Page 10 of The Monster's Daughter
His head jerks, eyes narrowing. Like he’s waiting for the accusation, the condemnation. It doesn’t come.
“I’m not saying they deserved it,” I add, voice rough. “But I’m not crying over them either.”
He studies me, unreadable. For once, I don’t fill the silence with another jab. I just sit there, letting it be.
Then the words tumble out before I can stop them. “Jamie. Who was she?”
His whole body shifts, like I struck something deep. The shard of metal drops to the floor with a clatter.
“She was…” He exhales, voice lower, raw. “She ran the spice stall beside my family’s deli. Human. Middle-aged. Laughed like breaking glass. She brought my parents bread when the shelves emptied. She gave me food when I went hungry, even though she had little herself. She… was kind.”
The picture he paints is so vivid it cracks something jagged inside me. I see the market stalls, smell the spices, feel the warmth of a life he actually loved. And I can’t square it with the monster who tore through an Alliance squad like tissue.
Maybe monsters can mourn.
Monsters can love.
By afternoon, the sky darkens too fast, clouds roiling thick with poison ash. The wind shifts, whipping grit so sharp it stings my eyes.
“Storm,” Kage growls.
We duck under the twisted husk of a hovertruck, rust flakes raining down as we squeeze into the cramped shelter. The wind howls outside, static from busted comms whining in my ears like a swarm of angry bees. Visibility drops to nothing, the world outside gone white with choking ash.
Inside, it’s just us.
I shift, trying to make room. My thigh brushes his. His body locks up instantly, rigid as steel. So does mine.
The air goes electric, hot and sharp, buzzing against my skin. Our breathing syncs without meaning to—shallow, fast, too loud in the small space.
I don’t move away. Neither does he.
Hazard lights blink somewhere under the truck, painting everything in a pulsing red glow. His scales catch it, turning the silver patterns molten. His eyes catch it too, molten mercury staring straight into me.
We don’t kiss.
But gods, it feels closer than that. More dangerous.
Every heartbeat thunders in my chest like artillery. My lips part, breath hitching. His claws flex against the dirt, like he’s fighting the same war I am.
And for one suspended moment, I forget he’s my captor. Forget the squad. Forget the ropes.
It’s just him. And me. And a line between us that’s burning away.
CHAPTER 8
KAGE
The storm dies, but my thoughts don’t clear with it.
Ash peels off the sky in soft drifts, the kind that coat everything in gray silence, but inside me it’s louder than artillery. Louder than the mech’s scream when its legs snapped. Louder than Jamie’s last breath.
Her thigh brushed mine. Just a twitch of muscle in the cramped dark, but it burned like lightning under my scales. Her breath had grazed my neck, hot and human and maddening. For one flickering moment, I felt her heart beat in time with mine.
That wasn’t the storm. That wasn’t fear.
That was the bond.
Jalshagar, alive and electric, clawing through my chest like it wanted out.
