His jaw tightened. “Fine. We’ve been... close. It was a small ship and a long journey.”
“Close.”
“Do you want a detailed description? I didn’t think that was your preference.”
A rumbling laugh escaped. “I think I know you well enough after all these fucking years to recognize when you’re deflecting. You’ve never brought a female here before. Or a child, for that matter.”
“I didn’t have many options. The Grorn?—”
“—are a convenient excuse.” Athtar cut him off. “You could have dropped them on any number of worlds and continued on your own. Hells, you could have sold the baby to the highest bidder and retired wealthy. That’s what the Doren I met fifteen years ago would have done.”
The worst part was that Athtar wasn’t entirely wrong. After the desperate poverty of his childhood, Doren had been driven by only two things—finding the key to the Vault and accumulating wealth. The second objective had led to his ill-advised attempt to take over Athtar’s ship when he’d been part of the crew. The fact that they’d somehow overcome that was something of a miracle.
“People change,” he said quietly.
“That they do.” Athtar put down his knife and studied him for a long moment. “So what’s your plan? Find the Vault, claim untold riches, and then what? Ride off into the fucking sunset alone while your female and the baby wave goodbye?”
“She’s not my female.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Athtar reached for the bottle of spirits on the shelf next to the stove and poured two generous glasses. “I’ve known you since you were argued your way on tomy crew with nothing but a fucking attitude. I’ve watched you charm your way out of fucking prison cells and into treasure vaults. I’ve seen you bluff Kaisarian commanders and seduce information out of sources who should have known better. But I’ve never—never—seen you look at anyone the way you look at that female.”
He took the offered glass and drank deeply, letting the burn of alcohol give him something to focus on besides Athtar’s too-accurate observations. “It doesn’t matter how I look at her.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not...” He trailed off, unsure how to articulate the tangled knot of feelings in his chest. “I’m not built for the kind of life she wants. Settled. Domestic. Whatever you want to call it.”
“You think I was?” Athtar snorted. “When I found Faith, I thought the only thing that mattered was my ship and my freedom.”
“What changed?”
“I realized that freedom meant being free to choose her.” Athtar swirled his drink, staring into its amber depths. “Not a ship or a lifestyle, but her.”
“Sounds romantic.”
“It was terrifying,” Athtar said softly. “Letting someone in like that. Trusting them with the broken parts of you. But it was also the best fucking decision I ever made.” He looked up, meeting Doren’s eyes. “I have three children now. A home. A mate who knows exactly what kind of fucking monster I am and loves me anyway. Do you think I’d trade that for all the treasure in the Vault?”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
“You’ve been chasing that damn Vault since before I met you,” Athtar continued. “What is it you actually want from it? The wealth? The knowledge?”
“It’s not about what’s inside.” The words came out before he could stop them, dredged up from somewhere deep and raw. “It’s about proving... proving that I’m worth something. That my father was wrong about me. That I’m not just a bastard’s mistake.”
Silence stretched between them. Athtar’s expression shifted into something that might have been pity, or might have been understanding.
“Your father was a cold-hearted bastard who didn’t fucking deserve your mother, let alone you,” Athtar said finally. “And spending your life trying to prove something to a dead male who never appreciated what he had is a fucking waste of a good life.” He drained his glass and turned back to the stove. “But you already know that. The question is whether you’re fucking brave enough to do something about it. Now get out of here while I finish dinner.”
He nodded and walked out onto the terrace with the Precursor disk, running his thumb over the etched symbols. Such a small thing to carry so much weight. This artifact, combined with Ari’s apparent ability to activate Precursor technology, represented everything he’d spent his adult life chasing. Accessing the Vault felt closer than it had ever been.
But Athtar’s words echoed in his mind.What do you actually want from it?
He’d told himself for years that the Vault was the goal. The end point. The thing that would finally silence the voice in his head that whispered he wasn’t good enough, that he would never be good enough. But standing here on the terrace, surrounded by the evidence of his friend’s unexpected domestic happiness, he found himself questioning assumptions he’d carried for decades.
What do I actually want?
The image that appeared in his mind was not the Vault, but Emma’s face as she’d looked at him that morning, sleep-soft and smiling. Ari’s tiny hand wrapped around his finger. The warmth of having somewhere to belong.
Dangerous thoughts,he told himself.Foolish thoughts.
