Chapter 35: The Shadow of Kane

Vykhor stopped just in front of Evelyn, locking eyes with her, his gaze burning with a cold fury. He said nothing for a moment, letting the silence weigh heavily on everyone around them. Then, he slowly turned his head toward the rebel lying on the ground, stifling a growl. “He should’ve thought twice before putting his hands on her,” he muttered, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

The rebels, frozen by the scene, quickly stepped back, forming a respectful circle around the duo. Evelyn, still in shock, felt a warm, firm hand wrap around her wrist. It was Vykhor, lowering her arm gently before murmuring just loud enough for her to hear, “You’re with me. No one will touch you. Ever.”

As the tension from the earlier incident slowly began to fade, the party gradually resumed. The music—a strange mix of rhythmic percussion and softer melodies—once again floated through the air, accompanied by the hum of lively conversations and bursts of laughter from the rebels. Evelyn, still a bit shaken, had distanced herself from the crowd, seeking a moment of respite. She leaned against a pillar, observing the festivities with a mix of relief and exhaustion.

Vykhor never strayed too far, keeping a close watch on her from a distance, his golden eyes tracking her every move like a patient predator. He said nothing, but his mere presence was enough to ground her, to remind her she wasn’t alone.

After a few minutes of quiet, Evelyn finally felt her body relax, her breathing settling into a steadier rhythm. The party’s atmosphere grew lighter, fueled by alcohol and the overwhelming sense of victory.

That’s when Skye, already well into her drinks, decided it was time to put her plan into motion. Tapping her fingers on the rough wooden table, a mischievous glint in her eyes, she shot a knowing look at Rax, who sat across from her with his arms crossed, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"Please tell me you’re joking," he groaned, taking a sip from his glass.

"Not at all, dear Rax," Skye replied, leaning back with a smug smile. "It’s time to force Vykhor to admit what’s blatantly obvious."

Rax rolled his eyes.

"You want to mess with Vykhor Kael’seth—the most stubborn Kael’tarien in the galaxy—to make him admit he has feelings?"

"Exactly."

"You want to mess with Vykhor."

"You got it."

"You… want to mess with Vykhor."

Skye sighed in frustration.

"For fuck’s sake, Rax, stop repeating it! Yes, I want to mess with him!"

"And you want me to help?"

"You catch on quick."

Rax lifted his gaze to hers, deadpan.

"Skye…," he leaned in slightly as if revealing a terrible secret, "do you have a death wish?"

"Oh, come on, idiot. I just want to have a little fun."

"You want to 'have fun' with a possibly jealous and ultra-protective Kael’tarien?"

"I’m just going to… push him a little. Provoke him. Get him to react."

"…You have a death wish," Rax repeated, shaking his head.

But Skye was already tuning him out, her gaze locked onto Vykhor, who, as always, remained on the outskirts of the crowd, his eyes never straying far from Evelyn—like a predator guarding its territory. Evelyn, completely unaware of Skye’s scheming, was chatting casually with a rebel, oblivious to the plan brewing against her assigned Kael’tarien.

A grin stretched across Skye’s lips.

"Watch closely, Rax. I’m going to make the great Kael’tarien crack."

Rax shrugged.

"Go ahead. But don’t expect me to pick up the pieces when he shreds you."

"Pff, he wouldn’t hurt me."

"Oh yeah? You forget what he did to the guy who got a little too close to Evelyn earlier?"

Skye winced. Minor detail.

She stood up, clapped Rax on the shoulder, and strolled toward Vykhor with the grace of a predator on the hunt.

Vykhor immediately sensed Skye’s approach. His golden gaze settled on her with a patience that was almost unsettling.

"What do you want, Skye?" he asked in a flat tone.

"Oh, nothing special, Vykhor," she replied, feigning innocence. "Just wanted to congratulate you on your incredible ability to ignore the obvious."

"The obvious?"

"That you’re dying to rip Evelyn away from that conversation and keep her by your side."

Vykhor said nothing. He simply stared at her with that chilling intensity that would have made anyone else back down.

But not Skye.

"You know," she continued, savoring each word, "if you don’t do something, someone else might. Evelyn is brilliant, charming, and incredibly attractive. One day, another man will notice… and she might just notice him too."

She wasn’t expecting an explosive reaction—just something, anything. A furrowed brow, a glare, a low growl…

But Vykhor just stared at her, expressionless.

Then, slowly, he lifted his glass, drained it in one gulp, and set it down.

"And?" he said icily.

Skye blinked.

"Uh… what do you mean, 'and'?"

"I want to see how far you’re planning to take this little experiment."

Shit.

He was turning it around on her.

"Well, I think you should do something bold, a clear demonstration," she stammered, trying to regain control. "You could… I don’t know… pull her into your arms in front of everyone, tell her how you feel…"

Vykhor raised an eyebrow.

"That’s your plan?"

"Yep."

"You want me to hold Evelyn, right here, right now, and make some grand romantic declaration?"

"Exactly!"

Vykhor nodded slowly.

Then he stood up.

The massive Kael’tarien turned, glancing at Evelyn still deep in conversation, then back at Skye.

He took a step toward her.

A shiver ran down Skye’s spine.

"Wait, Vykhor…"

Second step.

"It was just a joke…"

Third step.

"You know what, I changed my mind. Do whatever you want, no need to get mad…"

Fourth step.

"NO, REALLY, YOU DON’T HAVE TO KILL ME FOR THIS!"

Vykhor stopped right in front of her, towering over her.

"You wanted me to make a bold move, Skye?"

"Uh…"

Suddenly, he grabbed her arm, lifted her effortlessly like a sack of potatoes, and unceremoniously tossed her into a pile of cushions beside the rebels’ table.

A stunned silence filled the room.

Then a chuckle.

Then two.

Then the entire room exploded in riotous laughter.

Skye, hair tousled, sprawled among the cushions, saw the amused glances aimed at her.

"Vykhor, you’re such an asshole."

The Kael’tarien crossed his arms, his expression still unreadable.

"Maybe. But I’m an asshole who doesn’t get manipulated."

Rax, laughing uncontrollably, helped Skye up.

"You were right, Skye, foolproof plan."

Skye shot him a murderous glare… then burst into laughter herself.

"Okay, okay, fine, I admit defeat."

But as she dusted herself off, she cast a sly glance at Vykhor and Evelyn.

Maybe she had lost this battle… but the war wasn’t over yet.
Vykhor leaned against a pillar, away from the commotion, watching Evelyn from the corner of his eye. The night was winding down—at least for them. He didn’t need a second glance to see that exhaustion was catching up with her. Her body, still bearing the marks of the mission and her wounds, seemed to grow heavier by the minute. Her eyelids fluttered closed briefly at times, and she was struggling to fight off the sleep that was creeping up on her.

It was when she stifled a discreet yawn, trying to hide it behind her hand, that Vykhor made his decision. Enough lingering.

With steady steps, he approached her, deliberately ignoring the bursts of laughter behind him. He didn’t stop until he was standing right in front of her, towering over her with his imposing presence.

“Evelyn, we’re leaving.”

She blinked up at him, still somewhat caught in the festive atmosphere.

“Huh? But the party—”

“Is over for you,” he cut her off firmly. “You’re exhausted.”

Evelyn opened her mouth to protest, but he didn’t give her the chance. With a motion that was both resolute and authoritative, he placed a hand on the small of her back and gently but firmly guided her toward the exit, leaving her no choice but to follow.

Behind them, Skye and Rax burst into laughter, watching them go.

“Too bad, Evelyn, you didn’t stand a chance!” Skye teased, clearly amused.

“When he makes up his mind, not even an explosion could change it,” Rax added, raising his glass in salute as they left.

Evelyn shot them a look that was equal parts exasperation and resignation, but Vykhor didn’t slow down. He could feel the warmth of her body against his, faint but comforting. She might not like being handled like this, but he didn’t give a damn about her protests. Her well-being came first.

They walked through the cool night, the sounds of the party fading behind them. The flickering torches and shifting lights cast moving shadows around them, creating a strange sense of intimacy. Vykhor remained silent, but his mind was anything but.

Skye’s words from earlier in the evening echoed in his head.

"Admit it, Kael’tarien. That human’s got you wrapped around her little finger, huh?"

He hated giving her any credit. But he couldn’t deny what was becoming clearer with each passing day. Evelyn consumed his thoughts. Not just because of her extraordinary intelligence or her unwavering loyalty. He wanted her—completely. And he knew better than anyone just how dangerous that kind of feeling could be.

She was beautiful, too much so for her own good. Her kindness, her generosity… it would make her a target. One day, maybe, another man would try to take her from him. He could already picture some stranger approaching her, charming her, whispering sweet promises in her ear. The mere thought was unbearable.

Evelyn was his.

He felt his jaw clench despite himself. He was not a patient man. Nor was he the kind of man who let go of what was his. And Evelyn, whether she realized it or not, belonged to him.

Their tent came into view. He tightened his grip on her ever so slightly.

Yes. He wouldn’t let anyone take her from him.

**Somewhere in the Galaxy**

The air was thick, heavy with the scent of alcohol, burnt metal, and sweat. The common hall of the Gorgone, a smuggler ship as massive as it was rundown, was packed with rowdy space pirates celebrating after their latest raid. Credits had flowed freely, stolen military supplies had been sold on the black market, and their fuel tanks were full. For the first time in a long while, they could afford to breathe.

Jonathan Kane sat in a dark corner of the room, observing the scene with cold detachment. Since fleeing the ruined base, he had abandoned his uniform, trading his military attire for something more neutral. But his mannerisms, his posture, the way he assessed every person in the room… everything about him still screamed soldier.

He hadn’t had much of a choice but to join this crew. In a galaxy where he had no resources and no allies, he would’ve been hunted like an animal by his former employer. But here, aboard the Gorgone, he had found a temporary refuge, a place to carve out for himself among these criminals and outcasts.

The ship’s captain, Rogan Vael, a one-eyed giant with gray skin and luminescent tattoos, dropped into the seat across from him with a predatory grin.

“You look deep in thought, Kane. Still not ready to tell us what made you ditch your cushy military life for the pirate trade?”

Kane smirked slightly, but his gaze remained icy.

“I’ve learned one essential truth, Vael. Rules only matter to those who can afford to believe in them. And I lost that luxury.”

The captain threw his head back and laughed, flashing sharp, filed-down teeth.

“Well said! That’s how you survive out here. Betray before you get betrayed. Strike before you get struck.”

Kane nodded but didn’t fully agree with that philosophy. He wasn’t just some opportunist. He had a goal. A singular purpose.

Vykhor and Evelyn.

He wasn’t actively hunting them. He had other priorities—strengthening his standing within this crew, making himself indispensable, and waiting for the right moment to reclaim control of his fate. But deep down, he knew: if their paths crossed again, he wouldn’t let the opportunity slip away.

He hadn’t forgotten the humiliation he had suffered, the death sentence hanging over him because of Evelyn Ashcroft. Because of that damned Kael’tarien.

“We got a new job, Kane,” Vael announced, pouring himself another drink. “A convoy ripe for the taking in the Arkanis sector. You up for a little fun?”

Kane picked up his own glass and raised it slightly.

“If it means killing a few soldiers and taking what’s rightfully ours… why not?”

The captain bellowed another laugh, slamming his fist on the table.

“Ah! I like the way you think!”

The pirates around them went back to their drinking, oblivious to Kane’s sharp gaze scanning the room.

He knew that one day, he’d have his revenge. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a year. But the universe was small, and he didn’t plan to spend the rest of his life running.

The next time he crossed paths with Evelyn Ashcroft and Vykhor Kael’seth…

He’d make sure it was them who were running.