Chapter 12
SOLEIL
The morning light filtered through the glass wall facing the lake, gilding the air in amber and hush.
Soleil padded into the kitchen in her socks and one of her softer sweatshirts.
Her hair lay braided to one side, cheeks still warm from sleep, albeit one where she’d tossed and turned.
Her mind hadn’t let her rest, nor had her body, aching for the man under whose roof she lived, on edge with her growing attraction to him.
Now she froze mid-step as her eyes fell on the man in question, in a black vest, shorts, barefoot.
A mug was cradled in his hand, sitting at the head of his dining table, staring out over the sliding doors and water beyond.
The line of his muscled shoulders flexed as he turned, daybreak’s glow painting every ridge of his deltoids in molten bronze, highlighting his gilded orchid and sable ink.
He sensed her presence and glanced back.
‘Morning,’ he rasped, his timbre delicious, timbred, and rough from sleep.
‘Morning,’ she murmured.
She moved past him to the counter and stood on tiptoe, stretching for a mug perched just beyond reach on the upper shelf, her fingers brushing the edge but failing to grasp it.
With a quiet huff of frustration, she peeked over her shoulder.
‘Can you -?’ Her voice came softer than she intended. ‘Could you help me reach a cup, please?’
Santi was there in two steps, his presence closing in like a heat wave.
He didn’t speak, just reached over her, his arm grazing her own, chest hovering near but not quite touching.
His scent, clean linen, bourbon, and the essence of all that was heated and elemental.
His sinewed palms encircled the mug with effortless ease.
For a beat, they stood still, close, skin almost brushing. Her breath caught, his violet sapphire eyes glimmered, and a tug of a smile played on his mouth.
Fokk, this man was handsome.
He lowered a cup to her, his fingers grazing hers, lingering just a beat too long.
She glanced up, and their eyes locked.
His gaze burned steady, watchful, like a storm scarcely leashed.
She swallowed, cheeks flushing, and turned away too fast, clutching the mug like a shield to pour a quick kahawa with trembling hands.
‘I was still wondering whether it’s still OK to stay here,’ she muttered, trying for casual but failing, her voice too soft, too shaken. ‘I don’t want to overstay.’
He didn’t move from his place in front of her. ‘Like I said before, there’s no need to rush, carino,’ he murmured. ‘Take your time. The right home will find you.’
How he said it, timbred and unhurried, a rare softness from such a hard-edged man, enveloped her chest and squeezed.
She tipped her face to him.
‘Sante,’ she whispered, stepping in closer without meaning to. ‘That means a lot.’
Before she could overthink it, she rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, quick and soft.
Her lips grazed skin warmed by morning sun and sleep.
She pulled back, her inhale uneven, as their eyes locked.
His arm came around her, then the other, drawing her flush against him.
His body was solid and robust, and the sheer heat of him stole her breath.
Was he trying to make her lose her shit entirely?
One hand splayed across his bare chest, the other clutching her precious freakin’ cup, as her heart thrummed.
That’s when she perceived a pulsing energy, a palpitation that sparked where their bodies touched.
The throb of it reverberated through her, magnetic, pulling her in, making her limbs hum.
He tilted her chin up with one finger, the pad of it gentle beneath her jaw.
His eyes seared into hers. ‘You have to know, however, that if you stay, I’m the kind of fire that takes a while to light, carino. But once you do, I’ll be the blaze that never goes out. You also need to know that you ignite me, more than any woman ever has.’
Her lips parted, her breath shallow.
‘So decide for yourself,’ he finished, voice velvet and gravel, ‘if you’re okay with enduring my flames.’
She swallowed. ‘I have this problem, you see, of playing with fire.’
He smirked as his eyes darkened, storm clouds behind obsidian glass. ‘Fine by me, if you don’t mind getting scorched.’
Logic and panic flooded her, and she trembled.
With an inhale, she stepped back, breaking their heated contact and placing the mug on the table.
She also sliced her eyes from his, unable to deal with the flames she saw within them.
She turned and swiveled, leaving the room without the kahawa she’d come in search of, but needing to flee him and his inferno. ‘I really should get ready for work.’
He tilted his head. ‘You all better already, mi sol?’
She was all sorts of something.
She swiveled and fled, powerless against the heat of his gaze any longer.
The fire in his words still licked at her soul as she hurried down the hall, pulse sprinting in her throat.
SANTIAGO
Santi prowled into The Sombra’s executive corridor.
He hit the bridge first, slipping past engineers and crew working to patch scorched conduits and stabilize recalibrated systems.
Flash-welders sparked in one corner while metanoids floated overhead, crawling the panels with surgical precision.
Boaz looked up from a diagnostics display in the temporary cockpit, formerly the captain’s ready room.
‘Status?’ Santi asked, arms crossed, his tone even but commanding.
Boaz grunted. ‘The central console’s toast, environmental shield relays fried, but core functions are stable. We’ll be shipshape in two days, maybe less.’
‘Good,’ Santi said with a tight nod, watching the flicker of repair logs on the wall. ‘Make sure all backups get double-tested. We’re not dallying in this dance twice.’
‘Fokk no.’
‘Put your back into it, cabrón, get it done,’ Santi grinned, clapping a hand over his brother’s shoulder.
Boaz’s mouth twitched. ‘You seem buoyant today.’
Santi smirked but said nothing.
He turned on his heel and prowled toward the Signet executive office, whistling under his breath.
As Santi swept past his brothers with a jaunt in his step and a tune on his lips, Kaal raised an eyebrow.
Kaal reclined back into his leather chaise, sipping from a silver thermal flask and huffing.
‘Well, well,’ Kaal rasped, grinning. ‘Someone’s spreading sunshine this morning.’
Mak glanced up from a tactical readout and added with a smirk, ‘Or maybe someone’s sun curled up next to him in bed.’
Their XO flicked them both off without breaking stride and tossed his jacket on the back of his chair. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’
‘Oh, but we do, because nothing but a woman gives a cat like you that Cheshire grin,’ Mak muttered under his breath.
Before Santi could retort, Miral was striding in on platformed heels like she owned the place.
Her face was sleek and unreadable as ever, and a data pad was clutched in her hand.
‘We have confirmation the fokkers behind the op were Red Skulls. It was sanctioned at the highest level,’ she said without preamble. ‘One of the surviving attackers spilled everything during interrogation.’
Miral’s lips pressed into a line. ‘He said the order came straight from Vern Gage. Varnok’s brother. The mission was to strike us, to punish us for keeping the Mad Wolf King locked away in our prison.’
Santi’s brows furrowed. ‘You believe that’s all it was?’
‘Nada.’ Miral sat on the edge of the meeting table. ‘I think it was a dry run. They’re testing us. Mapping our response time, weaknesses.’
Santi leaned forward against his desk, fingers tapping in a slow, dangerous rhythm. ‘What were they after?’
‘I would wager a few thousand chills that they’re preparing to break Varnok out.’
He snorted. ‘We’re impenetrable. They’d be suicidal to try.’
Miral’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are we, Santi? That breach came from our shafts. They had blueprints. Maps. Insider access.’
A muscle in his jaw ticked. ‘We need to track whoever their contact is.’
Miral didn’t argue, but she did tilt her head with a razor-edged smile. ‘Let’s hope spacing their best capos means they’re bleeding now. However, if their goal is Varnok, they’re not done. Not by a long shot. They’ll just come at us harder.’
Santi arched a brow. ‘How many of their capos and soldiers did we get?’
‘Fifty,’ she replied crisply. ‘Dead. Or enjoying a nice, solitary nap in the sub levels. Either way, we decimated their senior ranks.’
Santi’s gaze shifted into a lethal glare. ‘Let them. I’ll burn the whole void to ash before we let them take what’s ours.’
Miral nodded once. ‘Indeed.’
She turned to leave, but he called out, his growl with menace threading through it.
‘One more thing.’
She paused.
‘I want the mole. Whoever showed them in, we’ll find them, flush them out, and hang them dry. No mercy, no deals, just consequences.’
Miral’s expression sharpened. ‘Already on it.’
SOLEIL
Soleil stood at the edge of the maintenance office doorway, smoothing the front of her uniform and forcing her breath to even out.
Her shift badge hung at her waist, and the scuff on her boots had been polished out with obsessive care that morning.
Wren glanced up from behind a metal desk piled with scanner pads and scheduling logs. ‘Look who’s back,’ he said, quirking a brow. ‘Glad to see you vertical again, Sol.’
She nodded, mustering a small smile. ‘Sante for covering for me.’
He snorted. ‘I had no choice, and besides, I wouldn’t want to rile your sponsor now, don’t you?’ He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest with a smirk. ‘Not just anyone, either. The XO of the Sombra.’
Before she could respond, a voice piped up behind her. ‘What’s this about the XO?’
Soleil turned to see Astra striding into the room, her brows lifted and curiosity painted all over her face.
She was dressed in sleek coveralls that hugged her curves, her thick, wild hair contained in a bun, her lips pursed. ‘Woman, where the hell have you been?’
‘Long story, I’ll tell you outside as I don’t want to bore Wren with repeating it.’
Their boss waved the pair away as he twisted back to his books.
Soleil grabbed Astra’s arm, dragging her out of the office.
In the corridor, she exhaled and whispered, ‘I’m just staying with Santi for now. Nothing else. Just until I find a place to rent.’
Astra’s brows rose so high they almost vanished into her hairline. ‘Santi, is it now? The XO? You’re staying with him?’
‘You heard me.’
Astra smirked. ‘You mean lodging with him, or living with him?’
Soleil gave her a sharp look.
‘Oh come on,’ Astra laughed. ‘The man looks like a pirate king dipped in molten sin. If he so much as aimed one of his velvet growls at me from that luscious mouth, I’d melt on the fokkin’ spot.’
Soleil blinked and spoke in a hushed warning. ‘Astra.’
‘What? Don’t tell me he hasn’t -.’
Soleil raised a hand. ‘Enough. We’re not doing this. It’s temporary and innocent. That’s it.’
Astra rolled her eyes but grinned. ‘Alright, but don’t pretend you haven’t eye-fokked his face, torso, and those thick thighs.’
Even though all that Astra stated was true, Soleil rolled her eyes, turned on her heel, and left her friend cackling behind her.
She returned to her shift, heading up to Deck 27, her service cart gliding beside her as she scrubbed down a few high-rotation guest cabins.
The work was both comforting and routine, involving physical labor.
Her body moved on instinct while her mind drifted, always circling back to Santi.
Heck, she had never felt so much freedom around a man.
His words, his promise, were playing with her mind and soul. She found herself excited, counting seconds to see him.
However, her workload was extensive, so she put all thoughts of him aside to get through her tasks.
It was dark when she finished and returned to her cabin.
The lights were dimmed to a soft amber, casting warm hues over the polished floors and stone counters.
She dropped her satchel on the counter and sighed.
It felt like slipping into a haven, but the moment didn’t last.
A searing pain shot up her wrist.
‘Fokk,’ she gasped, staggering back as the comms bracelet burst through her skin once more, metal twining like vines over bone and flesh until it latched, solid and cold. Her mouth trembled.
The holo activated, a flickering projection stabilizing mid-air.
‘It’s Vern,’ came the guttural, oily purr. ‘How are you, Scarletta?’
Her spine stiffened. ‘What do you want?’
Vern’s face twisted, his cruel features twisted and warped.
‘What do I want?’
His snarl was pitched with fury. ‘I want fifty of my best men brought back to life and out of lock up! I want my weapons stockpile replaced! I want the entire fokk-up you handed us yesterday reversed!’
She flinched, her chest tightening.
‘We tried the bridge, using the schematics and codes you provided. We thought The Sombra would be easy with their captain gone on honeymoon,’ he snarled, pacing now, his image distorted with static.
‘That the strong guard was weak without him. We didn’t count on their XO having a death wish and spacing himself, his Signet brothers, and all my freakin’ capos.
He and his people lived. MINE DID NOT. Now look at us.
Shattered, scattered, and shamed. Why didn’t you warn us? ’
Soleil jolted and hissed. ‘I did, I said not to make any risky moves. All along, the plan has been to hit only the prison deck. You caused that shitshow on your own by not listening to me. How is it my fault?’
The man was manic, making wild assertions that made no sense.
‘We were left in the wind when the jail was raided and our people put in solitary confinement. We needed to pivot to a new strategy,’ he spat with venom. ‘Also, Scarletta, never address me that way ever again. Don’t forget who owns you. You are ours, and we own every breath you take.’
She shook her head, so annoyed she lost it. ‘Fokk off.’
Vern leaned in, his eyes glowing like twin embers. ‘How dare you? I will burn you alive from the inside out.’
He tapped a series of commands into the console on his end of the call, and she convulsed in agony.
As red-hot bolts of piercing pain rode her, radiating from her wrists, so agonizing they seemed to pierce her eyeballs.
It was so protracted that she fell to her knees, writhing until it stopped.
She curled up into herself, shaking even as Vern’s laugh washed over her.
‘Time to up the ante, Scarletta. We need up-to-date schematics of that prison deck. Savvy?’
With that, the projection blinked out, and she was left in the stillness of Santi’s kitchen, her cuffs burning, heart galloping inside her ribs like a trapped animal.
She pressed a hand to her chest.
Wishing a life of no more running or hiding.
Damn, she was so freakin’ tired of being someone’s pawn.
She was also broken and soul-weary of her secretiveness.
However, the cloak-and-dagger game she was playing remained, and Santi couldn’t know.
Not unless she wanted to breathe her last at the same time.