Chapter 69 Bright
brIGHT
Bright’s boots pounded the corridor floor, the harsh overhead lights strobing over his vision like warning sirens.
Come on, come on…just a little farther. Please don’t let us run into that damned Cookie…
The winding passage toward the shuttle bay felt like it stretched for miles.
Every turn felt like a trap. His nerves were razor-wire tight, ready to snap.
Beside him, Noelle was still half-dressed, pale and swaying slightly as she clutched the torn dress around her curvy frame.
Burn’s jaw was clenched in that terrifying way that meant he was barely holding back his Rage.
One wrong move, and the Trollox chef could blow the whole plan, Bright thought. He watches everything…knows everything. Please—just this once—let the bastard have the night off.
They rounded the final curve. The sealed arch to the shuttle bay loomed ahead—carved in sleek purple and gold, gilded with curling script. The symbol of the Trollox Cruelty Cartel shone faintly in the sterile light above the doors.
Bright breathed a sigh of relief—there were no guards, no alien chef…no sign of anyone at all.
Thank the Goddess!
They slipped through without challenge. Bright felt sweat bead on the back of his neck as the doors closed behind them with a quiet hiss.
The shuttle sat waiting for them in the center of the bay—sleek and rounded, a glossy egg-shaped vessel painted in lustrous purple with gold trim curling around the nosecone like ornamental vines. The sight of it sent a wave of relief crashing over him.
We made it.
But even as his heart lifted, another weight pressed down hard behind his ribs.
It’s not over yet. We still have to get out of here.
They scrambled aboard, Burn swiping the silver key through the console scanner. A flash of green acknowledged the command and the door slid open with a hiss.
The interior was plush and opulent—too much so for a standard shuttle.
It smelled of stale perfume and expensive lubricant.
The couches were wide and low, upholstered in shimmering gold leather that stuck to bare skin.
The control panel was dotted with oversized, gemlike buttons—each glowing softly in unnatural hues.
It was all too clean…too clinical. And yet somehow still filthy.
Bright helped Noelle climb into one of the cushioned passenger seats. Her knees wobbled as she sank down, and her face looked ghost-pale beneath the overhead lighting.
She shouldn’t have had to do any of this. Neither should Burn. But we didn’t have a choice. Thune made damned sure of that.
Bright fumbled for the harness straps and clicked them into place across her chest and hips. She sighed and leaned her head back, eyes fluttering closed.
He stroked her arm once—gently. She was already half-asleep—the effects of the pink drink taking their toll. Bright could feel it working on him as well…as soon as the adrenaline wore off, he was going to be damn-near unconscious. Still, he lingered a moment watching Noelle rest.
She deserves peace. She deserves better than us.
“Time to get the fuck out of here.” Burn dropped into the pilot seat with a grunt, tapping at the glowing controls, but Bright could see the tension in his broad shoulders. He was still wound tight. Still coiled with guilt and fury.
Bright settled beside Noelle, but his eyes stayed on his friend. Brother, really. They’d grown as close as friends could get without the Bond actually forming. And now…
Now everything between us has changed.
They hadn’t spoken of it yet—of what Thune had forced them to do.
But it lingered between them—every glance…every breath. Bright could still taste his best friend’s seed on the back of his tongue.
They would never be the same.
I’m sorry, Burn. I never wanted it to happen. I would have stopped it if I could.
And yet, his trousers were still tight, even as regret swamped him.
The pink drink—whatever it was—was hitting him hard.
His shaft ached, painfully stiff and throbbing behind the fabric of his trousers.
It felt wrong to be aroused. Violent and violating and utterly out of place—and yet his body wasn’t giving him a choice.
Gods…it’s like my skin is too tight and my blood is too hot.
But the worst part was the dragging exhaustion waiting just beneath the surface—like he was running toward a cliff and about to fall off the edge.
“Need to move,” he muttered, swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat. “We’re running out of time.”
“I know,” Burn growled. His fingers were flying over the controls, but his motions were jerky…sluggish.
“Let me help—what can I do?” Bright asked.
“Nothing,” Burn grunted. He didn’t look up.
Then, as if reminded of something unpleasant, he stabbed one thick finger at a large glowing red button in the center of the console.
“But whatever you do—don’t touch the red button.”
Bright blinked.
“Why—what is it?”
“Home…button,” Burn slurred. “For when the driver’s drunk. You presh—I mean, press it—and it brings the ship right back here.” He shook his head violently, as though trying to clear it. “Fuck. That pink shtuff is getting to me.”
“Me too,” Bright admitted, fisting his hands against his thighs.
The heat was building. So was the fatigue.
He could feel it dragging at the edges of his consciousness—an invisible weight pressing down on his limbs.
Noelle was already fully out, her breathing slow and soft. Her head lolled gently against the padded cushion, her hair tumbling over her shoulders.
We need to get her to safety. We have to call the Mother Ship to fold space. Now.
“Quick—call the Mother Ship,” Bright urged. “We need to fold before we all pass out.”
“Doing my fucking best,” Burn grunted, brow furrowed as he toggled controls.
The shuttle trembled under them.
A soft whine built beneath the floor panels—a vibration that ran through Bright’s bones like a warning signal.
Slowly—agonizingly slowly—the vessel lifted from the docking bay floor.
Bright leaned forward, staring out the curved front viewscreen. The city spread out below them like a bad memory—Thune’s opulent palace rising in the center, lit in soft pinks and violets, garish and obscene.
As they rose higher, the atmosphere thinned, and stars bled into view beyond the horizon. The outer curve of the planet peeled away behind them like rotten fruit.
And still, Bright could feel his body shutting down.
So close. Just a little farther. Just a little more…
His vision swam. His head drooped forward once, then jerked back up.
He looked to Noelle. Her fingers twitched faintly in her lap, her body limp with exhaustion.
Goddess, please let us make it. Just let us make it back. Let this all be over.
Then darkness crept in at the edges of his vision, dimming the stars, pulling him under and Bright knew no more.