Location: Lower Spire, Aegis — Emergency Maintenance Bay
The steel walls trembled under the distant thrum of battle. Somewhere above, the Forgotten's illusions had already begun clawing their way into the ship's systems, flickering shadows into the corridors. The bay smelled of oil, ozone, and faint blood — a cocktail of war.
Aeris stood against the cold railing, her chest rising and falling too quickly, her hands curled into fists. Her pulse hadn't slowed since they'd escaped the command deck ambush, and neither had Lucien's.
He was pacing — slow, controlled — like a predator caged in too small a space. His coat was unfastened, his shirt half-open from where she'd grabbed him earlier to keep him from falling.
"You're bleeding," she said finally, her voice low, almost accusing.
He stopped and looked at her, his dark eyes catching the emergency light. "It's not mine."
Her stomach knotted. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Act like you're made of steel when I know you're not." She stepped toward him. "You're human, Lucien. You can break."
He didn't move until she was close enough to feel the heat radiating from him. His gaze swept over her, lingering on her face, her throat, her lips — and when he spoke, his voice was rougher than she'd ever heard it.
"I'll break for a hundred reasons," he said, "but never for you."
She froze under the weight of it — of him. Then his hand was in her hair, cupping the back of her head, pulling her close until their bodies brushed. The tension between them was molten, born of too many close calls, too many unspoken confessions.
"I thought I lost you today," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "Do you understand what that would've done to me?"
Her fingers clenched in his shirt, feeling the solid beat of his heart under her palm. "I came back to you. I'll always come back."
"Don't say that unless you mean it." His hand slid lower, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw, tilting her face up. "Because I'll hold you to it."
The hum of the Aegis seemed to fade. All she could hear was him. All she could feel was the steady press of his body, the way his touch made her knees weaken. She didn't care that the walls were shaking. She didn't care that the ship might not see another dawn.
When his lips found hers, it wasn't gentle. It was the kiss of a man who had been holding himself back too long, who was tired of pretending war was enough to keep his hands occupied.
Her breath hitched, and she gave in, pressing into him, letting the heat and danger drown the fear. His arm locked around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she felt his restraint unraveling in the way his fingers gripped her.
"Lucien—" she started, but the word broke into a gasp when his mouth moved to her throat, slow and deliberate, tasting the skin like a promise he'd been aching to make.
"We shouldn't…" she whispered, even as her hand slid up the back of his neck.
"I know," he said, his voice dark and low. "But right now, I don't care."
Her back met the cold metal wall, his body a shield between her and the chaos outside. Every brush of his lips, every press of his hands was an anchor pulling her deeper into the one place she didn't want to escape — him.
And then, faint but sharp, the comm crackled.
"Section Four compromised. Repeat, Section Four compromised."
Lucien's forehead pressed to hers, his breath ragged. "I swear, when this is over—"
She smiled faintly, though her pulse was still a storm. "When this is over, you can finish what you started."
His eyes darkened, like the promise had just become law.
"Hold me to it," he said, grabbing his rifle. But as they ran, his hand stayed locked with hers — as if letting go now would be the real surrender.
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