Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“You’re going to get yourself fucking killed.”
Doren finished checking the cargo straps on the supply crates and didn’t bother turning around. “Good morning to you too, Athtar.”
“I’m serious.” Heavy footsteps echoed through the Vagabond’s cargo hold as the massive male approached. “The Grorn have resources you can’t imagine. Fleets, informants, and technology that makes this rusted bucket look like a child’s toy.”
“You wound me. And her.” He patted the nearest bulkhead affectionately. “She’s sensitive.”
“This isn’t a joke.”
He turned to find Athtar standing with arms crossed over his broad chest, his white braids catching the dim light of the hold. The big male’s expression was thunderous, which was fairly standard, but there was something that looked almost like concern beneath it.
“I know it’s not a joke.” He kept his voice level. “I’ve been running from various people who want me dead for most of my adult life. The Grorn are just the latest in a long line.”
“The Grorn are different. They don’t just want you dead—they want what you have.
And they’re ruthless.” Athtar moved closer, his sheer size making the cargo hold feel cramped.
“I’ve seen what they do to people who get in their way.
We both have. Entire fucking colonies, Doren.
Reduced to ash because someone might have information about the Keys. ”
“I’m aware of their reputation.”
“Are you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re about to fly directly into their crosshairs with a human female and the most valuable infant in the galaxy as passengers.”
His tail lashed in a sharp whip of irritation he couldn’t quite suppress. “What would you have me do? Hide here forever? Wait until they eventually find this place and bring the fight to your doorstep?”
“That’s not—”
“It is exactly what would happen, and we both know it.” He turned back to the cargo straps, checking them again just for something to do with his hands.
“The Grorn tracked us to Bragar’s Rest within hours.
They have sources everywhere. Staying in one place isn’t safety—it’s painting a stationary target. ”
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the hum of the ship’s environmental systems and the distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs outside. Then Athtar sighed, his heavy hand turning Doren around whether he wanted to face this conversation or not.
“I’ve never seen you look at anything the way you look at those two.”
He met his friend’s eyes, searching for mockery and finding none. Just that unsettling sincerity that Athtar wore so uncomfortably.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I’m asking you what happens when you have to choose.”
The question hung in the air like smoke.
He turned away, moving to check a completely unnecessary gauge on the wall. “It won’t come to that.”
“It always comes to that. Sooner or later, life forces us to decide what matters most. The question is what you’ll do when the moment arrives. When you’re standing at those mythical gates with the prize of a lifetime in front of you, and they need you somewhere else.”
“You’re assuming that moment will come.”
“I’m assuming you’re not stupid enough to believe it won’t.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his tail curling with frustration. “I don’t have an answer for you. I can’t predict the future, and I can’t make promises about choices I haven’t faced yet.”
“I’m not asking for promises. I’m asking you to fucking think.
” Athtar pushed off from the crates and approached again, this time stopping just within arm’s reach.
“You’re my friend, you stubborn bastard.
I want you to be happy, and I’m terrified that you’re going to throw away your chance because you’re too busy chasing fucking ghosts. ”
“The Vault isn’t a ghost. It’s real.”
“Is it? You’ve seen the Serpent’s Maw. You haven’t seen beyond it. And I’ve seen what happens to people who sacrifice everything for a goal they never reach. It’s not pretty.”
The words struck deeper than he wanted to admit.
He thought of all the nights he’d spent poring over ancient texts, all the credits he’d burned chasing leads that went nowhere, all the relationships he’d abandoned because they got in the way of his search.
His entire adult life, filtered through the lens of a single obsession.
And now there was Emma. Emma with her warm brown eyes and her stubborn courage and her absolute certainty that he was worth more than he believed. Emma, who looked at him like he was already enough—not because of what he might find or what he might become, but simply because of who he was.
The feeling terrified him.
“I hear you,” he said quietly. “I do. But I’m not ready to give up the search. Not yet.”
“I’m not asking you to give it up. I’m asking you to be prepared for the possibility that something matters more.” Athtar clasped his shoulder, a warrior’s gesture of respect. “And I’m asking you to protect them. Not just from the Grorn, but from yourself.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means don’t drag them into danger for the sake of your fucking obsession. If the hunt gets too risky or if the odds turn against you, let it go. Walk away. Choose the life in front of you over the legend in your head.”
He wanted to argue. He wanted to insist that he could have both and that he wouldn’t have to sacrifice anything. But the words died in his throat, strangled by the uncomfortable suspicion that Athtar might be right.
“I’ll try,” he managed.
“That’s all I ask.” Athtar released him and stepped back, his expression shifting to something more familiar—gruff affection barely masked by irritation. “Now get out of my docking bay before I change my mind about letting you leave.”
“Letting me? I’d like to see you try to stop me.”
“Don’t tempt me.” But there was a smile tugging at the corner of Athtar’s mouth. “Faith packed supplies for you, enough to last you several standard months if you’re careful.”
“She didn’t have to—”
“She wanted to. And you know better than to argue with her.” Athtar moved towards the cargo hold exit, then paused, looking back over his shoulder. “Be careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
“You’re never careful. You’re fucking lucky, which is entirely different and considerably less reliable.” Athtar held his gaze for a long moment. “Good hunting, Doren va Karr. Try not to die.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
And then Athtar was gone, his heavy footsteps fading up the corridor towards the docking bay exit.
He stood alone in the cargo hold, surrounded by supplies and trade goods and all the accumulated evidence of his wandering life, as the conversation played back through his mind.
What happens when you have to choose?
He didn’t know. That was the truth of it.
He’d spent so long defining himself by the hunt, by the search for the Vault, by the desperate need to prove he was worth something.
The idea of giving that up and being content with ordinary happiness, with a family, with a life that didn’t constantly push forward towards some distant goal felt foreign and unnatural.
But so did the idea of losing Emma. Of watching her walk away because he’d chosen his obsession over her. Of explaining to Ari someday that he’d missed her childhood because he was too busy chasing legends.
“Damn you, Athtar,” he muttered, and went to finish the pre-flight checks.
Emma was in the captain’s cabin when he found her, settling Ari into the makeshift crib they’d assembled from cushions and cargo straps. The baby was already half-asleep, her silver skin faintly luminescent in the dim light.
“Everything okay?” Emma looked up as he entered, her brow creased with concern. “You were down there a long time.”
“Just saying goodbye. You know how Athtar is—he can’t let anyone leave without a lecture.”
“About what?”
He hesitated, then crossed to stand beside her, looking down at the sleeping infant. “About choices. About what matters. The usual philosophical nonsense.”
She was quiet for a moment, her hand resting lightly on Ari’s chest. “He’s worried about us.”
“He’s worried about you and Ari. I’m fairly certain he’d be happy to see me fly into a sun.”
“That’s not true and you know it.” She straightened, turning to face him. “He loves you. In that grumpy, never-admits-it kind of way.”
“He has a terrible way of showing it.”
“Most people do.” She reached up, smoothing a wrinkle in his collar that didn’t exist. It was a gesture she’d started doing recently, a casual intimacy that never failed to make his heart stutter. “What did he say? Really?”
He caught her hand, holding it against his chest. “He asked me what I’d do if I had to choose between the Vault and... other things.”
“Other things being us.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes searched his face. “And what did you tell him?”
“That I didn’t know.” The honesty felt like swallowing glass. “I’ve never been good at choosing, Emma. I’ve spent my whole life running from decisions, keeping my options open, and making sure I always had an exit route.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do. I’m not blind.” Her smile was sad but understanding. “You flinch every time I talk about the future. You change the subject when things get too serious. You’ve built your entire life around the freedom to leave whenever you want.”
“And that doesn’t... bother you?”
“It terrifies me.” She laughed softly. “But I’ve decided to trust you anyway. Maybe that makes me stupid.”
“It makes you braver than I am.”
“Brave or stupid—the line is thinner than people think.” She rose on her toes and kissed him, soft and brief. “I’m not asking you to choose right now. I’m not asking you to give up the Vault or make promises you can’t keep. I’m just asking you to be honest with me. With yourself.”
“Athtar said something similar.”
“Then maybe you should listen.”