Chapter 47
KAZ
The lift drops like it’s been cut loose from gravity, plunging us down the spire’s central shaft at gut-clenching speed.
My fingers wrap around the rail, knuckles pale against golden scales.
Nova stands across from me, one hand braced against the wall, her jaw clenched so hard I can see the muscle twitch.
We’re silent.
There’s no time for speeches.
No air for fear.
The control center sits like a buried god at the core of the research base—sealed behind enough security layers to keep a Reaper war pack at bay. But the system knows us now. Or maybe it’s just scared.
Doors part before us in a whisper of pressure seals. The air inside the wormhole chamber is thick—like walking into a storm that hasn't broken yet. Humming. Charged. My skin prickles with it. Static clings to my shoulders, tugging at the tips of my horns.
Nova’s already moving, boots hitting the deck with practiced rhythm. “System logs show the override was triggered forty minutes ago,” she says, fingers dancing across a holo-console. “The failsafe's live, but not firing. Something’s suppressing it.”
“I’d bet a shipful of fuel that something’s got Stark’s fingerprint all over it.”
I cross the deck to the central command ring, passing through light columns flickering with data. The whole grid is twitchy—glitching in waves. Like the wormhole system’s trying to speak in a language no one’s taught it.
Then Verzius appears. Out of nowhere, as usual.
Except this time, he’s in full combat attire—scales lacquered in deep violet armor, plasma blade strapped to his thigh, hair swept back in a perfect, warlike braid. His cloak flares behind him like something out of an epic, and his expression is pure Vakutan steel.
“I figured you’d need a dramatic entrance,” he says, voice dry.
“You’re late,” I shoot back.
“I was picking out boots.”
Nova doesn't even blink. “You’re with us?”
He nods. “Of course. Someone’s gotta keep you two from dying stupidly.”
She doesn’t argue. None of us do.
The main console flares. A siren bleeds through the wall panels—low and pulsing, like the heartbeat of a dying star.
“Gate’s stabilizing,” Nova says. “But not naturally. It’s holding position at a quantum harmonic point. That shouldn't be possible without—”
“Manual control,” I finish, stepping beside her.
My gaze locks onto the failsafe schematic rotating in midair. It’s like looking into the guts of a god—nested rings, fractal patterns, algorithms that feel almost alive.
Then I see it.
At the center of the command string, embedded like a thorn in a vein, is a lock.
Not just any lock.
A biometric signature.
Nova zooms in, hands trembling. “It’s coded to you.”
I stare at the display. The pulse reading. The genetic key. Everything Stark embedded into that failsafe leads to one thing: me.
“That son of a bitch.”
Verzius frowns. “Why would he tie it to you?”
“Because he knew I’d come back,” I mutter. “He knew I’d be the only one dumb enough to try and shut it down manually.”
Nova’s eyes flick to mine. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying this whole thing’s a trap. A setup. Stark’s backup plan was to force a pilot into the singularity with the override.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I am.” I point to the data readout. “He built a firewall only my bio-sig can bypass. From inside the gate. It’s the only way to cancel the cascade.”
Nova shakes her head. “That’s suicide.”
“Maybe.”
“No. Kaz—”
“Look at me,” I say.
She does.
And gods, it nearly unravels me.
Because her eyes—those furious, beautiful green eyes—are wet now. And her lips tremble like she’s holding back everything she wants to scream.
I reach for her.
Pull her in.
And kiss her like I’m stealing time from fate.
It’s not soft. It’s not sweet.
It’s desperate. Messy. Real.
Because this might be the last thing I ever get to feel.
When I pull back, her forehead stays against mine, our breaths tangling.
“I’m coming back,” I whisper. “I have to.”
She shakes her head again, small and aching. “You don’t know what’s in there.”
“I don’t care. My son’s waiting. You’re waiting. That’s all that matters.”
Verzius clears his throat. “Hate to interrupt the melodrama, but we’re running out of minutes.”
Nova presses something into my palm—a small crystal drive, glowing faintly blue. “This is the counter-sequence. If you can reach the core, plug it in. It’ll stabilize the collapse.”
I nod.
Then I’m moving.
Strapping into the launch rig.
The preflight routine feels like muscle memory now. The ship hums under my fingers. Sleek, responsive. Hungry.
The gate pulses ahead—massive and shimmering with barely-contained power, its edges warping the air, light bending in ways it shouldn’t. It doesn’t look like a machine anymore.
It looks like a wound.
And I’m diving straight into it.
Kaz to Control. Lining up for insertion.
Nova’s voice crackles through the comms. “Don’t be a hero.”
I smirk. “Never. I’m a legend, remember?”
Verzius grunts. “Just don’t get vaporized, golden boy.”
The launch rail clicks.
The wormhole roars.
And I fly.