Chapter 62: A Delicate Mission

The Narak'Tharr’s airlock opened with a familiar hiss, and for the first time in hours, Evelyn felt her heart begin to slow. The ship’s dim lights, the metallic walls, the soft hum of the engines… everything breathed safety, routine—home.

Vykhor stepped in first, scanning the corridor with his usual caution, though his shoulder betrayed a lingering tension. Evelyn trailed a bit behind, exhausted but upright, her mind still caught in the last simulation. Blue, ever watchful, entered with a solemn gait, as if ensuring the walls that sheltered Evelyn were still standing.

In the common room, Kryna manifested a soft welcome light.

“Biometric scan in progress… Three vital readings abnormal. Recommendation: hydration, rest, and a warm meal.”

Vykhor grunted. “You’re giving me orders now?”

“Always, Captain,” Kryna replied with a hint of programmed irony.

He removed his gauntlets and jacket, revealing the pale energy lines etched into his skin. Evelyn watched him, and despite her fatigue, a faint smile touched her lips.

“I’m taking a shower, then sleeping for two days.”

“You’ll sleep after I check your vitals,” he replied, already heading toward the med bay without looking back.

She could’ve argued, but… she didn’t have the strength, or the will. His commanding tone was almost soothing now. He was here. He had shouted My’Lari. He had protected her—again. And he was staying.

A few hours later, after a quick round of care and a warm meal improvised in the ship’s galley (where Blue begged and successfully scored an entire portion just for himself), Evelyn found herself lying in the cabin she now shared with Vykhor.

The warrior had spoken little since their return. He watched. As always. But when she laid her head on his shoulder, he didn’t move. More than that—he slipped a hand into her hair and let it rest there.

“I saw you, Vykhor,” she whispered. “During the fight. During the test.”

“I know,” he replied simply.

And in that shared silence, as Blue curled up at the foot of the bed with a faint purr, a strange peace enveloped the trio.

No simulations.
No trials.
No drones.

Just them.

The My’Lari.
The warrior.
The protector.

And in the shadow of an uncertain future, Griffin’s words still echoed:

"You’re going to do great things, Evelyn."

**Command Deck**

Two days had passed since their return to the ship. The tension of Mendark-9 had slowly ebbed, but not Vykhor’s vigilance. He stood before the mercenary network, arms crossed, eyes cold as ice as the blue glow of the screen flickered across his face.

Evelyn sat nearby, still noting encrypted details from Griffin’s last message. Blue sprawled lazily at her feet, purring softly… until a sharp beep pierced the room.

A priority contract had just arrived.

Mission classified: High Sensitivity — Anonymous request via secure relay.
Location: Tarlan V sector.
Objective: Infiltrate black market. Neutralize organizers.
Target: Sale of living beings. Bioweapons.
Final Note: One “scientifically exceptional” slave is up for auction. Description attached.

Vykhor clicked.

And the screen displayed… Evelyn’s face.

Brutal. Direct.
Silence fell like a blade.

Blue’s ears perked, a low growl escaping his throat. Evelyn froze—one second. Two.

“That’s… me?” she murmured, stunned.

The Kael’tarien didn’t answer right away. He rose slowly, the cold fury of his old self returning with surgical precision. His golden eyes hardened.

“They want you.”

Voice low. Calm. Murderous.

“And I suppose you’re going to say no,” she murmured, tension and defiance in her gaze.

Vykhor nodded. But not to decline the mission.

“I’m going to say we accept.”

His gaze locked onto hers.

“And that they’ll regret putting a price on your head.”

Evelyn’s heart raced. She was no longer just the scientist, no longer just the survivor of a lab. She was… a target. But this time, she wasn’t alone.

Vykhor pressed the button.

**Mission accepted.**

And somewhere in the dark…

Jonathan Kane smiled in the metallic shadows of his lair. His slave market was running at full throttle. The bets were open. The masks were off.

He had disposed of the Gorgon’s captain and turned its pirate crew into ruthless mercenaries.

But he didn’t yet know…

…that a pack was coming for him.

**Tactical Equipment Room**

The sharp click of a magazine sliding into a sidearm broke the room’s tense silence.

Vykhor stood over the equipment bench, methodical and precise. He checked every module, every round, every charge in his personal arsenal like a priest preparing sacred offerings. He wore his black combat attire reinforced with tactical plating.

Behind him, Evelyn approached silently. She wore her own gear now—tailored to her frame, her biomedical bracelet active. The other one—the one Vykhor had given her—was secured on her left wrist, a reminder of everything she had become.

“You’re tense,” she said softly, placing her hand on his forearm.

He didn’t respond immediately. Closed his eyes for a moment.

“They put you on a list,” he finally said, voice low, like saying it wounded him. “Like you’re some… commodity. Like you’re for sale.”

“Vykhor…” she breathed, touched by the quiet fury in his voice. He was calm, but she knew this calm. This was the eye of a storm.

“This Kane…” he continued, meeting her gaze, “…I’ll track him down. Crush him. Slowly.”

Evelyn didn’t answer. She simply rested her forehead against his chest—a gesture that, from her, said more than any long speech. He placed a hand at her nape, holding her as if she were something fragile. Precious. Yet his gaze never softened.

“This time, you stay behind me. Always. Got it?”

She looked up at him.

“You’ve said that before, Vykhor. And I’ve said this too: I may be your My’Lari, but I’m no shadow. I’m here. With you.”

A beat. Then the faintest smirk—feral.

“Then they’ll face us both.”

He held out his hand. Evelyn took it without hesitation. Behind them, Blue sprang up, his senses already alert.

The unlikely trio made their way to the bridge.

Destination: Tarlan V.

**Planetfall**

The planet Aethra IV was anything but welcoming. From orbit, it looked like a massive burned scar—a patchwork of industrial zones and anarchic markets, wrapped in atmospheric storms like molten chains. A world without law, perfect for a thriving black market.

And for this mission, it would become the perfect hunting ground for the shadows Evelyn, Vykhor, and Blue now embodied.

The Narak’Tharr began its descent, gliding through dense, red-tinged clouds. Evelyn stood beside Vykhor in the cockpit, feeling… different. She wore a matte leather coat reinforced with nanoweave, her face partially hidden behind a morphing veil. Her hair had been temporarily darkened, her eyes altered with lenses to appear amber. She was no longer Evelyn Ashcroft.

She was Nyra Vex—a quiet smuggler, sharp-minded, invisible to the network.

Vykhor, meanwhile, had leaned into his commanding aura. He wore a dark Kael’tarien light-armor, his right prosthetic hidden beneath a gauntlet etched with stylized mercenary sigils. His hair was tied back, his gaze colder than ice.

He was her shadow. Her shield. And her walking threat.

Blue, curled by Evelyn’s boot, wore a small harness fitted with analysis and stealth devices. He looked like a smuggler’s pet—or a bio-engineered mascot.

But in his eyes, sharp as a predator’s, burned a singular promise:

If anyone touched her…
He’d bite their goddamn face off.