Chapter 23
The landing field sprawled beneath them—acres of plain permacrete surrounded by razor-wire fencing and guard towers that should have been impressive but struck Rykan as woefully inadequate.
He tracked every detail as the transport descended: the spacing between perimeter patrols, the blind spots created by poorly positioned surveillance equipment, the single checkpoint controlling access to the main road.
Pathetic.
In his father’s territory, a security arrangement this sloppy would have earned someone a death sentence. Here, it was apparently standard procedure for protecting one of the wealthiest families on the planet.
The transport settled onto the landing pad with a gentle thump.
Through the viewport, he could see a convoy of vehicles waiting—sleek black transports with tinted windows and the Duvain crest emblazoned on their doors.
More guards stood in formation, their postures suggesting boredom rather than alertness.
Beside him, Ember drew a steadying breath.
He caught her scent beneath the artificial fragrance of the ship’s recycled air—a hint of nervousness threaded through her usual sweetness.
His beast stirred, wanting to pull her close, wanting to carry her away from this place of glass and steel and treachery.
Instead, he placed his hand at the small of her back and she leaned into the touch.
“Ready?” she asked.
“I’m ready.” He kept his voice low, pitched for her ears alone. “Stay close to me.”
The hatch opened with a mechanical hiss, and they stepped out into the afternoon light.
The air hit him first—thick with unfamiliar smells, the acrid tang of exhaust fumes and industrial chemicals layered over something sweeter that might have been flowering plants.
Nothing like the clean mountain air he’d grown accustomed to.
His lungs protested the change, and he had to force himself not to wrinkle his nose.
Helena was already moving towards the lead vehicle, her tablet clutched like a weapon. “Miss Duvain, I’ve arranged for you to review the quarterly reports during transit. Your aunt has specifically requested—”
“Helena.” Her voice was pleasant but unyielding. “I appreciate your efficiency, but I’ve already told you—I’ll address company matters when I’m ready.”
“But your aunt—”
“Will wait.” Ember turned to where Tomas stood a few paces away, his weathered face carefully neutral. “Tomas, would you accompany us to my quarters? I’d like to be briefed on household matters first.”
The old man inclined his head. “Of course, Miss Ember.”
Rykan watched Helena’s reaction with interest. Her jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the skin.
Her eyes, dark and calculating, flickered between Ember and him, obviously trying to assess their relationship.
She was clearly accustomed to being obeyed, and equally clearly surprised to find her authority challenged.
Good, he thought. Let her wonder.
As they moved towards the waiting vehicles, he positioned himself slightly behind and to Ember’s right—close enough to intercept any threat, far enough to give her room to move if necessary.
The guards fell into formation around them, but their arrangement was all wrong.
Too clustered near the vehicles, leaving gaps in coverage.
Too focused on the obvious approaches, ignoring the elevated positions that offered perfect sightlines for a sniper.
He filed away each deficiency, adding it to the growing list in his mind.
The transport’s interior was all polished leather and soft lighting, designed for comfort rather than security.
He noted the lack of reinforced plating, the windows that were tinted but not armored, the absence of any obvious defensive systems. Anyone with a high-powered rifle could punch through this vehicle like paper.
Ember settled into the seat across from him, with Tomas beside her. Helena had been relegated to the front compartment with the driver—a small victory that brought a flicker of satisfaction to his chest.
“The tower is approximately twenty minutes from here,” Tomas said quietly. “Traffic permitting.”
He turned his attention to the window, watching the landing fields give way to industrial complexes, then commercial districts, then the soaring towers of Port Cantor’s financial center.
The city was overwhelming in its scale—millions of people packed into steel and glass hives, their lives playing out in spaces he could barely comprehend.
How does anyone live like this?
In the mountains, he’d known every rock, every tree, every game trail within a week’s walk of his cabin. Here, he was surrounded by strangers, hemmed in by structures that blocked his view of the sky. His beast paced restlessly beneath his skin, unsettled by the confinement.
But Ember was here. Ember needed him here.
That was enough.
The Duvain tower rose from the heart of the financial district like a blade of silver glass, its peak lost in the afternoon clouds. The convoy pulled into an underground entrance, descending through multiple levels of parking before reaching a private bay marked with the family crest.
More guards waited here, their formation marginally better than the ones at the landing field, but he spotted at least three obvious weak points in their coverage before the vehicle had fully stopped.
“Miss Duvain.” The guard commander stepped forward as they emerged from the transport—a tall man with silver threading through his dark hair and the bearing of someone accustomed to giving orders.
His uniform was immaculate, decorated with insignia that probably meant something to humans but conveyed nothing to Rykan except an inflated sense of self-importance.
“Welcome home. Your aunt has been informed of your arrival and requests—”
“Thank you, Commander.” She cut him off smoothly. “Please inform my aunt that I’ll contact her once I’ve had a chance to rest.”
The commander’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Of course. I’ll have a security detail escort you to your quarters.”
“That won’t be necessary.” She gestured towards him. “I have my own security.”
The commander’s gaze shifted to him, and a brief flash of contempt crossed his face. “Miss Duvain, with respect, our protocols require—”
“Your protocols can be updated tomorrow.” Her voice remained pleasant, but there was steel beneath the silk. “For tonight, I prefer privacy. Tomas, if you would lead the way?”
They moved through the underground level towards a bank of private elevators, and he noted every security station, every camera, and every potential chokepoint along the route. The commander watched them go, his expression unreadable, already reaching for the communications device at his belt.
Reporting to his true mistress, he thought grimly. Marina will know we’re here within minutes.
The elevator was another exercise in opulence—polished wooden walls, soft carpeting, lights that adjusted automatically to a warm, flattering glow. Tomas pressed his palm against a scanner, and the doors slid shut with barely a whisper.
“The penthouse level is accessible only to family members and specifically authorized personnel,” Tomas explained as they began to ascend. “Miss Duvain’s father had the security systems upgraded several years ago. They remain… reasonably effective.”
“Reasonably?” he asked.
Tomas met his gaze with surprising directness. “Nothing is impenetrable. But these quarters are more secure than most.”
The elevator opened onto a private foyer—all pale marble and soft lighting, with an elaborate floral centerpiece and a single door of dark wood at the far end. Tomas approached it, pressing his palm against another scanner. The door swung open.
Ember’s quarters were… vast. He stood in the doorway for a moment, struggling to process the sheer scale of the space.
The main room alone was larger than his entire cabin, its outer walls lined with windows that offered a dizzying view of the city below.
The furniture was arranged in careful groupings—sofas and chairs upholstered in fabrics that probably cost more than most families earned in a year, tables of polished wood and glass, shelves filled with books and decorative objects.
Everything was immaculate. Everything was beautiful. And everything felt completely foreign.
This is her world, he reminded himself. This is what she gave up when she was with me.
She moved through the space with the ease of long familiarity, trailing her fingers across the back of a sofa as she passed. “Tomas, please close the door.”
The old man complied, then turned to face them with an expression that had lost its careful neutrality. Worry creased his weathered features, deepening the lines around his eyes and mouth.
“Miss Ember… There is much you need to know. Much that I could not say in messages or communications that might be monitored.”
“I know we need to talk, but first… This is my mate, Rykan.”
She took his hand as she introduced him to the old man, her face radiating happiness.
The old man looked at their joined hands, then studied his face before he inclined his head.
It was not quite approval, but it was at least acceptance.
He returned the gesture then positioned himself near the windows where he could watch both the room and the door.
She sank onto one of the sofas and gestured for Tomas to join her. He settled into a chair across from her, his movements slow and deliberate. “Your father’s illness began nearly five years ago. He kept it hidden from most people—from you, especially. He didn’t want you to worry.”
“Five years?” Her voice cracked slightly. “I knew he was tired towards the end, but I didn’t realize…”