Chapter 25 Luna
LUNA
Wildwood feels wrong.
The streets are too empty, the market stalls shuttered early, voices hushed like the whole colony has agreed to hold its breath. Even the wind sounds different—hollow, carrying a faint tang of ozone and dust. My gut twists with it, instincts sharpening until every hair on my arms stands up.
We’re supposed to be getting ready to leave. The plan was simple—pack, prep, vanish before Targen ever got close. But this quiet? This silence? It doesn’t feel like safety. It feels like a trap snapping shut.
I glance at Kraj as we move through the apartment. He doesn’t say anything, but his shoulders are coiled tight, golden eyes flicking to every window, every shadow. That alone confirms it: something’s coming.
“Check the cores again,” I tell him, shoving my shaking hands into a crate to cover the tremor. “If they glitch in transit, we’ll lose everything.”
He grunts in acknowledgment, crouching to sort through the backup data units—small blocks of matte black metal, their green indicators pulsing faintly.
Across the room, Solie chatters to herself as she stuffs a faded toy synthfox into her little pack. “He gets scared of the dark,” she explains solemnly when she sees me watching. My chest cracks a little at her innocence, at how she has no idea the kind of darkness already reaching for us.
“Sweetheart,” I say, kneeling by her, smoothing the tumble of blonde hair from her forehead. “Stay close to Mama today, okay?”
She nods, distracted, eyes already flitting to Kraj. “Can Kael come too?” she asks brightly, using his new name like it’s natural, like she’s been practicing.
My throat tightens. I don’t look at him, but I feel the weight of his gaze burning into me. “Yes,” I manage. “He’ll be with us.”
We work in silence after that. My fingers trace every latch on the med kit, checking and rechecking it’s sealed. Power cells line the counter, neat rows of cobalt-blue cartridges. The air tastes metallic, like the bite of storms before they break.
The comm on the wall chirps, sharp enough to make me flinch. Vale’s voice comes through, rough with static but clipped, efficient. “Activity near the outer ridge. Too organized for scavengers. Can’t confirm who, but it smells like intel.”
The words slam into me. My knees go weak, palms slick with sweat. I force myself upright, gripping the comm so tightly the edge bites into my skin.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” My voice is barely more than breath, but the silence on the other end tells me enough. Vale doesn’t need to say the name.
Kraj rises to his full height, the motion deliberate, heavy. He looks at me, no flinch, no hesitation. Just a slow nod.
“He won’t send drones,” Kraj says, voice gravel rough. “Not for this. He’ll come himself. He wants blood.”
Solie looks up at the sound of his tone, wide-eyed. “Who?”
I scoop her into my arms, clutching her so tight she squirms. My heart thunders against her tiny body, but she doesn’t complain—just hugs me back, her small fingers curling against my shoulder.
The realization cuts through me like ice. This isn’t just another mission, another danger to slip past. This is the endgame. Targen’s not coming to scare us. He’s coming to finish it.
And if he’s here… it won’t just be a fight.
It’ll be war.
We don’t wait. We can’t.
The tension in the air is too sharp, like it’ll cut us open if we stand still. Kraj moves first, hauling the crate of detonators to the door with a grunt. “We move now,” he says, voice clipped, decisive. “Before he sets the board.”
I want to argue. I want to demand one more hour, one more moment of normal. But the look in his eyes is steel, not open to negotiation. So I nod, and I move too.
The apartment becomes a flurry of motion.
Kraj loads gear with military precision—blasters, power cells, ration packs—everything in neat lines, like muscle memory guides his hands.
My hands shake as I check over the medkit again, tucking in Solie’s inhaler, the extra filter packs, the stitches kit Vale swore we’d never need.
Solie toddles into the room with her pack bouncing against her small back, clutching the stuffed synthfox like it’s a soldier in its own right. “Mama, I’m ready,” she says, beaming. My heart shatters. She has no idea what “ready” means.
Vale’s knock at the door is sharp, coded. Kraj lets him in, and the older man looks grim, the lines in his face etched deep. “Outer ridge activity’s closing,” Vale reports, eyes darting toward Solie. “Two squads minimum. They’re not bothering to hide.”
Kraj growls low in his throat, the sound rattling the air. “Good. Means they want me to see them. He’s here.”
I clutch Solie tighter, so hard she squeaks. “Vale,” I whisper, “take her. Now.”
Solie’s head jerks up. “Where?”
“Shuttle cache,” Vale says firmly. “Safe place, little star. We’ll play a game of hide-and-seek.”
“No!” she cries, clinging to my shirt. Her orange-gold eyes brim with tears. “I don’t wanna leave you!”
I crouch down, cupping her face, forcing my voice steady even as my chest threatens to cave in. “You have to be so, so brave for Mama, okay? Just for a little while. Go with Vale. If—if something happens—” My throat closes. “You keep going. Don’t stop.”
Her lip wobbles, but she nods, whispering, “Okay.”
I kiss her forehead, breathing her in like it’s the last time, then press the synthfox back into her arms. “He’ll protect you too.”
Vale lifts her gently, settling her on his hip. Her small hand waves at me as he turns to leave. I feel myself tear in half watching her go.
When the door shuts, silence slams into me.
I whirl on Kraj. “I should be with her. Not—”
He cuts me off with a snarl, grabbing my shoulders so hard it almost hurts. “No. You stay with me. I need your eyes, your mind. But if I don’t walk out of this canyon—” His jaw tightens. “You run. Do you hear me, Luna? You take her, and you run.”
“No,” I choke. “Don’t you dare put that on me. Don’t you dare.”
“Promise me.” His golden eyes blaze, molten fire. “Say it.”
My lips tremble. Every part of me screams no, but the words scrape out anyway: “I promise.”
He kisses me then, hard and desperate, teeth clashing, breath stolen.
It’s not gentle—it’s the kind of kiss you give when you don’t know if you’ll get another.
My fingers fist in the scales at the back of his neck, clinging like I could anchor him here.
He tastes of dust and heat and blood. He tastes like goodbye.
When he pulls back, his hand lingers on my cheek, thumb rough against my skin. “For Solie,” he murmurs.
“For us,” I correct, voice breaking.
He turns before I can stop him. His stride is long, unrelenting, every muscle in his massive body coiled with intent. I follow to the canyon mouth, heart hammering, watching him fade into the shadows.
And then it happens.
The shift.
His spine ripples, scales along his ribs pulsing gold like molten veins. His pupils narrow to slits, glowing faintly in the half-dark. His teeth lengthen, sharp points catching the starlight. Even his breath changes—deeper, heavier, like it carries thunder.
It’s terrifying. Beautiful. Otherworldly.
He glances back once, and for a heartbeat, I don’t see the man I used to love or the soldier who broke me. I see something else entirely.
A monster.
A guardian.
Mine.
And then he’s gone, swallowed by the canyon’s dark veins, leaving only the echo of his vow behind.