“He loves you,” Selik said quietly. She looked up to find him watching them with an expression of such tenderness that her breath caught.
“I love him too. More than I ever thought possible.” She returned to her seat, keeping Mikoz cradled against her. “When his mother asked me to care for him, I promised I would keep himsafe. But somewhere along the way, it became more than just a promise. He became mine.”
“And he will remain yours. No Council decree or bureaucratic regulation will change that.”
She believed him. Whatever happened next, whatever challenges they faced on Tillich Two, they would face them together as a family. The Council could come looking all they wanted. They’d never find them.
Or if they did, they’d find a family so tightly bonded that nothing could tear them apart.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Selik pulled up the navigation display and studied the route he’d plotted for the third time in as many hours. The direct path to Tillich Two would take four days at maximum speed, but direct paths left trails. Predictable trails.
He deleted the route and started again.
First jump point: Theta Corridor, a busy commercial route with enough traffic to mask one small flyer. Second jump: the Veresh Belt, where asteroid mining operations created sensor interference. Third: a loop back through the Kessian Expanse before the final approach to Tillich Two.
Six days instead of four. Two additional jump gates meant two additional chances for someone to spot them, but it also meant anyone tracking them would lose the trail in the confusion of intersecting trade routes and mining traffic.
If there is anyone tracking us.
The thought gnawed at him. Tarak would do his best to maintain the illusion that Selik remained aboard the Patrol ship, but illusions only held for so long. Eventually, someone woulddemand a face-to-face meeting or question why Commander dar’Tacharan hadn’t filed his usual reports. Eventually, the truth would emerge.
The real question was whether the leak had already reached the Council. Whether they knew about Mikoz and were already dispatching ships to intercept.
Behind him, Corinne hummed softly as she settled Mikoz down for sleep. The sound eased some of the tension coiled in his chest. His mate. His son. His daughter, because Anya had become that as well. They were safe for now, and he would do whatever necessary to keep them that way.
“You’re worrying again.” Corinne’s hands settled on his shoulders, her fingers finding the knots of tension with unerring accuracy.
“I am planning. There is a difference.”
“Mmm.” She worked at a particularly tight spot and he couldn’t suppress a low rumble of pleasure. “You’ve checked that route seventeen times. At some point, planning becomes worrying.”
“Seventeen?”
“I’ve been counting.” Her hands moved to his neck, applying steady pressure that made his eyes want to close. “Talk to me. What’s bothering you?”
Everything. Nothing. The weight of responsibility and the fear of failure and the persistent voice in his head that insisted he didn’t deserve this happiness.
“The Council has resources I cannot match,” he said finally. “If they decide to pursue us, they will find us eventually.”
“But not immediately. And not easily, if you keep plotting these elaborate routes.” She leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “We’ll be careful. We’ll stay alert. And if they do find us, we’ll deal with it together.”
Her confidence steadied him. She’d survived abduction and captivity with her spirit intact, had protected both Anya and Mikoz through circumstances that would have broken most people. If she believed they could build a life on Tillich Two, then perhaps they could.
“You are right.” He caught one of her hands and brought it to his lips. “I will stop checking the route compulsively.”
“At least until I fall asleep?”
“At least until then.”
She laughed and moved to her seat, curling up with a book she’d borrowed from the ship’s small library. He forced himself to look away from the navigation display and focus instead on the sensor readings. No ships within range. No unusual energy signatures. Just empty space and distant stars and the steady hum of the flyer’s engines.
Mikoz woke an hour later with his usual demands for attention. Selik watched as Corinne lifted him from the improvised nest of blankets, checking his diaper and offering him a bottle. The infant latched on eagerly, his black eyes tracking movement around the small cabin.
“He’s definitely more alert,” Anya observed from her seat. “Yesterday he watched me for like ten minutes while I was reading. Just stared at me like he was trying to figure out what the book said.”
“Cire children develop quickly.” He remembered his daughter at that age, how she’d gone from helpless infant to walking in what seemed like mere weeks. The memory no longer brought crippling pain—Corinne and the children had given him permission to remember without drowning in grief. “Look at how quickly he started walking.”
