Chapter 46
TAKHISS
The Aces High hurtles backward through the wreckage of the hangar, its engines screaming over the roar of collapsing hull and ruptured conduits. Behind us, the Flame of Ataxia fractures, metal plates peeling away in shockwaves of fire and light.
The explosion blinds me. A white flash so fierce I swear I see my own bones in silhouette. The blast wave slams into us—every bolt rattles, panels groan, alarms wail.
But we’re clear.
For a moment, time doesn’t move. The engines hum. The skeleton of burnt metal drifts past our viewports. The smell of ozone, burnt circuit resin, and pure, raw adrenaline fills the cockpit. I taste blood in my mouth—mine.
Vex is asleep in my arms, exhausted. His head lolled sideways, mouth slightly open, a thin trickle of drool glistening on my chestplate. He’s so small, so tender, unaware of the chaos we just escaped.
Clint slumps into the pilot’s seat, hair disheveled, breathing ragged. He looks at me, nods once. No words needed.
Kalow curls up beside Nefarious in one corner of the bridge. Honeybear is already ransacking the emergency rations.
I draw a breath and shift slightly so I can look at Ella. She is still on the med-bunk, pale under the harsh light, but awake. She squeezes my hand. Her lips quiver.
I lean forward, pressing my forehead to hers. The tremors of the ship hum in our bones.
“Thank the gods,” I murmur—so low only she hears.
She gives me a weak smile. “I thought… I thought I wouldn’t see your face again.”
I swallow. “You will. We all will.”
We drift in space. No star marker in sight.
“We’re off-trajectory from Flame’s blast,” Clint says, his voice rough. “No one’s likely to follow. For now. But we need a destination. Somewhere remote. Somewhere off the map.”
Ella looks up at me. “Anywhere. Just away from their reach.”
I nod. “Anywhere with you and Vex. That’s home now.”
I adjust my grip on our son.
Takhiss, Ella, Vex—together. A fragile family cobbled out of blood and war.
And as we drift into the black, leaving behind the ruins of Ataxia’s ambition, I vow something to the cold void:
We’ll plant our roots again. Somewhere the war can't find us.
Because we are alive. We are together.
And for now, that is triumph enough.