#suspence

You asked Homelander and Ashley if Noir had been assigned to another mission because you were getting frustrated that he had not texted you back for days and had suddenly vanished. You were relieved when they informed you he had a lot on his plate, but you were also annoyed because it wasn't like him to ignore you or return your texts. One of his great virtues was that he would always text you back, even when you believed he was going to rip a head off during those missions.

Though you knew he couldn't talk which was a big obstacle for a healthy conversation, you moved his house months after you started dating without a second thought. You weren't in the slightest disturbed by that. Since actions speak louder than words, it was actually preferable if men said nothing at all. And Noir certainly knew how to express his affection for you.

You giggled uncontrollably at the memory of his adorable actions toward you. Even though he appeared tough and ruthless when wearing that black suit, he was always warm and affectionate with you. He was regarded by the world as one of the most formidable, vicious, and dangerous supe alive, yet you were aware of his extreme thoughtfulness and sensitivity, particularly with regard to his relationship with you.

No matter how much you wanted to see him, you didn't push him, even if he didn't take off his mask or suit at all while you were around. You knew he was extremely sensitive about how he looked and everything. When he finally trusted you enough to show himself to you, you knew he would eventually open himself up. 

You made the decision to dress elegantly and boldly for his gaze when he eventually texted you back to say he would be home tonight. You knew he liked you in short, lace-covered satin gowns. It had been nearly two weeks since he returned home, and you were aware that he missed you just as much as you did. 

It was when he eventually came home, after you had been waiting for him for hours with your dress on and messaging him nonstop, that you understood how much you liked him. You couldn't help but think about him and grin to yourself at all of your adorable times together when he acted a little goofy and awkward.

As he slowly made his way inside the home, you said, “Hey,” and gave him a quick hug. "Welcome home."

Noir offered you a strong hug in return and nodded as if he wanted to say the same thing. You then landed a firm kiss through his mask and said, “I've missed you too.”

As Homelander and Vought cautioned him not to talk, especially when you were around, Black Noir tried his hardest to remain silent. It was told to him that you were Noir's partner, and since Vought already had too much on its plate these days, it would be best if you didn't realize he wasn't the real Noir. He didn't mind you acting like your adorable, naive lover since he had seen your pictures and the way you texted him as though you were in heat, making it obvious that you wanted to be fucked till you were unable to walk.

As a result, he would enjoy the ride as well, providing for your needs in the manner that was expected of him. When they showed your picture, he didn't really care about Vought and all that, but now he thought it would be fun because you seemed so eager to please him with that slutty, lovely fucking dress. 

You said, “How went?” as if he could respond, but it didn't feel strange for you to remain silent. If one of you stayed quiet the entire time, it would be odd.

Noir kept himself from talking and instead studied your body and outfit with fascination, which made you chuckle. As though you could see him, he turned out the lamp, and you didn't object, supposing it was just one of his insecure times. 

You sat on his lap and softly touched his covered face before responding with a whispered “Why the hell you didn't text me back for days?” in an attempt to sound like a mad woman. “You didn't behave like that before, you know.” 

Under his mask, Noir gave you a mischievous smile as his hands boldly stroked your body, growing harder every second as he saw your nipples peek from your thin dress, giving the impression that you wanted a quick and brutal fuck. 'Who would have thought that mission would be so hot and delightful?' he thought as his gloved hand squeezed your hips until you nearly moaned with pain. He was touching your pussy firmly and passionately, making it wet. 

You removed the stupid plastic item covering his cock with your hands and began slowly grinding against his clothed shaft while moaning, “You're such a turn-on today? Did you really miss fucking me that much?”

Noir gulped down, and as you kept continuing to moan and gasp loudly, one of his hands tightly pinched your tits. “Did you miss filling me with your hot seed into my pussy? When you finally texted me back today, I fingered myself while thinking about your huge cock.”

The filth flowing from your lips made him extremely hard, and once he filled up your dress, he gave your ass a hard spank. 

You groaned in protest when he abruptly lifted you off his lap. He forced you to your knees before you could say anything, gripping your hair firmly as he struggled to get his cock out of his suit. He stretched his legs and drew your head toward himself while you were kneeling in front of him on the edge of the bed. You were taken aback by his sudden harshness and passion because you had never sucked him off before. Maybe the fact that you hadn't fucked in weeks was the reason he was feeling so kinky this evening.

Excitement filled your body as you waited for him to finally reveal his cock. Before you could even say anything, he pushed your head against his cock, forcing you to suck him. 

Noir made a determined attempt to stop himself from giving you orders to properly suck him off and wet his dick as your tongue quickly lapped the tip of his shaft. As you gave him a head, he grabbed one of your hands and put it on his cock, urging you to use your hands. 

“You're so thick, you know, it's hard to take it all,” you remarked as you placed your hands on his balls and sucked the sensitive head of his thick cock. “You taste so good.”

Noir let out a soft and low chuckle as you did your best to satisfy him and make him cum. You were such a good cocksucker it was disappointing he couldn't give you any compliments. He smiled thinking about how would your boyfriend respond seeing you sucking a stranger’s cock so eagerly.

When you swallowed his head, he moaned angrily, as you were only able to take half of his cock. He took hold of your hair and began giving you hard pushes until your nose touched his pubic hair. 

When he began to fuck your face, you attempted to pull away as his hands applied heavy pressure to your head until the tip of his cock touched your throat and tears streamed down your cheeks. He was always extremely particular about being clean and well-groomed, so when you saw he didn't shave, you were somewhat taken aback. He made you take up every inch of his hardness, pushed your head into his balls, and waited till you tapped his legs in an attempt to regain your breath. 

After he finally released your head a bit, you muttered, “You're extremely rough tonight.”

Even though he was harsh, you were so attracted to his behavior that you began to suck him the way he preferred, taking his entire shaft and rubbing his balls, wetting them with your saliva.

You pushed yourself to get him to cum in your mouth as soon as you sensed him getting closer.

You teased him, “Where do you want to cum?” as you continued to stroke his throbbing erection.

Noir slowly withdrew his cock from your lips, stilled your head, and began to fuck into your mouth, pressing the tip of his cock on your tongue so you could taste its salty essence. He was savoring the facial expressions you made and your sensual groans, and he growled with pleasure as he thought he was fucking real Black Noir's girlfriend's mouth and he was about to fuck his girlfriend's pussy. 

He removed his cock from your mouth and stroked your lips and cheeks with his cock while holding it as if he were fucking your face. After some time, he stopped wanting to cum in your mouth or on your face. 

When you attempted to put him in your mouth again, he growled in disapproval and threw you into the bed while trying to help you get up. With a swift and forceful motion that left you gasping in dismay, he forced your face against the mattress and tore off your underwear quickly. 

Although you weren't prepared for him to behave in this manner, you waited for him to lead you in the direction he wanted since you were eager to please him and you were already turned on by him. 

Noir stretched your legs apart and checked the intensity of the wetness by sticking two fingers inside your pussy. He groaned in satisfaction as he saw that you had already gotten wet, and he removed his meaty fingers with ease. 

You let out a loud cry and pushed him to move more quickly as he roughed you with his fingers. You let out a cry of pleasure as soon as you began to clench around his fingers. Once your climax subsided, he pulled you more into the sheets, thinking that this would be the time when he would finally turn you back and act a little more romantically. You let him have his fun, figuring he wanted to play hard this evening. 

Noir played with your clit from behind, taking his throbbing manhood into his fingers and giving himself short, rapid strokes. Upon realizing that you were anticipating his fuck with your legs apart, he gasped with delight. 

Breathless, you gasped as he began to press his shaft into your wetness. His gloved hands gripped your hips firmly as he began a quick and violent fuck. His big balls were slamming into your clit, producing obscene noises that filled the room. 

You were gasping out and raising your hips to meet his strong thrusts as Noir's hardness throbbed into your pussy. He pounded into you with powerful strokes, gripping your hair and pulling it while you clutched the sheets beneath your fingers under his instense fuck. 

You whined, “Fuck, you are so good,” your eyes welling up with tears due to the intensity of the moment. “Fuck me harder.” 

Under the mask, Noir grinned at your filthy actions and the way you urged a total stranger to give you more fucking, like a whore. He began fucking you from behind even more forcefully after pulling off your hair. You were screaming like a bitch in heat, and you had no idea that you were fucking a stranger. He thought you were a free chick for him to enjoy himself to the fullest. He would count himself fortunate.

Sensing his approaching closeness, he moved slightly and reached your sweet spot, giving you multiple orgasms before spilling inside of you. Your legs trembled wildly as you clamped around his cock after he found your sensitive spot and gave you an aggressive fuck there. Your pussy felt so sensitive that you tapped his legs to get him to slow down, but instead he fucked you even harder and struck the same area repeatedly, leaving you speechless. 

“Fuck, Noir,” was the only thing you could say. “It feels sensitive.” 

But instead of slowing down, he continued to fuck you through your climax until he made you cum on his cock once more. Your legs were shaking, and you were screaming his name in between endless orgasms. He was forcing himself not to laugh out loud while you kept orgasming under a stranger.

He pushed all of his length into your pussy and began spilling himself into you as he continued to fuck you after he decided you had come on his cock enough. You again clenched around his cock as his thick white ropes filled your insides. When he felt your pussy continued to clench around his shaft with eagerness, and he moaned with satisfaction. It seemed to him that you were a needy one, and he would be thrilled to give what you needed.

Your legs continued to shake as you felt his thick seed leaking out of your pussy, and you grinned and bit your lip, satisfied. You felt a deep sense of satisfaction, and you had no idea that you could get so many orgasms so quickly. Noir did give you a hard fuck during certain times, but that was the first time he used such force on you and ignored your boundaries, of which you were glad. You felt that he ought to have revealed more of his personality sooner. 

Noir met your tongue, palmed your pussy from behind, and put his weight on your back. He pulled his mask halfway to give you a firm kiss, you realized.

You gasped in horror as his lips found your ear, and he whispered into the darkness, “Not bad, darling.”

The coring room was too quiet, not empty, but tense, like a held breath. The silence pressed in on Soobin as the storm shutters began to move, metal dragging against metal with a long, aching groan that echoed through the chamber. Dust shook loose from the rafters and drifted through the air as a narrow blade of alien sunlight cut its way inside, spilling across the cracked concrete floor.

It was enough light to show him he wasn’t alone.

Soobin froze. The smell hit him all at once, metallic and sour, threaded with something organic and wrong, like rot left too long in the heat. His gaze lifted to the ceiling, and his stomach turned. The rafters were thick with nests, swollen and fibrous, bound together by sinewy strands that stretched and clung like muscle. They weren’t dormant. They rose and fell in a slow, uneven rhythm, pulsing faintly, as if whatever was inside them was breathing.

A soft clicking followed. Claws brushing metal. Deliberate. Close.

Soobin didn’t move. His pulse thundered in his ears as the sound multiplied, skittering along the beams above him, spreading through the dark. The thin strip of daylight behind him, the gap he had slipped through, was suddenly all he could think about. He forced his legs to move, boots scraping loudly against the floor as he broke into a run, arms stretching for the light.

Something shifted overhead.

He looked up just as the light caught the inside of one of the nests. The fibers gleamed wetly, translucent and alive, writhing beneath the surface. The seam split with a sharp crack, tearing open like rotten fruit, and the swarm poured out. Bodies tangled over one another, too many legs, too many claws, too many mouths. The sound that followed wasn’t just noise. It was a shrill, layered shriek that slammed into him, rattling his bones and clawing at his thoughts.

Soobin staggered, breath locking in his chest, but it was already too late. The swarm had seen him, and it was hungry.

The scream ripped through the thick, humid air, raw and desperate, sharp enough to feel like it cut straight through flesh and bone. Namjoon’s head snapped up, his body going rigid as the sound swallowed everything else.

The murmured conversations died in his ears. The scrape of movement, the uneven hum of failing generators, all of it fell away until there was nothing but that scream, echoing and unfinished.

“Soobin.”

The name didn’t leave his mouth so much as slip out on a breath, heavy with dread, and his body reacted before his mind could catch up.

He was already running, boots slamming into the dirt, lungs burning as his heart pounded hard enough to hurt. He didn’t hear the others shout after him or feel the chaos breaking loose behind him. He barely registered the fear clawing up his spine, because some part of him already knew.

He knew before the coring room even came into view.

The nests didn’t burst all at once. They failed in sequence, splitting open with wet, tearing sounds that echoed through the chamber, each rupture worse than the last. The noise was intimate and wrong, like fruit rotting from the inside out, skins giving way under pressure until their contents spilled free. The air filled with it, thick, organic, alive.

A shrill scraping tore through the air, high and jagged, like metal dragged across stone. The nests split wider, and shapes spilled from them, sleek bodies unfolding as they dropped, wings snapping open midair. Their shells caught the light in brief, oily flashes, black and reflective, never still long enough to properly see. The wings beat hard and fast, churning the air into a low, vibrating hum that sank into Soobin’s chest, rattling his ribs until thought gave way to instinct.

Claws flashed as they moved, long and curved, slicing through the dust-heavy air. The chamber seemed to shrink around them, darkness pulsing with motion as the swarm spread, filling every open space. Wings, talons, screeches, layered and relentless, left no room for silence, no space to breathe.

Soobin’s breath caught hard in his throat. Panic hit him all at once, heavy and crushing. His eyes darted for the light, for the narrow slice of daylight that had been his escape, but it was gone, lost beneath bodies and wings, swallowed by the sheer mass of movement. There was no way back. No pause to think.

The swarm surged downward.

Wings tore past his face. Claws scraped the floor where he’d been standing a heartbeat earlier. He stumbled, boots slipping, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. Run. The word was all that existed. He turned blindly, searching for anything that wasn’t teeth and wings.

Pain ripped across his side as something clipped him, sharp and burning, like a blade dragged too close. He gasped, the sensation flaring white-hot, but he didn’t slow. The only thing that mattered was that he was still upright, still moving.

A door appeared to his left. Storage. He didn’t question it. He lunged, shoulder slamming into the metal, forcing it open with a burst of desperate strength. The swarm shrieked behind him as he hurled himself through the doorway and slammed it shut.

He collapsed against the shelves inside, the impact knocking the air from his lungs as dust billowed up around him. Outside, claws raked across the door in frantic bursts, metal screaming under the assault. Each strike sent a jolt through his spine, the sound too close, too loud, too final.

Hands shaking, he fumbled for the bolt. His fingers slipped, slick with blood, before he managed to ram it into place. The lock caught with a dull, rusted clunk that echoed through the cramped room like a sentence passed.

The noise outside didn’t disappear. It retreated, just far enough to wait.

Soobin sagged where he stood, breath tearing in and out of his chest. Blood seeped between his fingers as he pressed them harder to his side, warmth spreading beneath his palm. The wound burned, sharp and alive, and the thought crept in uninvited, venom, infection, something worse, but he shoved it away. There was no space for that yet.

He forced himself to focus, blinking until the room steadied. Darkness pooled between the shelves. The air was stale, heavy with neglect. Old boxes slumped where they’d been left. Broken tools lay scattered across the floor, shards of glass crunching softly under his boots.

His eyes swept the clutter, frantic now, searching for anything he could use. Anything at all that might give him a chance.

Because he knew this quiet wasn’t safety. It was borrowed time.

The silence stretched, thick and deliberate, pressing in as if the room itself were holding its breath. Soobin slid down the shelving until he was crouched low, his back against cold metal, ears straining. His pulse thundered in his head, each beat loud enough that he was sure it would give him away.

Something shifted outside.

Not the chaos from before. This was slower. Intentional.

A single claw scraped along the door.

Soobin froze.

The sound was almost gentle, a light, exploratory drag that raised goosebumps along his arms. Another followed, then another, nails tracing the seams of the metal as if memorizing them. Learning. Soft chirrs filtered through the door, high-pitched and curious, threading into the room and straight into his nerves.

The bolt rattled once.

He threw his weight into the door, both hands braced against it, shoulder jammed tight as if his body alone could keep it closed. The metal bucked under the first impact, then shuddered again, harder this time. Dust rained down from the ceiling in pale streams, coating his hair, clinging to his lashes, sticking to his tongue until he could taste it with every breath.

The first puncture came out of nowhere.

A claw punched straight through the door just above the handle, tearing the metal open with a shriek that made his ears ring. Soobin cried out and stumbled back as the talon withdrew, leaving a jagged hole rimmed with curled steel. A blade of light cut through the opening, catching the dust still spinning in the air.

More claws drove through the door in rapid succession, metal ripping and folding inward as the creatures tore at it from the other side. The room filled with the sound of shredding steel and high, frantic screeches that set his teeth on edge. He backed away until his spine hit the shelves, breath coming apart in his chest, panic wiping out everything except the need to move.

The door gave in all at once.

It peeled inward like rotted bark, collapsing under their combined weight, and the swarm poured through the opening in a writhing mass. Wings snapped open, bodies slammed into one another as they spilled into the storage room, and the space shrank instantly, corners swallowed by movement and noise.

Soobin screamed and ran.

He vaulted over a crate, glass exploding beneath his boots, pain flaring white-hot along his side as the wound tore wider. One of them struck him mid-stride, hitting his back hard enough to send him face-first into the shelves. Something cracked, bone or metal, he couldn’t tell, and agony ripped through his shoulder.

He scrambled, nails scraping uselessly against the concrete as claws hooked into his jacket. Fabric tore. Skin followed.

They were on him.

Talons sank into his arms and legs, pinning him as wings battered around his head, the noise deafening and disorienting. He thrashed, striking blindly, his hands sliding over slick carapaces that felt wrong, too smooth, too cold. A beak snapped inches from his face, its hot breath reeking of rot.

Pain swallowed everything else.

Claws raked across his chest, splitting skin open in brutal lines. Another buried itself in his thigh and twisted, and his scream tore free, raw and broken. His feet kicked uselessly as he felt himself lifted, dragged back toward the swarm, the floor slipping away beneath him.

Something bit deep into his side and pulled.

He felt the tearing before the pain fully landed, an awful stretching sensation, like his body was coming apart along seams that had never existed. Heat flooded through him, soaking his clothes, pooling beneath him as his strength drained away.

The world narrowed.

Sound dulled into a distant roar. Wings and screeches blurred together as his vision flickered, catching fractured flashes of black shells, shining claws, teeth darkened with blood. His fingers slipped from the floor, curling weakly as another violent yank wrenched him completely off the ground.

They pulled in opposite directions.

The pressure was unbearable, joints screaming, muscles tearing, skin splitting under the strain. For one terrifyingly clear moment, his mind caught up just enough to understand what was happening, to know he was being taken apart piece by piece.

Then something gave.

Pain spiked sharp and absolute, before breaking apart into nothing at all. His scream cut off mid-breath, swallowed by the swarm as they finished their work with quick, merciless efficiency.

When the noise finally faded, the storage room lay still.

There was no movement left. Only blood, splashed across the floor, streaked along the shelves, smeared across the ruined door, slowly dripping back into silence, while the creatures withdrew, leaving nothing behind that could still be called Soobin.

They ran hard through the settlement, boots pounding cracked earth, dust billowing up around their legs as panic drove them forward. Breath tore in and out of their lungs, shallow and ragged, every step pushing bodies already stretched too thin. The heat pressed down without mercy, the twin suns glaring overhead as if they were watching the flight with detached interest. Shouts tangled with the scrape of boots and the clatter of loose gear, the sound of it all rising into something frantic and ugly.

Jungkook did not join them. He remained by the water goblets, one hand resting on the rim as he tipped the last cloudy mouthful back and swallowed it in a single motion. His gaze flicked up, tracking the chaos with a stillness that felt wrong in the middle of it all. He looked less like a man caught off guard and more like a hunter watching prey scatter, alert, calm, already calculating.

The supply room door gave way with a shriek of tortured metal, ripped from its frame hard enough to make the walls shudder. Namjoon surged forward without thinking, shoving past Lee, his heart slamming against his ribs as dread tightened its grip. His skin had gone pale, his movements sharp and frantic, like his body already knew what his mind was refusing to accept.

“Soobin?”

The name slipped out of him, barely a sound, half prayer and half plea.

Something rustled inside the room. Soft. Wrong.

Namjoon pulled the door open with shaking hands, the metal scraping as it gave way. What waited on the other side was not an answer so much as a living horror. The chamber seemed to convulse as fibrous, cocooned shapes split apart, tearing open with wet, rupturing sounds. Pale, winged creatures spilled out in a rushing tide, bodies slick and glinting as they caught the light in brief, oily flashes. Their wings beat hard and fast, whipping the dust into a trembling haze, while talons cut through the air with ruthless precision. The screeching that followed drowned everything else out, high, piercing, invasive, a sound that burrowed beneath the skin and stayed there.

Namjoon staggered back, choking on dust and fear, and that was when something dropped at his feet.

It hit the floor with a dull, final sound. Blood-soaked. Torn apart. Wrong.

Once, it had been Soobin.

The world seemed to hollow out around him. Namjoon froze, breath ripped from his lungs as his eyes took in the broken shape on the floor. Limbs lay twisted at angles no body should bend, flesh split open to expose bone. Soobin’s eyes, brown, familiar, always earnest, stared upward without focus or life. It did not look like he had been attacked so much as emptied, as if something had lived inside him and discarded what remained.

A broken sound tore from Namjoon’s chest as he dropped to his knees. His hands shook violently when he reached out, fingertips brushing skin already cooling. Just hours ago, Soobin had been beside them. He had prayed. He had laughed. He had been alive. Now he was reduced to pieces scattered across concrete.

Soobin Kang was fourteen years old. And he would never be anything else.

Behind him, Lee and Y/N approached more slowly, drawn forward by the awful stillness left in the swarm’s wake. Their gazes followed the carnage, then drifted past it, down into the open coring shaft. The walls were packed with bones, layer upon layer, stripped clean and stacked together. A graveyard hidden beneath their feet, waiting quietly all this time.

Under the pale blue light of the rising sun, the Chrislams gathered, murmuring prayers in low, reverent voices. Peter and Leo stood among them with heads bowed, the usual sharp humor gone, replaced by something fragile and solemn.

At the edge of the settlement, Jungkook stood apart from the rest, his back turned, his attention fixed on the horizon. He looked like a man waiting, for a signal, a sound, or something only he expected to arrive.

Bindi broke the silence first.

“Why the hell was that door chained?” she demanded, fists clenched, her voice cracking with fury. “Why would they lock themselves in like that?”

Lee scrubbed a hand over his jaw, his expression dark and unreadable. “Don’t know,” he said shortly, though something tight and angry edged his voice. “But I’ll tell you this, the Chrislams better not be out there digging another grave.”

Jungkook spoke before the words could settle, his voice cutting through the tension clean and sharp.

“It wasn’t about graves.”

Every head turned.

He leaned against the doorframe now, posture loose, almost casual, but there was something different in him, something sharpened, alert. His silvered eyes caught the dim light as he stepped forward, gaze moving slowly over the group.

“The other buildings weren’t secure,” he said evenly. “So they ran here. Heaviest doors they had. Thought they’d be safe inside.” His eyes shifted toward the coring shaft, toward the bones packed into its depths, and he gestured with a small, deliberate flick of his wrist. “Problem is, someone forgot about the back door.”

Bindi followed his gaze, and her breath caught as the truth finally settled in. There was nothing left to interpret, nothing left to soften. The evidence lay bare in bone and dust. Whatever lives had once filled this place had been reduced to what could not rot away.

Her voice came out low, almost swallowed by the room, thick with grief and something sharper beneath it. “So that’s what came of me, Deku,” she said. “And you saw it. You were right there.”

Jungkook gave a small nod. It was precise and deliberate. He did not look away from her or flinch under the weight of what she was saying. His face gave nothing back.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides, trembling now, anger pushing its way through the grief. When she spoke again, the words struck harder. “You were trying to kill him too.”

He did not deny it or defend himself. He only shrugged, slow and measured, as if her anger were just another variable to consider.

“Wanted his O-2,” he said plainly.

The words hung there, stark and unapologetic. No regret. No attempt to soften the truth.

After a moment, he added, almost offhand, “Though he tried to ghost me first.”

A faint smirk tugged at his mouth, sharp and unrepentant.

Bindi’s expression faltered, just for a breath. Because she knew he was not lying. Soobin had been pulling away all day, slipping out of sight, trying to handle something alone. He had gone into that room without telling anyone. Jungkook had not forced him there. None of them had.

The silence stretched, tight as a wire drawn too far.

Without saying a word, Bindi reached up and pulled off her breather. She held it out to him.

“Take it.”

Jungkook studied her hand, his eyes narrowing slightly. “It broken?”

She shook her head. “I’m starting to acclimate. Enough, anyhow.” Her voice had lost its edge now, worn smooth by exhaustion and loss. “Take it.”

For a long moment he hesitated, gaze flicking between her face and the breather. Then he took it, pressing it to his mouth and nose. He drew in a slow breath, shoulders lifting as the oxygen filled his lungs.

Across the room, Lee watched with his arms crossed tight, jaw set. He did not say anything, but the disapproval was written all over him. No one acknowledged it.

Y/N had not noticed any of it at first. Her fingers drifted along the counter, brushing the cold glass of the coring samples lined up in neat rows. Each cylinder held a thin slice of the planet’s history, dates etched into their sides. She read them absently, her thoughts elsewhere.

Sixty years ago.

Her fingers stilled on the last sample. Something clicked into place.

“Sixty years,” she murmured.

Lee’s head snapped toward her. “What?”

She drew a breath, grounding herself. “This one,” she said, tapping the glass. “It’s dated sixty years ago. Same month.”

Bindi frowned. “And?”

Y/N did not answer right away. Her eyes stayed on the sample as pieces began to align in her head. The skiff. The way it had felt wrong the moment she touched it. Older than it should have been. The materials. The design.

Copper wiring.

Her stomach turned.

Hades. M6-117.

The planet had once been flagged as a prime candidate for terraforming. With time and the right infrastructure, it could have supported a permanent settlement. But the scientists had detected the eclipse cycle just in time. They had warned NOSA to hold off, to wait. Because no one ever really knew what emerged after prolonged darkness. Early scans suggested something lived beneath the surface.

All twenty-four people stationed here died during those three days.

The bioraptors had not even had a name yet when it happened. That came later, after the footage was recovered, grainy recordings of shadows moving through pitch-black corridors, flashes of serrated teeth, screams echoing through empty structures. One press conference followed. One. Then NOSA buried the incident, sealed the files, and moved on. Humanity’s expansion could not afford hesitation. Fear was inconvenient. Colonization continued.

And now they were standing in the aftermath.

Y/N had learned about Hades early in her years with Nexus. Jimin had mentioned it once during a debrief, a grim aside folded into an otherwise routine history lesson. Most people let it pass like that, just another failed mission in a long list of them, but she had not. She had gone digging afterward, chasing fragments through redacted files and quiet rumors. The colony had been ambitious, built on the belief that even a planet this hostile could be bent into something livable. Terraforming should have worked. On paper, it had made sense. But the mission collapsed in on itself, fast and brutal. The few ships that escaped carried only pieces of the truth. Everyone else, colonists, engineers, scientists, vanished into the planet and were never recovered. What remained of the story was buried under bureaucracy and deliberate silence. It was easier that way. Safer.

She remembered.

And now, sixty years later, she was standing in the shadow of the same mistake.

Her hands clenched at her sides as the realization settled fully in her chest. The eclipse. This planet did not follow a normal cycle; it never had. When the light went, it did not come back quickly. Darkness would stretch on for three full days. Long enough for anything waiting beneath the surface to rise.

The bioraptors did not wait for dawn. They never had. As soon as the last sliver of light disappeared, they would move, swarming, hunting, stripping everything living down to bone.

Her breath hitched as the implications stacked up in her mind, each one worse than the last. She turned toward the others, her voice low, almost lost in the space between them.

“The planet,” she said, swallowing. “It goes dark.”

The silence that followed felt absolute, like a blade dropping. No one spoke. The air thickened, heavy with understanding.

Lee was the first to react. His head snapped toward her, disbelief and anger colliding in his eyes. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Bindi sucked in a sharp breath, her face draining of color as the meaning caught up to her. She did not need the full explanation. She could feel it in her bones.

Namjoon’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He was built for action, for movement and decisions, but even he knew some situations did not leave room for clean solutions.

Peter stood unnaturally still, the usual humor wiped clean from his expression. Whatever jokes he might have made were gone, replaced by a sober, unsettling focus.

Jungkook, leaning back against the wall, tilted his head slightly. His silver eyes caught the light, glinting with something unreadable. A faint smile touched his mouth, sharp at the edges, not playful at all.

“You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”

The settlement buzzed with a nervous kind of motion, the sort that crept under the skin and refused to settle. People moved fast through the yard, voices raised, hands busy, every action edged with urgency. No one lingered. No one stopped. Whatever was coming felt close enough to be breathing down their necks.

Y/N cut across the open ground with long, purposeful strides, boots kicking up dust as her thoughts raced ahead of her mouth. She muttered as she walked, half-plans tumbling out in a low stream. “Need the cells from the crash ship. Still gotta check the hull, patch the wings, shit.”

Lee stepped into her path without warning. He did not raise his voice. He did not need to. “Let’s hold on the power cells,” he said, calm and firm, already braced for the reaction he knew was coming.

She stopped short, disbelief flashing across her face. “Hold on them for what?” she shot back. “Until it’s so dark we can’t even find our way back?”

“We don’t know when the eclipse hits,” Lee said, cutting in before she could build momentum. “So we don’t—”

“Get the fucking cells over here, Lee,” she snapped, frustration bleeding through every word. “What are we even talking about?”

For a moment, he just looked at her. His expression barely changed, but something in his eyes sharpened, like he had decided on a different approach. “Ever tell you how Jungkook escaped?” he asked.

The anger drained out of her so fast it left confusion in its wake. She frowned. “No,” she said slowly. “Why?”

“Do you want to know?”

She hesitated, rubbing her hands against her thighs as unease settled in. “Depends,” she muttered. “Is this relevant, or are you stalling me?”

Lee turned away instead of answering, already heading toward the skiff. “Come on,” he said over his shoulder. “It’s not a quick story.”

Inside the skiff, the air was thick and stale, systems humming unevenly as they fought to stay alive. Y/N leaned back against the bulkhead, arms folded tight, while Lee paced in front of her, hands clasped behind his back. When he spoke, his voice had gone quieter, more deliberate, like he was reciting something he had learned by heart and wished he had not.

“Jungkook started at Ribald S,” he said. “Correctional institute. High walls, razor wire, guards who shoot first and don’t bother asking questions. He lasted less than three years. Overpowered a guard, stole his uniform, killed two more, plus the pilot of the only freighter on the planet. By the time anyone realized what was happening, he was gone. Left bodies behind like markers.”

Y/N shifted, but stayed silent.

“They put a million-credit bounty on him,” Lee continued. “Every merc, bounty hunter, and idiot with a blaster went after him. None of them came back. They called him a serial killer. A sociopath. Psych evals said he was irredeemable. Violence wrapped in skin.” His jaw tightened. “I agreed.”

He stopped pacing and leaned closer, the weight of the story pressing in. “And Ribald wasn’t the only one. Hubble Bay. Tangiers. Q9. He broke out of all of them. Guards, medics, inmates, anyone who got in his way didn’t walk out. During a war, he joined a merc unit. Five hundred men went in. One came out. Him. Word was he killed half his own unit to survive.”

Her stomach twisted.

“And Slam City,” Lee went on. “Ursa Luna Penal Facility. Maximum security. They brought him in frozen. Woke him up just long enough to prove he was alive. He killed one escort, took the other’s gear, bribed his way through the place, and escaped in under twelve hours. Everyone he crossed died.”

Y/N swallowed. “No one ever stopped him?”

“Oh, they tried,” Lee said, bitterness creeping into his voice. “Every time they caught him, he slipped through. Butcher Bay. Dark Athena. Stabbed me once, nearly killed me. Slaughtered crews, drones, civilians. There was a kid once. Raye. Supposedly he helped her. Don’t know why. Doesn’t change the body count.”

She hesitated before asking, “You said he can fly?”

Lee met her eyes. “He can do more than that. He hijacks ships, steals freighters, outflies trained squads like it’s nothing. Ex-military. Ranger, Sigma 3. Put him in a cockpit and he’ll turn the ship into a weapon before you can react.”

The words sat between them, heavy and unresolved. Y/N looked away, brow drawn tight as she turned them over in her head. She was not naive. She knew exactly what kind of man Jungkook was. But she also could not erase what she had witnessed with her own eyes. He had stepped in when it mattered. He had taken hits meant for others. He had bled. More than once.

“Okay,” she said at last, slowly, as something clicked into place. “Maybe that’s not just a liability. Maybe that’s leverage. Maybe I can use that to help with—”

Lee cut her off without raising his voice. “He kills the pilot he steals from.”

The sentence landed hard. Whatever fragile thread of optimism she had been clinging to snapped cleanly. Her stomach rolled, heat draining from her face as the implications caught up with her. For a moment, she had to swallow back the sudden, sour wave of nausea.

“You said we were trusting him,” she said quietly, turning back to him. “You said there was a deal.”

“There is,” Lee replied. His tone was calm, almost patient, but his eyes were unyielding. He did not expect her to agree. He did not need her to.

Her jaw tightened. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

He shrugged, like they were discussing bad weather instead of people’s lives. “Chains don’t work on him. Prisons don’t either. The only thing that does is letting him believe he’s walking free. The second that belief cracks—”

“You mean the second he realizes you’re planning to screw him over,” she cut in sharply.

“We need a fail-safe,” Lee finished, not missing a beat. “Power cells come last. When the wings are patched, the fuel’s ready, and we can launch. Not before.”

She stared at him, searching his face for hesitation, for doubt. There was none. Just calculation. It made her skin crawl.

“He hasn’t hurt any of us,” she said, softer now. “Not once. And as far as I can tell, he hasn’t lied. Stick to the deal, Lee. Let him go if that’s what keeps this from blowing up.”

Lee shook his head, slow and deliberate. “He’s a murderer,” he said. “The law says he serves his time. What kind of lawman would I be if I let him walk?”

She turned away with a frustrated breath, shoulders sagging. “We’re walking a knife’s edge here. Every move you make just sharpens it.”

His voice hardened. “I won’t give him the chance to steal another ship. Or cut another pilot’s throat.”

The finality in his tone left no room to argue. Y/N studied him for a long moment, something unreadable in her expression. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, but it carried a warning all the same.

“Be careful, Lee. You’re trying to outplay someone who lives for this. Just make damn sure you’re done thinking three steps ahead before he is.”

She did not wait for an answer. She turned and stepped out of the skiff, her boots crunching away into the noise of the settlement. Lee remained where he was, hand resting near his weapon, his posture steady, but for the first time, not entirely certain.

The sun sat low over the settlement, bleeding orange and blue across the sky. The heat of the day had not let go yet. It clung to the air, thick and stale, pressing against skin and lungs alike. Shadows stretched long over the cracked ground, sharp-edged and restless, while the hum of tools and half-functional machinery blended with the constant buzz of insects. Everything felt coated in tension, the kind that settled into the body the way dust did, impossible to shake loose.

Y/N wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, smearing sweat and grit together until they were indistinguishable. It did not help. Nothing did. The heat, the waiting, the knowledge that night was coming all weighed on her. She glanced toward the skiff despite herself.

Jungkook was there, setting up a makeshift field table, his movements unhurried and deliberate. He worked like time was not chasing him, like the planet was not counting down to something ugly. Every motion was smooth, economical, confident in a way that made her irrationally tense.

And damn it, she noticed.

The miner’s goggles hid his eyes, their dark lenses reflecting the dying light, giving nothing away. Even so, the sharp line of his jaw and the faint curve of his mouth stood out. There was something about him that did not belong in this place. Too composed. Too alive. He looked wrong among the rust, the dust, the desperation. It was not just his face, either. It was the way he moved, like he knew exactly how much attention he drew and did not care who saw it.

Her gaze caught on the strength in his shoulders, the calloused hands that shifted easily between tools and weapons. She hated how easily her thoughts wandered, how attractive she found him like this, dirty, dangerous, utterly out of place. Maybe because of it. The realization irritated her more than she cared to admit.

Jungkook straightened, blade in hand, and turned his head just enough to face her. She felt the weight of his attention even through the goggles.

“You’re gonna overheat staring like that, Frenchie,” he said, smooth as ever.

Her jaw tightened. She hated that nickname. He had picked it up after hearing Captain Marshall use it once, something casual, almost fond, and turned it into this. Something that made her skin itch.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she shot back, forcing her attention onto the skiff’s monitors.

It did not help. She was still acutely aware of him when he moved closer, the smell of sweat and sun-warmed leather trailing after him in a way that was deeply unfair. Jungkook leaned against the hatch, spinning the blade between his fingers like it weighed nothing.

“You always this charming when you’re working,” he asked, “or is it just me?”

“It’s just you,” she muttered, eyes fixed on the screen, sharper than she meant to be.

He laughed quietly, low and easy, and the sound sent a shiver she did not want down her spine. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

She clenched her jaw and focused harder. Hull integrity numbers crept upward, slow but steady, yet her concentration kept slipping, snagging on his presence. He took up space without trying, impossible to ignore.

“You know,” he said, softer now, almost thoughtful, “you’re smart. Resourceful. I’d trust you to fix just about anything.”

Her fingers paused for half a second before she caught herself. “Thanks,” she said, not looking at him.

“And you smell nice,” he added lightly. “Even covered in sweat and blood.”

Her head snapped up. “You’re unbelievable.”

Jungkook grinned, clearly enjoying himself, and pushed off the hatch. “What? Can’t a guy give a compliment?”

She stepped closer, irritation overruling caution. “If you’re done being a nuisance,” she said, “you could actually help instead of hovering.”

His smirk lingered, slow and knowing, his gaze dragging over her before settling on her face like he was taking inventory. “Careful, Frenchie,” he said lightly. “You’re starting to sound like you might actually like having me around.”

“I’d like it better if you shut up,” she shot back. The words were sharp, but her body betrayed her anyway, her pulse quickening, heat creeping up her neck under the weight of his attention.

Jungkook leaned in just enough to crowd her space, his voice dropping into something low and smug. “Sure you would.”

She was halfway through a retort when boots crunched across the dirt, the sound cutting clean through the tension. Lee approached from the edge of the yard, dust clinging to his hair and clothes, his expression locked into its usual hard neutrality. His eyes slid between them, not lingering, not obvious, but long enough for Y/N to catch the tension in his jaw, the flicker of something tight and assessing in his stare.

She had felt it before. That quiet, constant awareness. The way his gaze followed her a second too long. She ignored it now. Calling it out would only make things worse, and the group was already stretched thin, nerves rubbed raw by heat and fear and too many unanswered questions. Still, something felt off today. Jungkook’s movements were not as smooth as usual. His hands trembled faintly as he adjusted the tools on the table, subtle enough that most people would not notice, but she did. Her stomach twisted. This planet was not kind to human bodies, and whatever he was fighting, he was not winning it easily.

He noticed her noticing.

When Jungkook finally looked at Lee, it was with that unsettling precision he had, sharp and deliberate. The smirk that followed was all teeth. “Bad sign,” he drawled, nodding toward Lee. “Shakin’ like that in this heat.”

Lee stiffened, jaw tightening, but he did not take the bait. He brushed past Jungkook without a word, attention snapping elsewhere like the comment had not landed at all.

The Chrislams arrived moments later, carrying a roll of Vectran between them. Their quiet voices blended with the steady hum of the skiff’s systems as they discussed measurements and placement. Namjoon patted at his side, frowning slightly. “Knife?”

“I got it,” Jungkook said, already moving. A blade slid into his hand so smoothly it was hard to see where it had come from. Whatever tremor Y/N had noticed earlier was gone now, his grip steady, practiced. He sliced through the Vectran cleanly, the edge catching the low light for a brief flash before he passed the cut lengths over.

Yeonjun took them and moved with easy confidence, scaling the wing struts like gravity was optional. He handed the material down to Namjoon, who set to work without speaking, stitching with careful, methodical precision.

For a few minutes, the yard settled into silence. There was no arguing, no tension snapping at their heels. Just the sound of hands working and the shared understanding that every stitch mattered.

Yeonjun hesitated on the wing strut, his head turning toward the horizon. The sun hung low and swollen, bleeding color across the flats and throwing shadows that stretched too long to be natural. The land looked still, empty, but the air felt tight, like it was waiting. After a moment, he shook it off and went back to work.

Inside the skiff, Y/N drew a slow breath and forced herself back into the task at hand. The hull integrity test crept toward completion, numbers ticking upward in patient, mechanical increments, but her attention kept slipping. Jungkook was behind her. Quiet. Unobtrusive. Impossible to ignore. He did not crowd her or announce himself. He simply existed in the space, a pressure at the edge of her senses.

The cabin was cooler than the yard outside, insulated from the worst of the heat, but her shoulders stayed tight. Her hands moved on instinct, fingers gliding over controls she had already checked twice, her thoughts circling the same unresolved tension she could not shake.

“Looks like we’re still short,” Jungkook said.

The sound of his voice cut cleanly through the hum of the systems. She turned too fast, heart jumping before she could stop it. He stood near the open battery bay, Namjoon’s knife rolling idly between his fingers. His stance was loose, almost lazy, but his attention was not. His gaze stayed locked on her, sharp enough to make her skin prickle.

“Power cells,” he added, as if confirming a suspicion.

“They’re on their way,” she replied, keeping her voice even despite the tightening in her chest.

He tipped his head, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his mouth. His eyes flicked to the console, then back to her. “Funny,” he said quietly. “You’re not spinning up the main drive yet.” He paused, just long enough for the thought to land. “Unless Lee told you how I usually get out of places.”

Her breath caught, but she masked it, her face settling into something neutral. “I got the long, ugly version,” she said. Short. Controlled.

Jungkook moved closer. Not rushed, never rushed, but deliberate. The air shifted with him. “So you’re worried about a repeat performance?” he murmured.

“It crossed our minds,” she shot back, sharper than she meant to be, her pulse betraying her.

His smirk deepened, but his tone softened, almost disarming. “I didn’t ask what crossed Lee’s mind,” he said. “I asked what you think.”

She turned away from him, sliding back into the pilot seat, shoulders squaring as if posture alone could shield her. Jungkook watched her do it, watched the resolve settle in her spine. Brave. Reckless. It stirred something dark and electric in him.

“You scare me,” she said suddenly, the admission slipping free before she could stop it. She hated herself for it. “There. Happy? Can I get back to work now?”

She kept her eyes on the monitor, jaw set, pretending to read the scrolling data, but the slight shake in her fingers betrayed her. Jungkook noticed immediately. He always did.

“You really think Lee’s the kind of man who keeps his word?” he asked quietly.

He stepped closer. Not crowding her. Not touching. Just close enough that his voice dropped into something low and intimate, dangerous in its calm. “You think I can trust him to cut me loose?”

She did not answer right away. That pause was enough.

Something hot and sharp flared in him, and it was not aimed at Lee. It was aimed at her. At the way she still believed she could balance this, do the right thing, keep everyone alive, walk away clean. It was naïve. It was impressive. It irritated him more than it should have.

“Why?” she asked finally, glancing back despite herself. “What did you hear?”

His mouth curved slowly, knowingly. “If it were simple, he’d have already put a bullet in me,” he said. “But I’m worth more alive.” He watched her shoulders tense, watched the thought sink in. “Didn’t know? Your guy’s not a cop. Badge looks good, sure, but he’s a merc. I’m a paycheck. Greed’s the creed.”

The words landed hard. She did not mask her reaction fast enough, and he saw it. The uncertainty. The crack in her certainty. He liked that. Liked the way doubt unsettled her just enough to let him in.

“Save the mind games,” she said, recovering quickly, her voice cooling. “We’re not turning on each other, no matter how hard you push.”

Jungkook laughed under his breath, low and dark. He leaned in just enough that she could feel the warmth at her back, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I don’t know what happens when the lights go out,” he said. “But once people start dying, this little family you’re holding together will tear itself apart. You should figure out who’s standing behind you when it does.”

The console chimed, sharp and sudden.

HULL INTEGRITY: 100%.

Jungkook straightened, satisfied. He turned toward the hatch like the conversation was already finished. The door hissed open, a rush of cooler air cutting through the cabin.

“Oh,” he added over his shoulder, faint amusement in his voice, “ask him about those shakes. And why your buddy screamed like that before he died.”

The hatch sealed, and he was gone.

Y/N stayed where she was, staring at the steady green lines on the screen as if they might rearrange themselves into something less damning. Her heart was still pounding. She hated how easily he unsettled her. Hated the way the space he left behind felt louder than when he had been there. And worst of all, she hated that some part of her suspected he knew exactly what he was doing.

She did not want to believe him. She really did not. Jungkook had every reason to lie, to sow doubt, fracture trust, weaken whatever control Lee still held. He thrived on that. On pressure points. On telling just enough truth to make it hurt.

Her hands moved through the remaining checks on autopilot. Fuel flow stabilizers. Pressure seals. Thermal dampeners along the patched wings. Each system responded cleanly, obediently, utterly indifferent to the storm in her head. She logged the readings, cleared warnings, ran a secondary diagnostic she did not need, anything to stay busy.

It didn’t help.

His voice kept slipping back in, uninvited.

Her jaw tightened. She checked the oxygen recyclers again. Fine. She rerouted auxiliary power, then rerouted it back, fingers pressing harder than necessary. The irritation built with every task, hot and restless. Anger was easier than fear. Anger gave her something solid to hold onto.

Lee wouldn’t kill Jungkook. Not yet. That much made sense. A bounty hunter didn’t throw away a payout unless forced. And Lee had been careful, chains, delays, moving pieces just out of reach while keeping everyone cooperative.

Her fingers stilled over the panel.

Ask him about the shakes.

She swallowed. She had noticed. Hands trembling when he thought no one was watching. The tension in his jaw. The way his temper frayed faster every hour. Stress, she’d told herself. Heat. Fatigue. Now it felt like an excuse.

Enough.

She closed out the final diagnostic with more force than necessary and pushed back from the console. The skiff hummed steadily behind her, ready. Waiting. She wasn’t.

Dropping down from the cockpit, she stepped into the yard, the heat hitting her full in the face. The settlement was louder now, raised voices, hurried footsteps, metal clanging as people scrambled to prepare for nightfall. The sun hung lower, shadows stretching long and warped across the ground.

Namjoon stood near the perimeter, talking with Bindi.

Y/N didn’t slow. She crossed the yard with purpose and stopped in front of him. Bindi took one look at her face and excused herself without a word.

“Have you seen Lee?” Y/N asked.

Namjoon’s brows lifted. “He said he was checking the cabin for anything else we could bring. Is everything okay?”

She inhaled, steadying herself. She could tell him what Jungkook had said, but not yet. She needed Lee first.

“Yeah,” she said, forcing the word out. “I just need to ask him something.”

Namjoon didn’t look convinced, but he nodded.

Y/N turned back toward the skiff, anger driving her steps as she made a beeline for the cabin.

The box of red-metal shotgun shells sat open on the narrow table, their lacquered casings catching the weak cabin light. Lee picked one up with practiced care. His hands were steady now, steadier than they had been an hour ago. He cracked the shell open, extracted the thin glass ampule hidden inside, and slid it into the barrel of a syringe. The plunger hissed softly. When the needle slipped into his vein, his shoulders tightened for a brief moment, then eased as the drug spread through his system. He let out a slow breath, his face settling into something smoother, quieter, the damage tucked neatly back beneath the surface.

“Who the fuck are you, really?”

Lee looked up. Y/N stood in the doorway, arms folded, her expression stripped of any pretense. There was no curiosity in her gaze, only anger.

“You’re not a cop,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

Lee didn’t answer right away. He set the syringe down, the faint clink against metal loud in the silence. His eyes flicked to her, irritation flashing and gone just as fast.

“Some mercenary asshole who talks about the law like—”

“I never said I was a cop,” he interrupted, voice calm but edged with warning.

She didn’t blink. “You did. You lying sack of shit.”

Her gaze dropped to the table. The shells. The syringe. The mess of quiet evidence laid out in front of him. She stepped into the room without waiting for permission and began going through his things, unhurried and deliberate. It was a challenge as much as it was an accusation.

She found another shell and held it up between two fingers, turning it slowly. “You’ve got a little caffeine in the morning,” Lee said lightly. “I’ve got a little morphine. What’s the difference?”

Her mouth twitched, humorless. “Looks like you take yours twice a day.”

“It’s not a problem unless you make it one.”

Her eyes snapped back to him, cold. “You made it a problem when you let Shields die while you were sitting on enough drugs to keep him alive.”

Lee scoffed and leaned back against the wall, arms crossing over his chest. “Yeah. I knew,” he said plainly. “Knew he was bleeding out. Knew the wound was bad. Knew that even if he made it through the first hour, he wouldn’t last the night.” His gaze didn’t waver. “And I didn’t care.”

The words landed heavy. Not because they surprised her, she’d already suspected as much, but because of how easily he said them.

“What, you want me to lie?” Lee went on, watching her closely. “Tell you I tried? That I did everything I could to save him?” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “I didn’t. Shields wasn’t worth the meds. He was in on it from the start. I offered him a cut if he helped reroute navigation. He knew what system we were heading into. Big-shot navigator out of Aguerra, right? He wanted his payday.”

Her hand clenched. “You set us up.”

“Shields set you up,” Lee corrected evenly. “I just opened the door. He chose to walk through it. If he was half as smart as everyone says, he wouldn’t have taken us anywhere near this system.”

Something cold settled in her gut. “You son of a bitch.”

Lee shrugged. “Still worked out for you, didn’t it? Shields can’t tell anyone about your little plan to dump forty passengers and save your own skin.”

A voice shouted from outside, sharp with urgency. “Captain! Captain!”

Lee smirked, something bitter curling his lips. His voice dropped, mocking. “Yeah, well. Look to thine own ass first. Right, Captain?”

The words landed heavy and ugly, but Y/N gave him nothing. She turned sharply, already halfway out the door, her back straight, her shoulders tight.

“That’s Doctor to you,” she said without looking back. The edge in her voice was sharp enough to cut. “Unlike you, I worked for what I have. Fucking pig.”

Lee started to speak, a reflex more than a thought, but the moment was already gone. She was moving away, boots striking the floor with quick, purposeful steps, taking her anger with her and leaving only the sour trace of it behind.

He stayed where he was, leaning against the wall, watching the doorway long after she disappeared. The smirk he’d been wearing slipped off his face. The ampule on the table lay empty, its promise already burning out of his veins, but the room still felt heavy, like something ugly had been said out loud and couldn’t be taken back.

Y/N didn’t stop walking until the noise of the cabin fell away behind her. She cut past the skiff and into the far edge of the settlement, where the shadows stretched longer and the air felt marginally less suffocating. Only then did she slow, bracing her hands on her knees as she bent forward, breathing hard, not from exertion, but from the effort of holding herself together.

Anger still crackled under her skin, sharp and restless. Lee’s voice echoed in her head, smug and unapologetic, every word peeling back another layer of rot she hadn’t wanted to see. She squeezed her eyes shut and dragged in a long breath through her nose, then another, forcing the tremor out of her hands. Losing it now wouldn’t help. Breaking down wouldn’t fix anything. She needed a clear head, not more chaos.

“Hey.”

The voice came from her left, cautious but familiar. Y/N straightened and turned to see Bindi approaching, wiping her hands on her pants, her expression tight with concern.

“You alright?” Bindi asked. “You stormed off like you were about to murder someone.”

Y/N huffed out a humorless laugh and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Tempting,” she muttered. “But no. I’m fine.”

Bindi didn’t look convinced. She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “That didn’t sound fine.”

Y/N hesitated, then shook her head. “It’s Lee. He just—” She stopped herself short, jaw tightening. “He pisses me off. That’s all.”

Bindi snorted. “Yeah, well. Join the club.” She leaned back against a rusted container, arms crossing over her chest. “Guy’s got bad vibes written all over him. Talks like he’s the only adult in the room, but half the time he’s just swinging his dick around.”

That earned a tired smile from Y/N. “Exactly.”

Bindi glanced toward the horizon, where the suns were sinking lower, bleeding color across the sky. The humor faded from her face. “Whatever beef you’ve got, it’s gotta wait. We’re almost out of time.”

Y/N followed her gaze. The light was already shifting, shadows crawling across the ground, stretching toward the settlement like long fingers. Night on this planet was not something you eased into. It came hard and fast.

“I know,” Y/N said quietly. “Skiff’s ready. Hull’s solid. We just need to move the last of the supplies and the cells.”

“Then let’s get it done,” Bindi said. “We load up, we get airborne, and we get the hell off this rock.”

Y/N nodded, squaring her shoulders. The anger was still there, coiled tight in her chest, but it had somewhere to go now.

“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s move.”

They stepped back into the yard together, the heat and noise hitting them all at once. The settlement was in full motion now, crates dragged across packed dirt, voices raised to be heard over the clatter of metal, the skiff’s engines ticking and whining as systems cycled up. Everyone was out there except Lee.

Y/N clocked that immediately.

Namjoon and Yeonjun were wrestling a crate toward the ramp, muscles straining, while Peter hovered nearby offering commentary that helped absolutely nothing. The Chrislams moved with quiet efficiency, passing sealed containers hand to hand, murmuring to one another as they worked. Leo darted back and forth, trying to be useful and mostly getting in the way.

Jungkook had one of the power cells slung across his back. The thing was massive, red-metal casing scarred and dented, cables bundled tight against it. It should have taken two people. He carried it alone, posture easy, shoulders barely hunched under the weight as he crossed the yard. Sweat darkened the collar of his shirt, but his pace never faltered. He didn’t look at Y/N as he passed her, but she felt the awareness anyway, like a pressure shift.

He reached the skiff, rolled his shoulders once, and slid the cell down with controlled precision. The impact thudded through the hull. He crouched immediately, hands moving fast as he locked it into place, fingers flying over clamps and ports like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“Cell three seated,” he called out. “You got the coupling ready?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon answered from the ramp. “Give me ten seconds.”

Y/N forced herself to stay focused. She grabbed a diagnostic pad from a crate and moved to the opposite side of the skiff, checking readouts, deliberately keeping distance between herself and Jungkook and from the empty space where Lee should have been.

Minutes stretched. The light shifted again, the suns dropping lower, shadows sharpening. Her irritation simmered with every passing second.

Where the hell was he?

Lee finally emerged from between two collapsed structures, walking at the same unhurried pace he always did. Calm. Controlled. The shotgun rested easy on his shoulder as his eyes swept the yard, taking stock like this was just another mess to manage. The sight of him twisted something hot and unpleasant in Y/N’s chest.

Her jaw tightened. She didn’t look at him. Didn’t acknowledge him at all. Instead, she adjusted her grip on the datapad and angled her body away, putting the skiff squarely between them. If she spoke to him right now, something sharp would come out, and she didn’t trust herself to stop once it started.

Lee stopped near the skiff, gaze flicking over the progress. “We good?”

“We’re getting there,” Namjoon replied evenly.

Jungkook straightened from the open bay, wiping his hands on his pants. His eyes cut briefly to Lee, sharp and measuring, before sliding away again, like he’d already taken what he needed from the look.

The tension settled heavier once Lee was back, thick and undeniable. Y/N moved around the skiff, checking a secondary latch that didn’t need checking, anything to avoid standing still. Lee spoke again, issuing instructions, and she followed them without comment, keeping her responses clipped and professional.

“Yes.”

“Done.”

“On it.”

Nothing more.

When Lee stepped closer, close enough that she caught the smell of dust and oil on him, she shifted instinctively, putting the skiff’s hull between them. The message was clear. He noticed. She saw it in the tightening of his mouth, the way his eyes lingered on her back.

She didn’t care.

Another power cell came in, Yeonjun and Peter wobbling under the weight, swearing as they went. Jungkook moved in without being asked, steadying the load, guiding it into place with quick, efficient motions. Wordless. Exactly what they needed right now.

Y/N keyed in the alignment and watched the indicator flash green. “Cell four locked,” she called. “One left.”

The sun had dropped lower, the sky bleeding color as the first hints of night crept across the ground. A familiar knot tightened in her gut. They were running out of daylight.

The change came fast.

One moment the yard was washed in bruised gold and rust, shadows stretching the way they had all afternoon. The next, the color began to drain, bleeding together like water spilled across ink. The air felt heavier, thicker, as though the planet itself had shifted its weight.

Y/N noticed first, not because she was looking up, but because everything slowed. Tools hesitated. Voices trailed off mid-sentence. Even the wind seemed to falter.

She lifted her head. The suns were still there, but something was wrong. The smallest of the three had dimmed, its light dulled as if a veil had been drawn across it. Around it, the sky deepened, blue bruising into violet, then into a color that did not quite have a name. Not night. Not storm. Something suspended between the two.

They stood scattered across the clearing, faces tilted upward, mouths parted, caught in a moment of stunned stillness. The air felt charged, almost humming, the kind of quiet that felt deliberate, as if the universe itself had paused to watch.

“What do my eyes see?” Peter whispered, his voice fragile with awe.

“It’s starting,” Y/N said softly, the words settling heavy in her chest.

Above them, an arch of light unfurled across the darkening sky. It shimmered faintly at first, a ghostly curve on the horizon, then spread wider and brighter, flowing overhead like a river of pale fire. Lavender and gold washed over the remaining suns, their light fighting back against the shadow creeping in from the opposite edge of the world. The contrast was breathtaking and wrong all at once, beautiful in a way that made her skin prickle.

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Bindi’s voice cut through the stillness, sharp and grounded. “If we need anything from the crash site, we go now. That sand-cat’s solar.”

The moment shattered. People lunged into motion, hands snatching up water, tools, weapons, anything not already secured. Boots pounded dirt, voices overlapped, urgency snapping into place like a reflex. Whatever spell the sky had cast broke under the weight of necessity.

Bindi was already climbing into the sand-cat, movements quick and practiced as she fired the engine. It roared awake, solar panels tilting to catch the last usable light. “Now or never!” she barked as the others scrambled aboard, the sky visibly darkening even as they moved.

“Power cells!” Y/N shouted, her voice cutting clean through the chaos. “Let’s go!”

The sand-cat lurched forward, tires chewing into the dirt and throwing up a thick plume of dust as it tore toward the wreck site. Jungkook vaulted onto the rear bed in one smooth motion, landing like he had been born on moving machinery. Peter and Leo sprinted after it, lungs burning, boots slamming hard until they caught the back rail just as the vehicle hit a rut. They hauled themselves up with a mix of curses and adrenaline.

“We stay together,” Bindi called over the engine’s roar, her voice steady enough to anchor them.

Lee burst from the settlement’s private quarters moments later, shotgun slung over his shoulder, a pouch of red-metal shells banging against his hip as he ran. The sand-cat veered past the incinerator, and without slowing, Jungkook leaned out and grabbed Lee by the arm, hauling him aboard in a single, effortless pull.

“Wouldn’t want you missin’ the fun,” Jungkook said lightly, though there was something darker under the words.

Lee shot him a tight look but said nothing, bracing himself as the sand-cat picked up speed, wind tearing at them.

“Look,” Leo breathed.

They crested a ridge, and the horizon opened wide.

A massive planet was rising, its curve impossibly vast, filling the sky with slow, inevitable dominance. Its surface shimmered with muted greens and silvers, like something alive beneath the crust. Rings spread outward in a glowing arc, jagged and luminous, catching what little light remained. Against it, the suns looked small, diminished, their glow swallowed by the sheer scale of what was coming. The planet’s shadow stretched across the land, heavy and unavoidable.

The sand-cat plunged into a canyon, engine roaring as sound bounced violently off the rock walls. Bones lined the path, massive, bleached remains of something long dead. Ribcages arched overhead like twisted bridges as the roll cage scraped past them with a shriek of metal, sparks flashing in the dark.

The wrecked ship came into view at the canyon’s base, its hull collapsed and broken, a carcass against the stone. Bindi slammed the brakes, and the moment the sand-cat skidded to a stop, everyone was moving. Orders snapped out, hands already reaching, the urgency pressing in from all sides as the light continued to drain away.

Peter froze for half a second, staring back at the sky. The planet loomed higher now, rings casting slow, shifting shadows across the desert floor. It felt less like a sight and more like a presence, something vast enough to swallow suns, sky, and maybe them along with it.

“Peter, move,” Y/N snapped.

He startled, tore his eyes away, and ran. Above them, the arch of light rippled, faintly alive, its glow bending as the shadows thickened. The air felt charged, tight with expectation, as if the world itself were bracing.

Whatever was coming, it was close.

They were already running out of time.

Inside the battery bay, the air tasted sharp and wrong, ozone and burnt metal layered over the sour bite of old wiring. Emergency lights flickered overhead, barely holding on, throwing uneven shadows across the cramped space. Rows of depleted power cells stood shoulder to shoulder in the dimness, massive and silent, like sentries left behind after the war was already lost. The room was cold. Too cold. The only sounds were the weak hum of failing systems and the scrape of Lee’s boots against the deck.

Lee dug his heels in and hauled on the first cell. It fought him every inch of the way, a deadweight cylinder locked into its cradle by decades of neglect. His jaw clenched as he wrenched it loose, muscles screaming as the mass shifted suddenly. For a second he nearly lost his footing, the weight pulling him forward, but he caught himself and dragged it clear. The metal shrieked against the floor as he pulled it along, every step slow and punishing, each scrape a reminder of how much farther he still had to go.

Sweat gathered at his hairline and slid down his temples, soaking into the collar of his jumpsuit. His arms trembled, breath coming short and rough, but he didn’t stop. Stopping wasn’t an option. Not with the sky changing outside. Not with time bleeding out around them.

Footsteps sounded behind him, light and unhurried. Lee glanced back just in time to see Jungkook lift another cell free of its cradle and swing it up onto his shoulder in one smooth motion. No strain. No hesitation. The weight that had nearly thrown Lee off his feet settled against Jungkook like it belonged there. He moved easily, posture loose and balanced, like this was nothing more than routine.

Jungkook passed him with a grin that showed too much teeth. “Try to keep up, old man,” he said, voice easy and amused. The words were light, but the challenge beneath them was not.

Lee scowled and adjusted his grip, anger giving him just enough fuel to keep moving. He dragged the cell toward the ramp, boots slipping, arms burning, refusing to let the distance between them grow any wider.

Jungkook reached the ramp first, descended it with the same unbothered grace, and hopped the last step. He set the cell down onto the sand-cat with a heavy thud and glanced back, one brow lifting in a silent taunt.

“Need a hand?” he called, mock concern dripping from the words.

“Don’t push it,” Lee shot back, hauling his own load up the ramp, teeth clenched against the pain flaring through his shoulders.

Outside, Bindi swung the sand-cat into position, the treads grinding over stone as dust billowed up around them. She stopped with practiced precision, leaving just enough room to work. The scrap-metal sled rattled behind the vehicle, scarred and crooked but still holding together. The Chrislams moved in immediately, tying it off with frayed rope and improvised clamps, hands steady, movements fast and purposeful.

Jungkook didn’t wait. He lifted the cell from his shoulder and dropped it onto the sled. Metal groaned under the impact, but it held. Lee arrived seconds later, shoving his own cell into place beside it, both of them moving in tense, wordless sync.

Overhead, the light began to fail. One by one, the suns dulled as the planet’s rings slid across them, swallowing their glow until the sky slipped into an unnatural twilight. Color drained from the landscape, leaving everything washed in bruised purples and dull gray. Shadows stretched too far and bent at the wrong angles, no longer matching the shapes that cast them, as if the ground itself had shifted beneath their feet. The air thickened, heavy in the lungs, pressing down with quiet insistence.

As the darkness deepened, a sound crept in alongside it, a thin, high whine that vibrated through the air. At first it was easy to miss, more a sensation than a noise, but it grew steadily louder, burrowing into bone and nerve. It felt less like sound and more like pressure, as though the world itself were being tuned to something deeply wrong.

“Keep moving. Don’t stop.” Y/N’s voice cut through it, sharp and commanding. Fear edged her words, but it only made them firmer, impossible to ignore.

The others reacted on instinct. Hands flew, grips slipped, straps were cinched too tight. Power cells scraped across rock, boots skidded in the dust, breaths came fast and shallow. Everything turned frantic, driven by the same unspoken understanding: hesitation would cost them something they couldn’t afford to lose.

Peter slowed despite himself, his attention tugged toward the jagged spires in the distance. Their dark silhouettes clawed up into the dimming sky, drawing his gaze even as unease prickled along his arms. He didn’t notice his shoulders tightening or the way the air around them seemed to thrum, alive with something just out of sight.

“Peter, now is not the time.” Bindi’s voice snapped across the site, all steel and authority.

The suns vanished completely behind the planet’s vast rings, the last smear of red light snuffed out like a dying ember. Darkness fell hard and fast, not empty, but deliberate, almost aware. The whine swelled into a keening wail that rattled teeth and nerves alike, panic rippling through the group.

Beyond the crash site, the spires began to stir.

At first it looked like smoke, curling up from the hills in long, twisting tendrils that moved against the wind. The motion was wrong, too deliberate, too purposeful, and the realization hit all at once. It wasn’t smoke.

Clicks and shrieks tore through the air, layered into a jagged chorus that set every nerve on edge. Sleek shapes cut through the darkness as wings filled the sky, pouring from the spires in relentless waves. The air churned as the swarm spread, blotting out what little light remained, turning the night into a writhing storm.

“Jesus…” Lee breathed, disbelief roughening his voice. “How many of them are there?”

The answer came in numbers too large to grasp. For a fleeting moment, it almost looked as though the swarm might pass overhead, spilling toward some distant hunt. That illusion shattered as part of it shifted course in unison, peeling away and angling straight toward them.

Peter swallowed hard. “Just a thought,” he said, panic creeping into his voice. “Maybe we should run?”

“Cargo hold! Everyone, move! Now!” Y/N shouted.

They ran.

Boots slammed into the ground, each step a frantic bid for distance, for time, for something that might let them survive another second. Behind them the air seemed to tear open as wings screamed overhead, the sound swelling until it pressed into their backs and rattled through bone and breath alike. It felt close enough to grab them, close enough to swallow them whole.

Y/N reached the hatch first and twisted sideways through it, momentum carrying her a step too far before instinct snapped her around. Her stomach dropped. Jungkook and Bindi were still out there.

They sprinted across the open stretch, stripped down to stark silhouettes beneath the churning sky. The sickly glow of beating wings flashed over them in violent pulses, light, dark, light, like a broken alarm counting down to something final. Bindi’s stride faltered, breath tearing from her chest in sharp, panicked gasps. Jungkook stayed at her side, jaw set, eyes locked forward, refusing to look back.

The swarm came down all at once.

It wasn’t a fall so much as a collapse, the sky giving way in a single violent surge. Wings and talons shredded the air, shrieks folding into one overwhelming roar that crushed everything else beneath it. The pressure hit like a solid wall. Jungkook and Bindi dove together, bodies slamming into the ground as razor-edged wings scythed through the space where their heads had been a heartbeat earlier.

The force of it flattened them. Dust and debris blasted into their faces. Bindi gasped, lungs seizing, fingers digging into the dirt as if the ground might hold her there, might hide her. Her body locked up, terror pinning her in place as completely as any claw.

Jungkook lay beside her, unnervingly still. His eyes followed the storm overhead with a calm that didn’t belong in a moment like this. Slowly, deliberately, he raised the crude bone shiv in his hand. The gesture was almost reverent, like an offering, like someone reaching into the mouth of a god just to see what would happen. He thrust upward. The blade vanished instantly. No resistance. No hesitation. One moment it existed, the next it was gone, shredded beyond sight. Jungkook tilted his head, as if filing the result away.

“Bindi!” Leo’s voice ripped through the chaos from the cargo hold, raw and breaking. “Stay down! Don’t move!”

Her name cut straight through the paralysis. Bindi’s head snapped toward the sound, and hope, thin and fragile and almost cruel, flared in her chest. She moved before fear could clamp down again, dragging herself forward on shaking arms. Her elbows scraped against the dirt, skin tearing as pain flashed bright and sharp. She welcomed it. Pain meant movement. Movement meant she was still alive.

Every inch felt endless. The world narrowed to the thunder of her heartbeat, the burn in her lungs, the harsh rasp of her breath tearing in and out. The hatch loomed just ahead, close enough now to see hands reaching for her. Y/N’s face hovered there, white with terror, her mouth forming words Bindi couldn’t hear over the roar.

She reached again.

The sound above her changed. It sharpened, climbing into a single brutal pitch as the swarm shifted midair. Thousands of bodies adjusted at once, wings snapping, angles tightening, all of that violence snapping into focus.

The hatchlings turned.

“No,” Y/N breathed, the word splintering as it left her throat. “No. No. No.”

Bindi looked up.

The realization hit her all at once, sharp and absolute. One second she was dragging herself toward the hatch, fingers scraping dirt. The next, the ground dropped away. Talons hooked into her clothes, her arms, her hair, anything they could seize. She was ripped upward so violently that the scream tore out of her before she could draw breath, raw and unrestrained, a sound of pure terror that vanished into the roar almost as soon as it began.

The swarm closed around her. Wings battered her from every side, slamming into her body hard enough to twist her midair. She flailed, arms snapping outward, fingers grasping at nothing but slick, unyielding bodies. Her scream broke apart into choking sobs as pressure crushed in from all directions, claws digging deeper, something tearing free with a wet, sickening sound she felt more than heard.

They carried her higher.

For a fleeting moment she was still visible, silhouetted against the storm of wings, mouth open in a silent cry, eyes blown wide with a fear so complete it barely seemed human. Blood streaked through the air in dark arcs as the swarm churned around her, bodies colliding, pulling, tearing in different directions.

Another sound came from her, warped and wrong, no longer a scream so much as noise forced from a breaking body. Her movements lost their rhythm, turned frantic, then disjointed, then weak. Each violent tug stripped something away, strength, breath, awareness, until she was no longer a person, only a shape being dismantled by a thousand merciless hands. The sound of tearing filled the air, intimate and obscene beneath the shriek of wings.

Her scream cut off mid-breath.

The swarm surged once more and closed over itself, lifting and dispersing as if nothing had been there at all.

What followed wasn’t relief. It wasn’t peace.

It was the sudden absence of sound, the wrongness of it pressing in where life had been moments before. The roar of wings faded into the dark, leaving only echoes and the empty space where Bindi should have been.

The ground beneath the hatch was slick and dark.

That was all that remained of Bindi Hine.

Inside the cargo hold, no one moved. Faces were pale, eyes fixed, breath locked tight in chests that refused to rise. They had seen it. Watched her vanish as if the night itself had reached down and taken her.

Outside, Jungkook stood where he’d landed, unmoving amid the settling dust. His gaze tracked the last of the swarm as it disappeared into the dark sky. After a moment, he straightened and brushed the dirt from his hands, movements calm and deliberate, as though the world hadn’t just torn itself open. He turned and walked toward the cargo hold at an unhurried pace.

No one spoke.

Y/N drew a breath, mouth opening around words that wouldn’t come, when a new sound crept into the air.

Click. Click. Click.

It started faint and distant, like stone tapping stone. Then it grew louder and sharper, echoing across the ground, vibrating through the metal walls and into bone. The air felt different, heavier, as though something enormous had shifted its weight.

Y/N felt it settle cold and tight in her gut. She knew that sound.

“Jungkook…” Her voice barely carried, thin with fear. “What’s happening?”

He stopped just outside the cargo hold. The dim light caught on his goggles as he lifted them, revealing eyes that gleamed strangely in the dark. He didn’t look at her. His attention was fixed on the distant spires.

They were collapsing.

Jagged peaks groaned and folded inward, the ground shuddering beneath their weight. From the crumbling cliffs, massive shapes stepped free, each movement slow and deliberate. These weren’t the frantic hatchlings. These moved with purpose. Hammer-shaped heads swayed as they advanced, joints clicking in a steady, rhythmic cadence that echoed through the canyon walls. Their bodies were slick and sinewy, disturbingly mammalian, catching what little light remained as they emerged from the earth that had hidden them.

“What is it?” Y/N asked, her voice shaking despite herself. “What do you see?”

Jungkook finally spoke, his tone low, almost amused.

“The grown-ups,” he said quietly, a dark smile touching his mouth. “Told you. Ain’t me you gotta worry about.”

Above them, the planet’s rim swallowed the last of the light. The suns vanished, the stars drowned out by the movement of predators pouring into the sky. The darkness pressed down, thick and suffocating, as the world tipped fully into night.

Y/N slammed her palm into the control panel. The doors answered with a deep hydraulic hiss, metal grinding against metal as the thick cargo shutters slid closed. When the lock engaged, the sound rang out sharp and absolute, echoing through the hold like a verdict.

The space they were sealed into felt too small the moment the doors stopped moving. Bodies pressed close, shoulders brushing, heat and fear building in the stale air. Flashlights flicked on one by one, beams wobbling as hands shook, throwing long, restless shadows across the curved walls. Every creak of the hull sounded louder than it should have. Every distant scrape felt deliberate, like something outside was listening.

Y/N leaned back against the cold metal, chest rising too fast, heart slamming as she tried to get her bearings. No one spoke at first. Faces were pale and drawn, eyes too wide, each person trapped in their own spiraling thoughts. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

It didn’t last. The clicking carried through the hull again, closer now. Rhythmic. Persistent. It wormed its way under their skin, vibrating through the metal and into bone.

Leo slid down the wall until he was crouched, knees pulled tight to his chest. His voice barely carried. “What if… what if she’s still out there? What if she’s alive?”

No one answered him.

Lee, leaning against the opposite wall, let out a short, humorless snort. “Hate to be the guy who ruins the fantasy,” he said, voice flat and cold, “but you remember that bone yard we passed? Those things didn’t leave much behind. Odds of her knockin’ on the door right now are pretty damn close to zero.”

Y/N swallowed hard. The image rose unbidden, bleached ribs, shattered skulls, gouges cut too clean to be weather or time. “I saw the marks,” she said quietly. “Those things butchered them.”

“Quiet,” Namjoon said, lifting a hand. He pressed his ear to the cargo door, eyes narrowed, every muscle in his body drawn tight. The others followed his lead, breathing shallowly as they strained to listen past the thick metal.

Outside, the clicking swelled, passed, then receded again, like a tide rolling just beyond sight.

Leo broke the silence, fear edging every word. “Why do they do that? The noise, I mean.”

Namjoon didn’t move from the door. “It may be how they perceive their surroundings,” he said slowly.

“Echolocation,” Y/N murmured. The word settled heavy in her chest. “Like bats.”

The realization barely had time to land before a new sound answered it.

Click.

Flashlights snapped around in unison, beams slicing through the dark. The hold seemed to stretch and deepen, shadows pooling thicker in the corners. The sound came again, closer now, sharper.

Leo’s voice shook. “Where is that coming from?”

The lights converged on a container halfway down the length of the hold. Its door hung ajar, swaying slightly, metal ticking softly as it moved.

A voice whispered, barely audible. “How the hell did one get in here?”

Y/N didn’t hesitate. “Hull breach,” she said. “Or the vents. Something big enough to kill that fast doesn’t need much space.”

All eyes shifted to Lee.

His jaw tightened. He blew out a breath and reached for his shotgun. “Goddammit,” he muttered. “I’d rather piss glass.”

Jungkook, lounging against the wall like the world wasn’t ending, smirked. “You’ve got the big gun, old man. Guess it’s your moment.”

Lee shot him a hard look, grip tightening on the stock. “You wanna keep flappin’ that mouth,” he said, low and sharp, “or you wanna take point?”

The clicking answered them, closer now, layered with a sudden crash from deeper in the hold. Something heavy went over, metal slamming into metal, the sound ricocheting through the space and settling in their chests like a dropped weight.

“Big beads,” Jungkook said lightly, the corner of his mouth lifting as if this were anything but a nightmare.

Lee didn’t rise to it. He shook his head, took a pull from his breather, and stepped forward. “Asshole,” he muttered, more tired than angry.

He moved toward the open container with careful, measured steps, shotgun up, flashlight carving a thin tunnel through the dark. The clicking bounced off the walls, impossible to place, as though the sound itself were circling them. The hold felt tighter with every step, the darkness pressing in, heavy and watchful.

When he reached the container, Lee paused. His breath went shallow. Without warning, he fired into the shadows.

The blast was deafening in the enclosed space, the recoil punching through his arms as the sound slammed back at them from every surface. A sharp, high squeal followed, brief and broken, before cutting off entirely. Silence rushed in after it, thick and unnatural.

Lee edged around the container, sweeping his light inside. The beam caught on a mess of small bodies piled together, twisted and half-formed, their limbs still twitching, slick with blood and pulp. He let out a slow breath, some of the tension draining from his shoulders.

“Okay,” he called back, voice steadier. “We’re good. Just a few small ones. Must’ve slipped in. Nothing to—”

A long, brutal shape whipped out of the dark and smashed into his shotgun with precise force. The weapon flew from his hands, clanging hard against the floor. It discharged as it fell, the blast ripping into the ceiling in a flash of light and thunder.

In that instant, Lee saw it.

The adult stood just beyond the reach of the beam, massive and still, its hammer-shaped head angling toward him as the clicking rolled out again, slower now, deliberate. Its skin caught the light in dull, wet ripples, swallowing warmth, swallowing detail. It didn’t rush. It waited.

“Shit,” Lee breathed.

Peter shoved forward, panic breaking through his composure. Sweat streaked his face as he reached for the door lever. “I’m not staying in here.”

Y/N caught him by the arm, fingers digging in hard. “Jesus, Peter, you don’t know what’s out there,” she snapped, fear cracking through her grip on control.

“I know what’s in here,” he shot back, breath ragged, eyes darting. “And I’m not waiting for it to finish the job.”

“Enough.” Namjoon stepped between them, hands raised, voice calm but urgent. “This way. Deeper in. Move. Now.”

They followed him without arguing, packed tight as they retreated into the container. The air grew thick with sweat and recycled breath, the hiss of respirators loud in the sudden quiet. No one spoke. The floor groaned under hurried steps, metal complaining with every movement.

A new sound crept in behind them.

At first it was faint, almost easy to dismiss, a light scratching, distant and slow. Then it grew louder, more deliberate, metal rasping under pressure. The sound dragged itself through the silence, winding around their nerves, impossible to ignore.

Lee swore under his breath and fumbled for the cutting torch at his belt. His hands shook as he sparked it to life. The flame bloomed in a harsh burst of orange, throwing stark light across pale faces and deepening the shadows along the walls. He adjusted the flow, coaxing the flame higher.

“Stay back,” he said, voice tight, as he turned toward the far wall. The torchlight painted the door in a wavering glow, drawing every eye to it, a quiet promise that whatever was coming hadn’t finished yet.

The scratching deepened into something heavier, more purposeful. Long, curved claws dragged along the seams of the door, probing, testing, making the metal complain with low, stressed groans. Every scrape lingered in the air, followed by a pause just long enough to let the dread settle before the next one came.

The blows followed soon after. Not frantic. Measured. Each impact hit the container like a hammer, sending vibrations through the floor and up their legs. The metal buckled inward by degrees, each strike forcing them tighter together, herding them back with nowhere left to retreat. The sound was unbearable, too loud, too close, every hit stripping away another layer of hope.

“Can you do something else with that?” Jungkook snapped, irritation cutting through the fear as he jerked his chin toward the torch. “Besides shoving it in my fucking face?”

Lee shot him a look that could have drawn blood, but he didn’t rise to it. He turned back to the wall and set the torch to work, the flame biting into metal with a harsh crackle. Sparks sprayed across the floor, bright and fleeting. Each second felt counted, measured by the glowing line creeping forward inch by inch.

Behind them, the sound shifted again. Scratching gave way to tearing, steel screaming as it was pulled apart. The blows came faster now, heavier, shaking the container hard enough to rattle teeth. The wall bowed inward, the metal flexing under the pressure like it might fold at any second.

“Hurry,” Y/N breathed. The word barely made it past her throat. “Please.”

Lee didn’t answer. He didn’t look back. His focus stayed locked on the cut, jaw clenched, hands steady despite the tremor running through the space. The door behind them groaned again, the curve of it visibly warping.

The opening finally gave.

“Go,” Leo hissed, scrambling through first, all elbows and panic as he dropped into the darkness beyond. “Go, go.”

The door behind them failed with a sound like the world tearing in half. Metal ripped free in a shriek that swallowed every other noise, and the predators poured through.

They were massive up close. Sleek, brutal shapes moving with terrifying control, hammer-like heads swinging as serrated claws struck sparks from the floor. The clicking filled the space, layered and relentless, bouncing off the walls as they surged forward with practiced precision. They didn’t hesitate. They didn’t rush. They hunted.

“Move!” Y/N shouted, shoving Peter toward the opening as hard as she could.

They scrambled through one by one, breath tearing from their lungs. The moment Lee cleared the hatch, he turned and slammed the torch against the edges, welding the thin sheet of metal shut just as claws hit it from the other side. The impact rang through the barrier almost instantly, metal shrieking as fresh welds were tested.

“Don’t stop!” Namjoon barked, already moving.

They ran through the adjoining container, darkness swallowing them whole. The clicking followed, never fading, skittering along the walls like it knew exactly where they were. Lee sparked the torch again, its weak glow carving out just enough space to see, and started cutting another exit. His movements were fast but controlled, the flame steady despite the chaos.

Y/N and Peter threw themselves against the door behind them, dragging crates, pipes, anything they could find into place. It barely slowed the assault. The metal buckled under claw and weight, barriers collapsing as fast as they were built.

Each escape bought them seconds. Nothing more. Every time they broke through into the next container, the predators were already there, claws raking, metal screaming, the clicking rising into something wild and frenzied. The chase didn’t pause. It didn’t tire.

It only closed in.

By the time they reached the fifth container, Y/N and Peter were barely holding the barricade together. Sweat ran into their eyes as they shoved crates and lengths of pipe into place, muscles shaking with exhaustion. On the other side, the predators screamed and tore at the metal, the sound close enough to feel through their ribs. Jungkook pressed in beside them, palms flat against the wall, lending his weight to keep it from buckling.

He stopped suddenly.

His attention snagged on the cargo stacked along the far wall. At first glance, the marks looked like random damage, scratches from shifting freight, but they were too clean for that. Too intentional. Narrow cuts scored the metal in straight, confident lines. His eyes followed them downward, tracing the path to the floor, where dark smears glistened faintly and disappeared into the shadows.

Jungkook eased away without a word, moving lightly, careful not to draw attention. The noise of the barricade swallowed the sound of his steps as he slipped toward the unlit end of the container.

Peter noticed too late. “Hey. Jungkook?” His voice wavered. “Where are you going?”

There was no answer.

Jungkook slipped beyond the reach of the torchlight and into the dark. His boot slid on something slick, and he slowed immediately, lifting his goggles to see what the shadows were hiding. The smell hit first, sharp copper layered over rot. Hatchlings lay strewn across the floor, bodies torn apart and abandoned where they’d fallen, blood smeared across the metal in careless streaks.

He felt the predator before he spotted it, a pressure in the air that made the space feel occupied even when it looked empty.

It crouched atop a stack of cargo ahead of him, not fully grown but already dangerous. The creature fed with calm precision, tearing into a carcass in measured movements. A thick, blade-like crest rose from its head, catching what little light there was as it lifted and clicked, testing the air. One scythe-shaped limb swept slowly back and forth, mapping the space through vibration.

Metal shrieked behind him as another hatch was forced open. Leo came through first, followed by Y/N and Lee. Namjoon and Kai lingered at the threshold, eyes adjusting as they scanned the container.

“Where’s Jungkook?” Namjoon asked quietly.

Kai found the answer before anyone could respond.

He stepped around the cargo stack and froze.

Jungkook saw the danger a heartbeat earlier. In the dark, the space wasn’t empty. It was layered. Edges sharpened. Heat bled through shadow and steel alike, living things burning brighter than their surroundings. Above Kai, clinging to ceiling struts invisible to human eyes, something shifted.

The adolescent dropped.

Its blade swept down in a clean, brutal arc, serrated edge flaring as it caught the dim light. Jungkook stepped forward without hesitation, his voice snapping through the moment.

“Don’t move.”

Kai obeyed, just long enough. The blade skimmed his cheek instead of splitting his skull, opening a thin, precise line. Blood welled instantly. The predator clicked, quick and sharp, recalibrating as it learned. Its head tilted.

The shadows behind it moved.

Jungkook caught the distortion immediately, a heavier presence sliding forward, larger, slower, deliberate. A second predator emerged, its blade longer and worn smooth by use. A veteran. Its wings flexed once, barely stirring the dust suspended in the air.

“Kai,” Jungkook said, low and urgent. “Don’t.”

“Jungkook?” Y/N called from the hatch. Her flashlight beam cut through the wrong space, shaking as it searched. “What’s happening?”

Kai’s breathing turned shallow and fast. Jungkook could see it, the flare of panic heating his blood, turning him into a beacon. His eyes darted to the hatch, to the light, to escape so close it hurt.

Both predators turned in perfect unison. Kai ran. Jungkook lunged, hand snapping out, but terror had already taken over. The instant Kai moved, the predators reacted.

The larger one dropped first, wings cracking open with a violent rush of air. The adolescent surged beneath it, blade flashing upward. Jungkook registered the angle, the timing, the certainty of the strike.

Kai screamed once. The sound rang sharp and raw before breaking apart. The first blade punched into his side, lifting him off his feet. The second ripped across his back as the larger predator slammed into him midair.

They hit the floor together.

Kai thrashed, boots scraping uselessly as talons pinned him down. Jungkook saw his face with sickening clarity, eyes blown wide, mouth open in a plea that never fully formed. Blood sprayed across the metal in violent arcs.

The adolescent struck again and again, each blow precise and learned, cutting resistance away piece by piece. Kai’s movements went wild, then clumsy, then weak. His scream collapsed into a wet, broken sound as something vital gave way.

The larger predator leaned in, hooked its claws into Kai’s torso, and pulled.

The sound was wrong, too loud, too final. Kai’s body arched once before going slack as the predators tore him apart with brutal coordination.

Jungkook didn’t look away.

He watched the heat fade from Kai’s body in uneven pulses, saw it flicker and gutter out. What remained was dragged back into the dark, blood dripping in slow, shining drops that marked where he had been.

Where he wasn’t anymore.

The predators clicked softly, satisfied.

Jungkook moved the instant it was over. He dropped behind the cargo stack as the larger predator’s head snapped up and its attention shifted, hitting the floor hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. He rolled on instinct and broke into a sprint as the shadows adjusted, survival taking over in a way that was sharp and automatic, stripped of thought.

Light slammed into his face. He flinched, one hand flying up as his vision washed out. “Turn that off,” he snapped, the words rough and urgent.

The beam slid past him instead and landed squarely on the predator closing in behind. The effect was immediate. The creature recoiled with a guttural howl, its movements collapsing into wild, uncoordinated thrashing, limbs scraping uselessly against the floor as though the light itself had burned it.

Y/N froze, the flashlight trembling in her grip. Her pulse hammered in her ears as her mind scrambled to catch up. Had that just stopped it?

The moment shattered with the thunder of Lee’s shotgun. The blast tore through the container, the sound ricocheting off metal until it felt like it was inside their skulls. He fired into the dark without aiming, adrenaline locking his face into something rigid and unrecognizable.

“Stop it!” Y/N screamed, lunging forward and shoving him hard enough to make him stagger. “Stop it, stop!”

Lee sucked in a shaky breath, fingers white-knuckled around the shotgun. “It’s okay,” he said, though his voice wobbled. “I killed it.”

No one answered. A heavy thud followed instead, something dense and wet hitting the floor. The carcass twitched weakly, steam curling up from its still-warm body.

Peter swallowed. “Christ,” he breathed. “He really did.”

Y/N swept the beam over the creature, forcing herself to look. Its flesh was charred and blistered, the sinewy surface shrinking and cracking beneath the light, sizzling faintly as though it were being burned alive all over again.

“There,” she said quietly, the certainty settling into her chest like a weight.

Peter crouched closer despite himself, revulsion and fascination twisting together on his face. “It’s like the light’s scalding it.”

“It is,” Y/N replied, her voice firm now, edged with something cold and focused. “Light hurts them.”

From somewhere beyond the container came the wet, feral sounds of predators fighting over fresh meat, clicking, tearing, the unmistakable noise of feeding. The sound turned their stomachs.

Namjoon’s jaw tightened as he looked at Jungkook. “Is that… Kai?”

Jungkook nodded once. He didn’t speak.

The space seemed to press in on them, the air thick with fear and the raw weight of what they’d lost. The barricade of cargo stacked against the walls no longer felt protective, just a fragile illusion no one truly believed in. Y/N’s handlight cut a narrow path through the darkness, its beam steady but small, holding back the night by sheer stubbornness.

Leo sat with his back to the wall, knees pulled tight to his chest. The defiance that usually clung to him was gone, stripped away and replaced with something younger and more brittle. His green eyes flicked toward every sound, every shift of shadow. Y/N caught sight of him and felt a sharp twist in her chest, something bitter and aching, but she pushed it down. Sympathy could come later. Survival had to come first.

“All right,” she said, her voice firm as it carried through the container. “Inventory. One cutting torch. One handlight. There are two more flashlights back in the cabin, maybe a couple beyond that.”

Peter cleared his throat, trying for levity and not quite pulling it off. “Liquor,” he added. “Anything over forty-five proof burns.”

Y/N didn’t miss a beat. “How many bottles?”

Peter shrugged. “Ten. Maybe more.”

“The misting umbrellas,” she said, already thinking ahead. “If we soak them, could they burn?”

Peter’s brow lifted, interest cutting through his nerves. “Maybe. With enough fuel and a prayer.”

“Good,” Y/N said. “That might be enough light to move.”

“Move where?” Lee cut in, skepticism sharp in his voice.

“To the skiff,” she replied evenly. “We get four cells loaded, we leave.”

Lee let out a short, humorless laugh. “Lady, if that sounds sane to you, I hope you lose your mind real fast.”

She ignored him and kept her focus on the group. “We stick to the plan. Four cells and we’re off this planet.”

Peter snorted. “Minor problem. The sand-cat doesn’t run at night.”

“Then we haul them,” Y/N said, her tone flat and final. “Drag them if we have to.”

The floor light flickered. Y/N glanced at it, jaw tightening, silently daring it to stay alive.

“You mean tonight?” Leo asked, his voice thin with fear. “With those things still out there?”

Peter forced a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sure. Sounds like a great time.”

“How long does this darkness last?” Lee asked, the sarcasm gone now, replaced by something harder. “Minutes? Hours?”

Namjoon hesitated before answering. “The orbit’s locked. This isn’t passing soon.”

Lee shook his head. “The suns have to come back eventually. If light hurts them, we wait.”

“I’m sure someone said that once,” Y/N replied quietly. “Locked inside the coring room.” She lifted her gaze. “Three days. That’s how long it lasted last time.”

The words landed heavy. No one spoke. The coring room was not a mystery anymore. It was a tomb.

Lee exhaled slowly. “We have to think about everyone,” he said. “Especially the kid. You really want her out there?”

Y/N’s eyes snapped to him, cold and cutting. “Don’t hide behind her to justify your own fear.”

His posture stiffened. “Why don’t you shut it for two seconds and let someone come up with a plan that doesn’t end with us dead?”

Silence stretched tight between them.

“How much do you weigh, Lee?” Y/N asked calmly.

He blinked. “What?”

“How much.”

“Seventy-nine kilos.”

She nodded once. “That’s seventy-nine kilos of gutless white meat. That’s why you can’t come up with a better plan.”

Lee lunged, fury breaking across his face, but Jungkook moved faster. He stepped between them without hesitation, clean and deliberate, closing the distance until the barrel of Lee’s shotgun bumped lightly beneath his chin. The contact was almost gentle, which somehow made it worse.

The dim light overhead threw their shadows across the walls, restless and warped, as if the space itself were holding its breath.

“Think about that reward, Lee,” Jungkook said quietly. His tone was almost conversational, but there was a sharp edge under it that left no doubt he meant every word.

Lee didn’t back down. His jaw tightened. “I’m willing to take a pay cut.”

Jungkook’s mouth curved, the smile thin and empty. “How about a cut to your gut?”

He stepped in closer, smooth as a predator slipping into striking range. A shiv appeared in his hand, small, crude, viciously sharp, its tip hovering just inches from Lee’s stomach. Close enough to promise damage without delivering it.

“Oh, Trash Baby,” Lee snarled. “You’re gonna regret this.”

The air seemed to compress around them. No one moved. The tension was thick enough to taste, every person in the hold braced for the moment it tipped into violence.

“Please.” Namjoon’s voice slipped in carefully, calm but firm. He stepped forward with his hands raised, positioning himself just off to the side, not daring to wedge between them. “This doesn’t help. Not now. Please.”

The silence stretched, broken only by the faint hum of the handlight and the distant, uneven clicking echoing through the metal corridors beyond. It was close enough to feel, a reminder that whatever waited outside didn’t care about their arguments.

Lee was the first to yield. He stepped back, shoulders tight, anger still burning in his eyes but leashed for the moment. He didn’t look at Jungkook again, though the promise in his glare lingered, unresolved.

The light flickered. Just once. Long enough for the shadows to shift and creep closer before snapping back into place.

“They’re afraid of the light,” Y/N said quietly.

She crouched near Leo, keeping her voice low and steady, meeting the girl’s wide, shaking gaze. “That means they don’t own us. Not yet.”

Leo nodded, though her hands still trembled in her lap.

Namjoon turned to Y/N, worry etched deep into his expression. “Can you find the way back?”

Y/N hesitated. Just long enough to be honest. Her eyes flicked to Jungkook, standing a few steps away, posture loose, shiv hanging casually at his side. He looked almost bored, the blade catching the dim light as if it belonged there.

“No,” she said. “I can’t. But he can.”

Every gaze shifted to Jungkook.

He met them easily, unbothered by the attention. The corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smirk, the kind that suggested he’d known this moment was coming.

“You’re trusting him?” Lee snapped. “After he pulled a knife on me?”

Jungkook tilted his head, studying him with cool amusement. “You’re welcome to take your chances in the dark if you’d rather.”

Lee started to answer, but Namjoon cut him off with a raised hand.

“That’s enough.” His voice carried weight now. He looked at Jungkook, searching his face. “Can you lead us back? Honestly.”

The smirk faded. Just a little. Jungkook straightened, something serious surfacing beneath the casual exterior.

“I can,” he said. “But it won’t be easy.”

“Nothing about this is,” Y/N replied. She stood, brushing the dust from her hands, decision sharp in her posture. “But it beats waiting here to die.”

Uneasy looks passed between them, quick and unspoken. The decision settled in the space like a physical weight, heavy enough to bow shoulders and tighten jaws. No one believed this was safe. No one believed it would be easy. But it was movement, and movement meant they were not surrendering yet.

“Fine,” Lee said at last. The word came out rough, scraped raw by resentment. “But if this goes sideways, don’t expect me to save your ass, Trash Baby.”

Jungkook’s mouth curved into a thin smile, colder than before, stripped of anything playful. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He pushed off the wall and stepped forward, sliding the shiv back into his belt with the kind of ease that came from long habit. The light stuttered overhead again, briefly dimming, but no one commented. Their attention had narrowed to the single, fragile idea that moving forward was better than waiting to die.

“Let’s go,” Y/N said. Her voice didn’t waver.

Jungkook took the lead. His stride was unhurried, deliberate, as if he were following marks only he could see. The others fell in behind him, close and quiet, breathing shallow, hands wrapped tight around whatever weapons they had managed to salvage. No one spoke. The darkness pressed in on all sides as they moved, and for better or worse, they followed him into it.

© chimcess, 2025. Do not copy or repost without permission.

She didn’t turn right away.

Didn’t need to.

Because a second later—

warmth pressed in behind her, familiar and steady, and Noah’s hand slid along her waist like it had always belonged there.

“Miss me?” he murmured, his voice low against her ear.

Sloane smiled before she could stop herself.

“You’ve been gone for like… twenty minutes.”

“Long enough.”

His other hand found hers, fingers threading easily between hers as he pulled her back into him without resistance. The movement was natural. Unquestioned. Like it happened every time they were in the same space—which, most of the time, it did.

Sloane leaned into him, her head tipping slightly toward his.

“You’re dramatic,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” Noah replied. “You love it.”

She turned then, just enough to look at him.

He was already watching her.

He always was.

There was something about the way his expression softened when their eyes met that still caught her off guard, even now. Like no matter how long they’d been doing this—no matter how much time had passed—it never dulled.

“You’re staring,” she said.

“You’re here,” he answered.

Like that explained everything.

Maybe it did.

Sloane huffed a quiet breath, but her hand came up anyway, brushing lightly along his jaw before settling there for a second.

Then she leaned in.

The kiss wasn’t rushed.

Didn’t need to be.

It was familiar in a way that made everything else fade just slightly around the edges. His hand tightened at her waist, grounding her there, keeping her close like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon.

“Jesus, can you two not do that in the middle of the room?”

Jolly’s voice cut in from across the space, loud enough to break the moment but not quite ruin it.

Sloane pulled back just enough to glance over Noah’s shoulder.

Jolly stood near a stack of cases, shaking his head with a grin that said he wasn’t actually annoyed.

“Do what?” she asked, completely unbothered.

“That,” Folio added from somewhere behind him, gesturing vaguely between the two of them. “Whatever that is. It’s a lot.”

Noah didn’t move.

Didn’t step away.

If anything, his arm tightened slightly around her waist.

“Then stop looking,” he said easily.

That got a snort out of Folio.

“Hard not to when you’re literally in the middle of everything.”

Sloane rolled her eyes, but there was a smile sitting just under it as she shifted slightly, still close to Noah.

“You’re all just jealous,” she said.

“Of what?” Jolly shot back.

“Of this,” she replied, gesturing lightly between her and Noah.

That earned a laugh.

Even Nick, standing off to the side with his arms crossed, let out the smallest hint of one.

“You’re walking into a tour,” Nick said, his tone more grounded but no less amused. “You might want to pace yourselves.”

Sloane glanced at him.

“I think we’ll manage.”

Nick’s gaze held hers for a second, then nodded once.

“I know you will.”

There was respect in it.

Trust.

That mattered more than anything else he could’ve said.

Sloane felt Noah’s hand shift slightly at her waist again, his thumb brushing once along her side in a way that was absent but grounding.

“You ready?” he asked quietly.

That was different.

Not teasing.

Not light.

Sloane looked back at him.

Because this part—

This mattered.

“You’re asking me to take over your entire tour,” she said. “You really think I’m not ready?”

Noah’s expression didn’t change.

“I think you haven’t done it in a while.”

A beat.

“And I think it matters.”

Sloane held his gaze.

Because it did.

All of it did.

The work.

The time.

The distance it would create again if they weren’t careful.

“You know why I stopped,” she said quietly.

“I know,” he replied.

“And you’re still asking me to come back into it.”

“I’m asking you to do it with me.”

That—

That was the difference.

Sloane felt it immediately.

The shift in the way he said it.

The way it wasn’t about pulling her back into something she left.

It was about pulling her into something they’d share.

Her hand slid from his jaw to the back of his neck, her fingers curling there slightly.

“You’re making it really hard to say no,” she murmured.

Noah’s mouth curved just slightly.

“Good.”

She huffed a small breath, shaking her head.

Then—

“Okay.”

No hesitation this time.

“I’ll do it.”

Something in him shifted.

Not relief.

Something deeper.

His hand tightened slightly at her waist, pulling her closer for just a second before he leaned in, pressing another quick kiss to her lips.

“I’ve got you,” he said.

Sloane smiled softly.

“I know.”

From across the room—

Gabe watched.

He stood just outside the center of it all, one hand resting loosely against the edge of a case, his posture relaxed enough that no one would think twice about it.

But his eyes—

they stayed on her.

On them.

On the way Noah’s hand didn’t leave her.

On the way she leaned into him without thinking.

On the way everything between them looked—

easy.

His jaw tightened slightly.

Barely noticeable.

“They’re a lot,” Jolly muttered again, quieter this time.

Gabe’s mouth curved faintly.

“Yeah,” he said.

A beat.

His gaze didn’t move.

“They are.”

But there was something else under it now.

Something sharper.

Something quieter.

Because the way she smiled—

the way she looked at him—

the way she stayed close—

That wasn’t something Gabe could ignore.

And he didn’t plan to.

Not for long.