I narrow my eyes. “Bron Verak.”
“Yes?”
“If you’re planning something reckless out there, I would like advance warning.”
He throws his head back with a warm laugh that briefly restores the familiar sound of him.
“Tilda, everything I do is reckless.”
“That was not reassuring.”
“Life rarely is.”
Despite the humor in his voice, the tension in his body does not entirely disappear. His hand lifts and hooks gently beneath my chin, tilting my face upward so that I meet his gaze.
“Trust me,” he says quietly.
The words settle into my chest with unexpected weight. Trust is still a fragile thing between us, something we have been rebuilding piece by piece through bruising honesty and shared survival. When he says it now, there is a steadiness in his tone that makes it difficult to argue even while my instincts whisper that something remains unsaid.
Before I can press the matter further, a booming voice rolls down the corridor.
“Finalists! Arena briefing begins immediately!”
Bron releases my chin and straightens, the moment dissolving into motion as contestants begin filing toward the briefing chamber. He flashes me an easy smile that does not quite reach his eyes.
“Well,” he says. “That sounds like our cue.”
The briefing chamber resembles the command center of a military campaign that has been redesigned by someone whoadores dramatic spectacle. Vast holographic displays stretch across the walls, rotating three-dimensional projections of the arena outside while streams of data flicker along the edges of the screens. The remaining contestants gather across the floor in small clusters, their conversations muted beneath the steady pulse of anticipation that fills the room.
Only five couples remain.
Bron stands close beside me, his arm resting casually across my shoulders as though we are attending a gala rather than preparing to risk our lives in front of a galaxy-wide audience.
At the front of the chamber Captain Photonic stands like a monument to theatrical enthusiasm. His gleaming armor reflects the holographic light while his dramatic cape ripples behind him with exaggerated flourish.
“Champions!” he declares with booming delight. “Today we reach the culmination of the Galactic Extreme Challenge!”
The crowd of finalists quiets.
The central holo display brightens, revealing a sweeping aerial view of the arena that sprawls beyond the compound walls. The scale of the structure never fails to astonish me. Massive terrain modules stretch across kilometers of reinforced ground, forming a labyrinth of platforms, trenches, mechanical barriers, and towering obstacles designed to test both endurance and strategy.
“Your final challenge,” Photonic continues grandly, “will test every skill you have developed throughout this competition.”
The projection zooms inward as markers appear across the terrain.
“Phase one will require contestants to traverse the outer modules while avoiding environmental hazards and automated obstacles.”
Images flash across the display: rotating bridges, collapsing platforms, swinging mechanical arms that could easily hurl a contestant into the dirt.
Bron leans close enough for his breath to brush my ear. “This feels suspiciously like our honeymoon itinerary.”
“Focus,” I mutter.
The holographic map shifts again, drawing attention to the central portion of the arena.
“Phase two,” Photonic announces, “will move competitors into the inner arena.”
A massive reinforced enclosure appears on the projection.
