Chapter 8 Wrapped Up In You #2
“The one who broke into OOPS communications?”
“Among other things.” My tail tightens around her leg, an unconscious claiming gesture that makes her pulse jump. “He’s dangerous, brilliant, and absolutely without conscience when it comes to completing a contract.”
“Wonderful.” But there’s steel in her voice, the same determination that made her face down corrupt corporate executives and territorial warlords during her courier runs. “Anything else I should know?”
“He’ll try to get in your head. Make you doubt everything—your choices, your mission, whether the families we’re trying to save are worth the risk.” I cup her face with both hands, making sure she’s looking directly into my eyes. “Don’t listen to him. Trust what you know to be true.”
“Which is?”
“That you’re the most magnificent woman in three sectors, and that every family counting on us to deliver Christmas miracles chose exactly the right courier.
” My voice drops to that rough register that makes her breath catch.
“And that I’d rather die fighting beside you than live safely without you. ”
Something flickers in her eyes—surprise, maybe recognition that I mean every word. The admission hangs between us, weighted with everything we’ve shared and everything we’re about to risk.
“Ober...”
The pod lurches as the boarding tube locks into place, artificial gravity wavering as the systems integrate. Emergency lighting flickers, painting everything in urgent red that makes the moment feel apocalyptic and intimate all at once.
“Time to go,” I murmur, but I don’t move. Can’t move when she’s looking at me like I might actually be worth the risk she’s taking.
“Partners,” she says quietly, like a vow.
“Partners,” I agree, and lean down to brush my lips against hers—soft, quick, but weighted with everything we can’t say out loud. The kiss tastes like hope and desperation and the possibility that some partnerships are worth any risk.
When we break apart, both breathing harder than we should be, her eyes are bright with resolve and something that looks dangerously like trust.
“Remember,” I whisper, my thumb tracing her cheekbone one last time. “Sixty minutes. We can do anything for sixty minutes.”
“Even fall deeper in love while saving the galaxy?” The words slip out before she can stop them, and heat floods her cheeks as she realizes what she’s said.
My answer is a growl that vibrates through my chest and straight into her bones. “Especially that.”
The truth of it hits me like a plasma blast to the chest. What happened between us in that pod wasn’t just physical release—it was recognition that we’ve become something more than what we were apart.
The way she trusted me with her vulnerability, the way she chose to believe in the man I’m trying to become, has rewritten something fundamental in my understanding of what we could be together.
The airlock cycles open with a hiss of equalizing pressure, and we step into enemy territory together—reformed pirate and ethical criminal, partners in every sense of the word.
The boarding tube is narrow, forcing us to move single file, but I keep one hand on her lower back, letting my alien warmth seep through her jacket as a reminder that she’s not facing this alone.
The ship beyond is sleek, elegant, and absolutely lethal.
Chrome surfaces reflect emergency lighting in sharp angles, and the air tastes of ozone and recycled atmosphere with an undertone of something that might be blood.
This is a hunter’s ship, built for speed and violence, with no space wasted on comfort or civilian considerations.
“Welcome aboard the Phantom’s Edge,” Vex’s voice purrs through hidden speakers as we step into the main corridor. “Please proceed to the forward hold. Any deviation from the prescribed route will result in immediate termination.”
The corridor is lined with tactical displays showing ship configurations, route maps, and what looks like surveillance footage of OOPS convoy attacks.
My enhanced vision picks up details faster than human standard—shipping schedules, family photographs attached to target files, and worst of all, what appears to be a holding facility packed with terrified civilians.
The families. Dozens of them, huddled together in what looks like a cargo bay converted into a prison. Parents clutching children, elderly couples holding hands, all wearing the shell-shocked expressions of people who thought they were safe until the universe proved them wrong.
Noomi sees them too, and I smell the spike of fury in her scent—sharp and clean and absolutely murderous. Her hands clench into fists, but she keeps walking, keeps playing the role of defeated courier even as every instinct screams at her to fight.
The sight of her restraint, her ability to channel fury into tactical thinking, makes my chest tight with pride and possession. This is the woman who chose conscience over profit, who’s spent two years proving she deserves redemption.
“Easy,” I murmur, my hand spreading across her lower back in what I hope looks like comfort but feels more like a claiming gesture. “We’ll get them out. All of them.”
“They’re just families,” she whispers, and there’s pain in her voice that makes my alien instincts roar with the need to eliminate whatever put it there. “They just wanted to send Christmas gifts to people they love.”
“And they will.” The promise rumbles out as more growl than words. “Krax made one critical error in his revenge plan.”
“Which is?”
“He assumes we’re the same people who made that choice three years ago.” My tail brushes against her leg, offering comfort and claiming her simultaneously. “He doesn’t understand that we’ve both grown into something more dangerous than what we were apart.”
Before we reach the main hold, my comm unit chirps softly—an incoming transmission on a frequency I recognize. Mother’s emergency channel. Vex is ahead of us, leading the way with predatory confidence, but his enhanced hearing might pick up voices.
I catch Noomi’s eye and tap my comm, then her hidden pocket where PIP’s core rests. Understanding flickers across her face, and she shifts slightly, the movement causing her jacket to muffle any sound.
“Noomi?” Mother’s voice comes through crystal clear but carefully controlled. “Girl, your transponder just went active in hostile territory. What’s your status?”
“Alive but captured,” I murmur, keeping my voice barely above a whisper while Noomi positions herself to block Vex’s line of sight. “Mother, listen carefully. Krax isn’t just destroying Christmas packages—he’s taking hostages. Families who paid for deliveries.”
The silence stretches long enough that I worry we’ve lost connection. When Mother speaks again, her voice carries the deadly calm that means someone’s about to learn why crossing OOPS personnel is a fatal mistake.
“How many families?”
“Forty-seven that I’ve seen. Could be more.” I watch Vex’s elegant form ahead of us, calculating how much time we have before he notices we’ve stopped. “All being held in what looks like a converted cargo bay. This isn’t random revenge, Mother. This is systematic.”
“That bastard.” The venom in Mother’s voice could melt hull plating. “Any children?”
“Yes.” Noomi’s whisper is barely audible, but her voice breaks slightly on the word. “Families with children, elderly couples, people who just wanted to send Christmas gifts to their loved ones.”
The way her voice cracks makes something fierce and protective surge through my chest. This woman has been carrying the weight of every consequence from her moral choice, and now she’s seeing the human cost in the most visceral way possible.
“Copy that. Noomi, girl, I know what you’re thinking—you blame yourself for this. Don’t. Krax made his choices, just like you made yours. Right now, I need you to be the courier who never gives up on a delivery.”
The simple faith in Mother’s voice makes Noomi’s eyes bright with unshed tears. This woman who’s spent two years proving she’s worthy of redemption suddenly has someone who believes in her without question.
“We’re going to get their location and transmit coordinates,” I promise, still keeping my voice low. “Sixty minutes until backup arrives.”
“Make it forty-five.” Mother’s voice carries the authority of someone who’s moved mountains to complete impossible missions.
“I’m scrambling every available ship, calling in favors from three sectors, and personally guaranteeing that anyone who helps us rescue those families gets free OOPS services for a year. ”
“Mother—”
“No arguments, Nova. These are our people now. The families who trusted us to deliver their Christmas miracles? They’re OOPS family. And nobody messes with family.”
The transmission cuts just as Vex turns around, his phosphorescent circulatory system pulsing with suspicious interest.
“Touching conversation?” he asks, voice carrying that deceptive musical quality that makes smart people lower their guard.
“My AI was asking about environmental protocols,” Noomi lies smoothly, her courier training taking over. “Standard procedure when transferring between ships.”
“Of course.” Vex’s smile could cut diamonds. “How wonderfully mundane.”
But I catch the way his attention lingers on her, and I know he’s not entirely convinced. We’ll have to be more careful from here on out.
The corridor opens into a spacious hold that’s been converted into something between a throne room and an execution chamber.
Vex Korvain stands at the center, his translucent skin shimmering with phosphorescent patterns that pulse in rhythm with his alien heartbeat.
He’s beautiful in the way that predators are beautiful—elegant, deadly, and absolutely without mercy.
“Ober Kraine,” he says, voice carrying genuine pleasure and the promise of violence. “It’s been far too long. And you must be the famous Nova Jaxson, returned from the dead to play Christmas angel.”
“It’s Noomi,” I say firmly, stepping slightly in front of her in a protective gesture that’s pure instinct. “Her name is Noomi.”
Vex’s smile could cut diamonds. “How touching. The predator defending his reformed mate. Tell me, Noomi—was faking your death worth destroying this man’s sanity for two years?”
“It was worth becoming someone better than what we were together,” she replies, and there’s steel in her voice that makes my chest tight with pride. No fear, no apology, just absolute conviction in her choices.
“Better.” Vex tastes the word like wine. “Interesting perspective. Krax has a different opinion about the consequences of your moral evolution.”
A holographic display flickers to life between us, showing surveillance footage of the families in the holding bay.
Parents trying to comfort terrified children, elderly couples sharing what might be their last embrace, all of them wearing the clothes they’d put on to travel to Christmas celebrations that never came.
“Forty-seven families,” Vex continues conversationally. “All of them victims of your righteousness three years ago. Their packages were destroyed, their travel plans disrupted, their Christmas joy systematically eliminated. Because you chose to expose Krax’s business practices.”
“His business practices included destroying families,” Noomi snaps, her anger finally bleeding through the careful control. “Separating children from parents for profit.”
“And now he’s simply returning the favor.” Vex’s phosphorescent circulatory system pulses with cold satisfaction. “These families will spend Christmas in that cargo bay, watching their loved ones suffer, knowing that their pain exists because you decided to play hero.”
The words hit like physical blows, designed to break her resolve and make her doubt every choice that led us here. I can smell the spike of guilt in her scent, the way his psychological attack finds its mark.
“That’s enough,” I snarl, letting my predatory nature show as my pupils dilate and my claws extend. “You want to blame someone for Krax’s revenge? Blame me. I’m the one who couldn’t accept that she needed to grow.”
“Oh, I intend to blame you both.” Vex’s smile widens, revealing teeth that are just slightly too sharp. “Extensively. Krax has planned something particularly poetic for your execution. But first, he wants to meet with you personally.”
A section of the bulkhead slides away, revealing a corridor that leads deeper into the ship. Towards whatever fate Krax has planned for us, and hopefully towards the central computer systems we need to access.
“After you,” Vex says with mocking courtesy.
As we walk deeper into the ship, my enhanced senses catalog every detail—guard positions, weapon placements, the location of what appears to be the main computer core.
Beside me, Noomi moves with the fluid grace of someone mapping escape routes and tactical advantages even while playing the role of defeated courier.
The memory of her in my arms, trusting and vulnerable and magnificent, gives me strength. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together. Partners in every sense that matters.
Sixty minutes. We can do anything for sixty minutes.
Even save Christmas, destroy a revenge network, and fall completely in love while surrounded by enemies who want us dead.
The only question is whether our hearts can survive what we’ll have to do to keep our promises.