Chapter 25
ELLA
Vomit’s still warm—“You can’t just puke in the back!” Dad bellows. The cab’s windows are steamed; engine hums in protest.
I’m up to my elbows in coolant paste, kneeling beside a hover-chassis, trying to reseal a microfracture in the plasma conduit.
Vex sits nearby on a pallet of tools, teething on a modified hydrospanner—metal taste of machine and sharp edges in his gums. He drools a little, but his eyes are bright.
He doesn’t wail. Never does. I glance at him every few seconds, making sure he’s still flesh, still human.
The city hums all around me—hover-taxi exhaust, distant alarms, chatter from market stalls, the sweet tang of heat and ozone mixing in the midday glare.
Then I feel it.
A pulse behind me. Subtle, like a tremor under the soles of my feet. A presence. Heavy. Watching.
I freeze. My hands stiffen. Heart starts drumming. The smell of hot metal and coolant suddenly tastes like warning.
I twist around.
And there he is.
Takhiss—alive. Whole. Towering above the bustle. His armor’s gone, replaced with a light travel vest that still shows the ridges of scale beneath. His posture is rigid, motion packed. His eyes—hellfire red, bright, unblinking—lock onto mine.
Three feet between us.
I want to stumble, to fall into his arms. I want to scream his name so loud it shreds the air. I want to kiss him until the world stops. Instead:
I stand too still. I swallow. My voice catches. “You’re… alive,” I manage.
He just stares, muscles tight, nostrils flaring. The marketplace noise fades from my ears like someone turned off a dial.
“I—why are you here?” I force the words out, though every fiber of me aches.
He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Looks down. Sees Vex in my arms.
Something in him fractures.
His jaw locks. His eyes widen like a shutter catching light. The weapon I almost thought he might draw dissolves in his posture. A shock of stillness ripples.
“Ella,” he breathes. And the air cracks.
Vex squirms, reaching for Takhiss’s hand. I tighten my grip, heart pounding so loud I hear it in my teeth. The world around us warps—people gawking, carts frozen, motors mid-whine.
No one breathes.
He lifts a hand carefully, like he’s reaching for glass. “Your son,” he says softly. “He’s real.”
I nod, tears forming behind my lids. “Yes.” My voice is smaller than I am.
Vex’s fingers stretch, wiggling. He hiccups. The spell breaks.
Someone coughs. A vendor yells. Markets roar back.
Takhiss blinks at us. His arm goes slack. He takes a half step back, then forward, then stops again. I don’t know what he is—warrior, father, shadow. His face trembles.
He whispers, “I—I would’ve died to see you safe.”
My throat closes. I taste sweat, oil, hope. I blink it back. “You came for us.”
He nods once. So slow it’s like an earthquake.
“Dad!” I shout before I can stop it.
Dad rounds the row of cabs, wiping grease off his arms. When he sees Takhiss, he freezes. Then he squares his shoulders, steps forward.
“Who’s this?” he demands, voice low and dangerous.
Takhiss doesn’t flinch. He straightens, lowers his eyes respectfully but not submissively. “Dennis Corleone,” he says. “I—I am Takhiss. Father to your grandson.”
Dad’s face contorts—rage, disbelief, grief, all mixing into one harsh expression. Vex lets out a soft coo, reaches between us.
Dad’s fists clench. “Get your hands off my daughter.”
Takhiss flinches inward but doesn’t step away. “I came back to be with her. With him.”
Dad’s eyes flick to Vex, then at me, then back to Takhiss. He looks like he’s made of years and fights.
I step forward. “Dad, don’t.”
Dad snarls something. Takhiss steps closer. I see his fingers flex. A million years of war in one motion. But he stops: he holds himself in.
“Let me stay,” he says. Quiet. Breaking. “Let me protect them.”
Dad’s chest heaves. I see his mind racing — threats, honor, pain. The marketplace noise roars again. The scent of smog and street food is thick.
Takhiss turns his head to me, voice low: “My life is yours. If you’ll have me.”
Tears spill. I walk toward him, arms trembling, and reach. My fingers brush his cheek. He closes his eyes.
The market stalls crash back into reality. A vendor curses. Vex cries out.
But in that moment—amid rust, sweat, heat, and blood—we are something else. Something alive, something real.
Dad stands between us, fists clenched like stone. He doesn’t step back. He doesn’t step forward. He just... watches.
Takhiss and I, two halves that never quite fit—meet under the weight of silence.
And I swallow, heart pounding: He’s here.