting. For just a fleeting moment, I catch it. A shift in his face, subtle but undeniable sorrow, slipping through the cracks before he shuts it away.
He looks back at me, his eyes cutting straight through to my soul. And I wish he wouldn’t, like it’s somehow his fault that he has this effect on me. Because the second I meet his glare, every problem I ever had ceases to exist. I’ve never truly stayed mad at him for long. But this time? I’m fucking livid. And that simmering frustration surges again when I catch that stupid signature smirk of his. A sharp and heated breath barrels from my lips, like fire bursting from my lungs.So much for my calm place.
He strides toward me, dropping to his haunches in front of me, palms pressing onto my knees as he lowers himself. The urge to kick my foot forward and send him sprawling on his ass is too tempting - it might actually make me feel better.“Oh, I know that look,” his deep chuckles send butterflies to my stomach, eyes gleaming with amusement. “The wheels are turning in that mischievous little head of yours. Planning to shove me on my ass, are you?” “The thought did cross my mind,” I admit, lifting my chin in defiance. He smirks,again. A breathy laugh escapes him, “If I fall, you’re coming with me, Malyshka.” and I roll my eyes - because of course he’d say something like that. The reaction only fuels his amusement, his laughter deepening, warm and unguarded.
God, I love that sound.
His words tighten like a vice around my heart.If only he knew.I’d go to the ends of the earth for him. “Oh, so I get to roll around in the grass with you, but when it comes to something meaningful, I’m dismissed?”
His sigh is as long as the airstrip behind us. “Brodie,” he says, head dipping. My real name - it always hits differently coming from him. He’s only said it a handful of times, and it’s only ever been in private moments, just the two of us. “You’re due for leave the day we’re expected back,” he continues, voice gentler now. “And that’s just the estimate, we could have any number of delays. I’m only trying to look out for you, and I wouldn’t get the sign off, you've already delayed the time off twice.” Then, a wry smile, devilish and amused. “Plus…” he lets out a slow exhale, dragging out the words. “The guys are going to start thinking I have a favorite.”
I roll my eyes for the second time. “Whatever,Nocturne.” I push up to stand, his hands fall away from my knees, and when he rises with me, it’s like the fading sun has been swallowed whole - his towering frame casting me in shadow, wrapping me in a cloak of night. “I should be on that team,” I argue, pushing past him, frustration creeping higher. “You don’t have anyone with my security clearance who can handle a rifle like I can, and this was my shot to gain the experi—” My words swap out for anoomphas he moves - fast. Before I can react, he sweeps around and rugby tackles me, lifting me clear off my feet. “NOC!” I shout, panic flaring in my chest. Not because I’m embarrassed, but because he'shigher rank than me.If someone spots us like this, there could be consequences. I don’t technically report to him - no one does officially. Except when we're deployed on missions he leads. But it's not worth the risks.
He carries me to a small outbuilding - one of those tucked-away spaces meant for maintaining the memorial park and surrounding grounds. As he unlocks the door, I can’t help but wonder how he even has a key, or how he managed to get inside so easily. Without hesitation, he steps in, ducking low so I don’t clip my head on the frame, then pulls the door shut behind him. The space is airy, still holding onto the lingering warmth from being sealed off all day.
Stone-beige walls meet cold concrete floors, the air thick with the scent of earth and aged materials. A window facing the park is covered with white metallic blinds - battered, bent, and long past their best days. The back of the room is cluttered with gardening tools, a simple storage setup and little else. He walks us toward the window, then carefully lowers me onto a wooden table. Even seated, positioned higher than usual, he still towers over me - always a shadow. A presence that never quite fades.
I cross my arms and dare to look up at him, fixing him with one of my lethal stares - the kind that makes most people shift uncomfortably. But not him. If anything, he treats it like a challenge. This time, though, he gives me a defeated sounding sigh. Without hesitation, he uncrosses my arms, pulling me closer as I lean into him. His arms wrap around me, one hand settling behind my neck, our foreheads pressed together. He closes his eyes, and just like that, my resolve crumbles. Slowly, my arms lift. One hand clutching his forearm, my thumb instinctively gliding across his cool skin where he holds me. Theother snakes around his waist, fingers gripping onto the black fabric of his t-shirt like it’s the only thing keeping me steady.
“Please don’t be mad at me before I need to leave.” His voice is quiet, edged with something raw. He takes a slow, trembling breath. “It makes this so much harder, Malyshka.” That Russian endearment would send me in a heap if I was standing. His thumb rubs softly at the back of my hair, and the fight within me - the stubborn, unyielding anger - starts to unravel. I close my eyes, releasing a slow, measured breath. Surrender.When I open them again, I’m met with my favorite storm. His ocean-blue and grey eyes locked onto mine, grounding me in ways I wish they wouldn’t. “I’m sorry,” is all I can manage.
As much as I want to be with him, for the mission, to help if he needs me… he’s a grown man, fully capable. And we’re not evenofficiallytogether. If he pushes too hard to get me on that team, people will start asking questions, especially now that everything is set. The unit assembled, and special ops integrated. I'd hate to be the reason this ended between us. “I’m sorry too,” he whispers, tilting his head to press a soft kiss to my forehead before pulling me into his arms. He holds me flush against him, his chin resting atop my head.
I squeeze him tighter. Like if I hold on exactly right, he won’t have to leave. Like time will stop, trapping us here in this moment, where there are no worries, no missions - just us. But reality tugs at the edges, forcing me to pull away slightly. He looks down at me, and our gazes forge in a silent battle of wills. I hate these moments. The ones where one of us leaves, and the other stays behind. Because the second he’s gone, I count down every minute, my thoughts consumed by him, by whether he’s safe. It’s all I ever care about. And then, when he finally walks back into my room, it’s like the weight of the world lifts from my shoulders. Everything is right again.
"Kiss me, Lev." For the first time, I use his real name. It’s usually always Noc, or Nocturne if I’m mad. But this moment is too raw, too intimate for anything else. It’s all I manage to say, and the smile he gives me is poetic - soft, knowing, and filled with something unspoken. We’ve never said those three big words, and the fear of them lodges deep in my chest. I’m scared to say them, scared he won’t feel the same. But in this moment, when his gaze traces my face like a map, when his thumb comes up to gently caress my jaw - I know he cares. I just hope it’s as much as I do.
He leans down, hovering just above my lips, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over my skin. His hooded eyes never leave mine, holding me there for just a moment longer, and my heart lurches. Overflowing with love and devotion for the tortured soul beneath my grasp. Then, he places a featherlight kiss against my lips. My whole body sparks. I kiss him back, and it’s different this time. It’s deeper, and more desperate. Passionate in a way we’ve never felt like before, like it’s the last thing we’ll ever do before the world ceases to exist around us.
And for the first time since I had been taken prisoner by those stormy blue eyes, we make love. It’s unlike anything we’ve had before. It’s achingly passionate, and devastatingly slow. Our kisses are intense, the whispers breathless, as if we’re holding onto our last moment together. The way he worships me, it’s like I’m the only thing that exists in his world. He’s gentle, and his touch conjures a fever inside me like nothing before. Our eyes never break contact – not for a single second. He studies me like a piece of history, tracing every detail as though he’s engraving me to memory.
As if this is the last time he’ll ever see me.
CHAPTER SIX
