Chapter 14
KYLDAK
Ican’t think. I can’t stop looking at her.
Every nerve I’ve got is a live wire, every heartbeat a hammer strike. She’s here. In my camp. In my world. Sitting across from me like she didn’t just crawl out of a ghost story and set fire to everything I’ve built.
The air feels too thick. Too loud. I can hear every sound — the low thrum of the generators outside, the hiss of the sandstorm dying beyond the wall, the creak of her chair when she shifts just to put more distance between us.
She won’t look at me.
Fine. I look enough for both of us.
Her hair’s shorter. Burned at the ends. Her hands are bandaged — badly, the way you do when you’ve been patching yourself up on the run. There’s a bruise under her jaw, another dark one at her wrist. I see the tremor in her fingers when she thinks I’m not watching.
She’s exhausted. Filthy. Furious.
Still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
And I hate it. I hate her for it. But I hate me more.
I’ve faced death in half a dozen forms, and none of them looked at me the way she does — like she’s both measuring and mourning me in the same breath.
I drag a hand down my face, exhale through my teeth, and shove the plate of ration cubes toward her. “Eat.”
She doesn’t even glance up. “Not hungry.”
“You haven’t eaten since the crash.”
“Then I’m getting good at fasting.”
I clench my jaw. “You’ll eat.”
She finally looks at me. “You gonna force-feed me too, Red Eye?” The nickname drips sarcasm, like venom sweetened by memory. “What’s next — branding? Shackles? Or do you save that for the locals?”
Her words hit harder than any blade. I remind myself she doesn’t know this world. She doesn’t know what I’ve done to survive it.
Still, the fire in her voice, the way she bites through fear with spite — I remember that. I missed that.
“Jaela,” I start.
“Don’t,” she snaps. “Don’t say my name like we’re still something.”
I grip the edge of the table until the metal bends. The sound makes her flinch, just barely.
“Something?” I echo. “We were something. You don’t crawl into a man’s bed every night for three months and then call it nothing.”
She rises from the chair, trembling with exhaustion and fury. “We were stupid,” she says. “We were temporary. You knew that.”
I laugh — low, bitter. “No. I didn’t know that. You made damn sure I didn’t.”
Her lip trembles, but she bites it before it turns into something weaker. “You think I came here for this? For you?”
“Then why?” I growl. “Why risk your life to fly into this hellhole? What, the Alliance send you? You here to finish the job? To watch the monster you built finally eat his own bones?”
Her eyes flash. “Don’t you dare make this about your martyr complex.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
She looks at me like I’m already gone. Like she’s trying to build courage out of broken glass. “I need your help,” she says finally. Quiet. Flat. “I can’t tell you why.”
I stare at her. And everything in me goes still.
“That’s not how this works,” I say.
“It’s the only way it can work,” she fires back.
“You expect me to trust that? After everything?”
“I’m not asking you to trust me,” she says. “I’m asking you not to let me die.”
I take a step forward. She takes one back. The space between us crackles.
“Who sent you?” I demand.
“No one.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not!” She slams her fist into the table. “Stars, Kyldak, do you really think anyone would send me here? I barely got out of orbit alive!”
“Then why—”
“Because I had no choice!”
Her voice cracks on the last word. She turns away before I can read her face. “You don’t get to ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”
My throat burns. My chest feels too small. “You think I’m scared of answers?”
She doesn’t look at me. “I think you’re scared of what you still feel.”
I grab my warcoat off the rack and throw it at her. It lands on her lap — heavy, still warm from my skin.
“Put it on,” I mutter.
She glares at me. “No.”
“It’s cold.”
“I said no.”
I point at the flap of the tent. “You step outside without protection and you’ll freeze to death.”
“Then I guess that’s one less thing for you to worry about.”
“Jaela—”
She throws it at my head.
I catch it mid-air, jaw tight, nostrils flaring. The room goes silent again — just our breathing and the faint whine of the camp generators.
I walk toward her, slow. Every step deliberate. I stop close enough that the air between us hums. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t move.
“You’re going to tell me what you want from me,” I say quietly. “Or I’ll find out myself.”
“You always were good at taking things that weren’t offered,” she whispers.
I lean down, voice scraping like gravel. “You always offered.”
Her eyes flash wide — pain and fury and something hotter flickering underneath. I pull back before I do something we’ll both regret.
“Fine,” I say, tone hard again. “Stay here. You’re under guard. You try to run, I’ll bring you back myself.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she mutters.
I ignore the sting, turn on my heel, and stalk out before I lose what little control I’ve got left.
Night falls fast on Jurtik. Always does. I don’t sleep.
I sit by the fire in my quarters, the flames painting shadows across the steel walls. I can hear her through the thin partition — pacing, muttering, the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.
When I finally go to check, she’s asleep.
She didn’t even make it to the bed. Curled up in my armor chair, still in her torn clothes, one hand tucked under her cheek. There’s grease on her face, a split in her lip, and a tiny scar under her chin that wasn’t there before.
Something tightens in my chest. I reach out — stop myself halfway. My fingers hover an inch from her hair. I shouldn’t. I can’t.
Then she murmurs something in her sleep.
One word.
Soft. Fragile.
“Kel…”
My hand freezes.
Kel?
Who the hell is Kel?
I pull back, slower this time, my mind turning over like a faulty engine.
The Alliance. A mission. Secrets. A name I don’t recognize.
I step outside before I break something.
The night air bites at my skin. The stars above are the same as the ones I used to stare at when I thought I’d never see her again. They look different now — colder, sharper.
I breathe her name once, quiet enough that no one hears.
“Jaela…”
Then I make a promise to the dark.
“I’ll find out what you’re hiding.”
By sunrise, I’ve got blood on my boots and murder in my veins.
The camp’s on edge. Word spreads fast around here—Jaela, the Earthborn ghost, is real and walking, and the Slag Rider chief’s head still hangs from my gate like a damn wind chime.
That should be enough to quiet the dogs.
It ain’t.
By mid-morning, two of my engine crews are nose to nose over some scavenged weapon cores—old Alliance tech, rare as breath in the Scar.
One of the bastards, Gorrik, starts throwing accusations.
Claims Riven stole half his salvage, lied about kill counts, threatened one of his girls in the south barracks.
I don’t tolerate threats.
Especially not toward her.
I roll in with dust still clinging to my coat and the red of last night’s storm still in my hair.
Riven’s already sneering by the time I step into the circle of men.
“She ain’t even your property,” he spits, blade half-drawn. “You fuck her once and suddenly we all gotta bow to your pet ghost?”
Wrong thing to say.
Real wrong.
I don’t talk.
I move.
My blade’s at his throat before he can blink.
“You got a choice,” I say, voice quiet, calm. “Fight me clean in the pit, or I gut you dirty in the dirt.”
Riven smiles, crooked teeth stained with synth blood. “I ain’t afraid of Red Eye.”
I step back.
“Good.”
The arena is packed by noon.
Steel bleachers line the edge of the fighting pit—an old reactor basin turned battleground, ringed with torches and old bones. The crowd chants low, rhythmic, stomping metal boots on scrap flooring.
“Red Eye. Red Eye. Red Eye.”
I strip to the waist.
The cold wind cuts across my skin, carrying the smell of rust and sweat and blood. My scars itch. My muscles twitch. The heat inside me builds, uncoiling from spine to fists.
Across from me, Riven paces like a caged predator, glistening with engine grease and bravado. He’s younger. Faster.
I’m meaner.
“Ready?” I growl.
The bell clangs.
He charges.
It’s not a clean fight. Not even close.
We trade blows like thunderclaps, skin on skin, bone on bone. He cuts me above the eye early, gets a cheap knee in under my ribs. I let him think he’s winning.
Then I twist his arm backward, dislocate it with a snap, and slam him into the floor hard enough the stone cracks.
He tries to crawl.
I pin him with a boot, blood dripping from my brow.
“You threaten what’s mine,” I snarl, “you lose everything.”
Then I walk away.
Crowd roars. Fists pound the walls. My name echoes louder than the storm winds outside.
I barely hear them.
Because she’s here.
Jaela pushes through the crowd like a hurricane in boots—hair wild, face flushed, eyes sharp as broken glass.
“What the hell was that?” she yells over the noise.
“I handled it.”
“You fought a man over me?”
“He threatened you.”
“I didn’t ask for a champion, Kyldak!”
“You didn’t have to.”
She plants both hands on my chest, pushing hard. Blood smears on her fingers.
“You’re bleeding.”
I grab her wrists. “I’ve bled worse.”
She yanks free. “That’s not the damn point.”
“You’re in my world now. This is how I keep order.”
“You mean by cracking skulls and swinging your dick around like it’s law?”
The crowd falls to silence.
My head tilts. “If you’re jealous, you can always ride it.”
Gasps. Laughter. Someone whistles.
She slaps me.
Hard.
My head whips to the side, blood from my brow splattering the sand.
I grab her.
She doesn’t fight.
She launches herself into me like a missile, mouth crashing into mine with teeth and fire and fury. I kiss her back like it’s war, like it’s forgiveness, like it’s the last goddamn thing keeping me alive.
She moans.
I growl.
The crowd explodes.
I lift her off her feet, her legs wrapping around my waist, and carry her out of the pit like I’m claiming a throne.
No one stops me.
No one dares.
The door slams behind us like thunder.
I catch her shoulder, pin her to the wall, heat searing through me. My mouth drags down her throat, tongue tasting her pulse, my claws grazing the sweat-slick curve of her back.
She gasps, nails digging into me. “This isn’t smart.”
“Never was,” I rasp, voice raw, “Never cared.”
She shoves me—just enough—so I can tear at my belt. She stares me down, defiance bleeding through fear. “Don’t pretend this means anything.”
I grunt. “I wouldn’t dare.” With a surge I lift her, carry her to the bed like she weighs nothing—like her body was always meant for mine.
We fall into the mattress together, sheets crumpling, hearts racing. Gravity doesn’t need time to catch up.
The first time is rough. Violent. My arms and chest press, pin her. My mouth claims hers harsh and hungry. I taste her — copper, salt, need. Her cry breaks through me. I thrust, harder, punishing, wanting to obliterate every barrier between us.
Her back arches, nails clawing into me, trying to anchor.
Then I pause, my breaths ragged. I meet her gaze, search for something tender under the fire.
We don’t stop there.
The second time is slower. Deeper. Every move measured though still urgent. I guide her, hold her, listen to her moans. Her name is the only word I know how to speak.
Jaela.
I slide in again, inch by inch, letting her feel me, holding nothing back. Her body folds around my cock, warm and tight and needy.
The rhythm builds. We merge skin to scale, bone to bone. My missing limbs ache with presence. Every thrust pushes me into her, and she into me.
“Kyldak…” she whispers.
“Yes,” I growl, “All of you.”
I hit deeper, sliding fluid, stamping each thrust with need. Her moans echo off the walls, her breath hot against my neck.
When she comes, it’s a blaze. She cries out, muscles clenching, pussy pulling me in, milking me. I roar, releasing inside her, filling her.
After, she curls into me, silent. Her breathing is ragged, heart pounding against mine.
I press my lips to her temple.
“Liar.”
She doesn’t deny it this time.
I hold her closer, letting the silence speak.