Chapter 7 Bella
BELLA
Iwake up to the sound of steel being chewed alive.
Crack. Scrape. Crack.
When I crack an eye open, Kage’s sitting against a bent support beam, dragging a shard of metal slow and steady down his claws. Sparks jump with every stroke, sharp teeth singing against rust. The sound rattles through the hollow station like a promise.
I sit up cross-legged, ration pack balanced in my lap. The plastifoil tears with a wet rip, smell of stale protein paste puffing out. It tastes like sawdust and wet cardboard, but hunger doesn’t give me room to care. I shovel a bite into my mouth, chewing as loud as I can just to break the silence.
He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t speak. Just keeps working that metal against his claws, muscles shifting under scales with each precise motion.
And my body—the traitor—watches. The stretch of his shoulders when he rolls them back. The way his chest rises and falls with each controlled breath.
I curse under my breath and cram another mouthful down. My body doesn’t care that he’s the enemy, doesn’t care that he could snap me in half without thinking. Doesn’t care that I should hate him.
“Could you maybe not make that sound like nails on a chalkboard?” I mutter, finally.
His head tilts, but he doesn’t stop. “You eat like an animal. We all have flaws.”
I choke on my bite, glaring. “Excuse me?”
“You tear. Chew. Snarl at your food. Like a beast.” His silver-shot eyes flicker toward me, quick and sharp. “Loud.”
“Wow,” I say, smirking around the chalky paste. “Coming from the seven-foot walking woodchipper, that means a lot. Thanks.”
For a second, his mouth twitches, like he almost smirked. But then the silence comes back, heavier than before—not fear this time. Something else. Anticipation, maybe. Like both of us are waiting for something we don’t want to name.
I dig for distraction. “So. The squad.”
His claws pause mid-stroke.
“What squad?” he rumbles.
“The one we were sent to find,” I press. “The reason I’m here in the first place. You know something.”
The silence that follows is brutal. Thick enough I taste it on my tongue, like smoke.
He says it. Two words, low as thunder. “They’re gone.”
My stomach drops. I don’t need him to explain. I’ve seen the blood on the walls. Heard the crunch in the dark. Felt the shadows breathing against the back of my neck.
It was him.
I stare down at my ration pack, fingers clenched so hard the plastifoil crumples. I should scream. Should spit in his face again. Should call him a monster.
Instead, I take a slow breath and say, “They were assholes. Most of them.”
His head jerks, eyes narrowing. Like he’s waiting for the accusation, the condemnation. It doesn’t come.
“I’m not saying they deserved it,” I add, voice rough. “But I’m not crying over them either.”
He studies me, unreadable. For once, I don’t fill the silence with another jab. I just sit there, letting it be.
Then the words tumble out before I can stop them. “Jamie. Who was she?”
His whole body shifts, like I struck something deep. The shard of metal drops to the floor with a clatter.
“She was…” He exhales, voice lower, raw. “She ran the spice stall beside my family’s deli. Human. Middle-aged. Laughed like breaking glass. She brought my parents bread when the shelves emptied. She gave me food when I went hungry, even though she had little herself. She… was kind.”
The picture he paints is so vivid it cracks something jagged inside me. I see the market stalls, smell the spices, feel the warmth of a life he actually loved. And I can’t square it with the monster who tore through an Alliance squad like tissue.
Maybe monsters can mourn.
Monsters can love.
By afternoon, the sky darkens too fast, clouds roiling thick with poison ash. The wind shifts, whipping grit so sharp it stings my eyes.
“Storm,” Kage growls.
We duck under the twisted husk of a hovertruck, rust flakes raining down as we squeeze into the cramped shelter. The wind howls outside, static from busted comms whining in my ears like a swarm of angry bees. Visibility drops to nothing, the world outside gone white with choking ash.
Inside, it’s just us.
I shift, trying to make room. My thigh brushes his. His body locks up instantly, rigid as steel. So does mine.
The air goes electric, hot and sharp, buzzing against my skin. Our breathing syncs without meaning to—shallow, fast, too loud in the small space.
I don’t move away. Neither does he.
Hazard lights blink somewhere under the truck, painting everything in a pulsing red glow. His scales catch it, turning the silver patterns molten. His eyes catch it too, molten mercury staring straight into me.
We don’t kiss.
But gods, it feels closer than that. More dangerous.
Every heartbeat thunders in my chest like artillery. My lips part, breath hitching. His claws flex against the dirt, like he’s fighting the same war I am.
And for one suspended moment, I forget he’s my captor. Forget the squad. Forget the ropes.
It’s just him. And me. And a line between us that’s burning away.