Resh nods. He peels off without a word, the enforcers falling in behind him. Their footsteps fade fast. Miro closes Percy’s display. The green light dies. She slips her hand into mine. Cold fingers. Steady grip.
Together we move toward the maintenance bay. Somewhere ahead, metal groans. A hatch opens, then falls silent again. My brother believes he’s slipping beyond our reach.
He doesn’t know he’s already trapped.
Chapter Nineteen
ZAVIN
The maintenance tunnel narrows ahead, conduit bundles crowding low enough that I have to duck under one. My ribs pull with every stride, Father’s blade still raw. Miro moves behind me, her breathing controlled, her steps matching mine.
She favours her arm — the one my father’s dead enforcer dared to touch. If I hadn’t already killed him, I’d make sure his death was slow and agonizing. But she’s still on her feet. Still moving despite everything done to her. I see how strong she is. How resilient she’s always been.
The moment she’s behind a locked door in my quarters, I’m bringing a healer to help her whether she argues or not. I don’t care if she tells me she’s fine. I’ll look after her the way she has always deserved.
I keep my pace measured, my body between her and every junction we pass. She shouldn’t be down here. She survived Sethrak’s guards, survived my brother’s games, survived a House that treated her like currency, and still she chose to walk this tunnel instead of waiting somewhere safe. Anger climbs through my veins at the thought of everything Kazren and Father put her through. I bank it. Rage gets males killed when they let it lead. Kazren doesn’t get to touch heragain, not tonight, not ever, and the only way I guarantee that is by staying sharp enough to end this cleanly.
We ease around the final bend into the bay. Stacked cargo containers rise on both sides, throwing deep shadow across the maintenance walkway. I flatten my back against the nearest wall and put out an arm, easing Miro into the same cover, tucking her into the shadow beside me before I lean out to scan the dark. My breathing stays even, controlled, each inhale slow enough that it won’t carry. Beside me, Miro matches it, holding herself just as still, just as quiet.
I scan the gaps and catch a deeper shadow shifting near the back wall. Kazren. He’s wedged into the narrow space behind the farthest crate, one hand pressed flat against the rusted metal. He slowly peers around the edge of the crate, a cargo craft with an open gangplank in his sights.
I ease back behind the wall and send Resh a single line through my wrist comm, trusting him to walk the males into position without a word needing to pass between us. When I lean out again, they’ve already fanned along the walls, boxing in every gap that might have let him run.
There is nowhere left for my brother to go.
Movement flickers near the ramp as Kazren breaks from the shadow of the nearest crate in a dead sprint for the gangplank.
My enforcers are already converging. Two of them peel off to cut the angle before he covers half the distance. He sees them and skids to a stop, chest heaving. He spins, spotting the males surrounding him.
I step into the open. “There’s nowhere left to go, brother.”
His head snaps toward my voice, and for one unguarded second his eyes find Miro behind me. Surprise flickers across his face, come and gone in a flash. Then his expression shutters closed, the surprise folding itself away behind something colder. Contemptsettles into the line of his mouth as the weight of it lands. Surrounded. Outnumbered. Beaten by the one female he never thought worth fearing.
“Zavin.” He rolls his shoulders. “Good to see you brought your pet.”
I shift in front of my female, blocking his view of her. “Every exit’s sealed. There’s nowhere to run.”
He glances past the enforcers surrounding him and back to me, eyes sparking. He shrugs. “One of us was always going to do it. I just got there first. It’s how our father raised us.”
“Kill or be killed.” I know his saying well. It was drilled into my skull often enough.
“He knew we’d try. It’s the world we live in. What he raised us to do,” Kazren says. “He didn’t think either of us would succeed.”
“You used my female.” My claws release, digging into my palms.
“I didn’t think you had it in you to fall in love. That was Father’s second saying,” Kazren says. “You were stupid enough not to listen to him on both accounts.”
I hear Miro’s breath catch. Detect the slight warming in her scent. So does Kazren. His eyes shift over my shoulder, his tongue darting out to catch her pheromones. A growl rattles from my chest, echoing into the darkness.
“So you do love her,” Kazren smirks. “You were always stupid. Love makes you weak. Makes you exploitable.”
The word lands with Father’s voice riding underneath it, the same lesson beaten into both of us before either of us could walk a corridor unsupervised. Weak. I’ve heard it a thousand times in a thousand rooms, always aimed at the same target. Anything that isn’t useful. Anything that isn’t a weapon.
I look at what weakness has bought him. Cornered in a maintenance bay, every exit sealed, every play already exhausted.
And I know exactly what loving her has cost me. Nothing I regret. “You should be terrified of what love makes me capable of.”
Doubt flickers behind Kazren’s eyes, quick, gone before he smooths it away.
