Chapter 66: A New Pack

Vykhor’s golden eyes narrowed, cold as the glaciers of his homeworld.

“You know who wants her?”

“Not yet. Too many aliases, too many relays. But this much is confirmed: the price is high. High enough for an elite hunter to abandon their post on the Frontier.”

A muscle twitched in Vykhor’s jaw.

“If any of them touches her, I’ll bury them all.”

Silence. Then a dry chuckle came through the comm.

“That’s the Kael’tarien I remember. Just tell me if I need to alert my people.”

“Not yet. I want to see how far they’ll go.”

“You’re playing with fire.”

“I am the fire.”

He cut the connection.

And stood still for a moment, gaze fixed on the shifting shadows of the market.

The Master was still out there, lurking in the dark. And now that Zeynn had entered the picture—now that a new piece had joined their unlikely little pack—Vykhor knew the rules of the game had just changed.

He headed back down, his thoughts already on Evelyn, on Blue, on the Nytherian boy. On this strange thing he was building without meaning to:
a family.

And in his heart, forged from fire and ash, one word echoed with renewed strength:
My’Lari.

**Sector 8 – En Route to the Extraction Shuttle**

With the immediate threat behind them, Evelyn leaned against a metal wall to catch her breath. The group moved through the back alleys of the black market, following coordinates Kryna had sent for a discreet pickup at the perimeter.

Vykhor led the way, alert and silent. Blue padded at his side, ears low, nose twitching at every shift of air. And Zeynn followed a few steps behind Evelyn, still shaken, but sharp as a young predator waking up to his instincts.

Evelyn ran her fingers through her dyed hair, now graying at the roots. The disguise had served its purpose. She ducked into a shadowed recess and removed her tinted lenses, then pulled a small vial of solvent from her pocket. A minute later, her white hair shimmered once more.

Zeynn, focused until now on their escape, caught her gaze.
He froze mid-step.
“Your eyes…”

Evelyn gave him a soft look, her icy blue irises glowing faintly in the dim light.

Zeynn parted his lips, unable to look away. “You’re not just smart, huh. You’re…”
He searched for a word that belonged to him.
“Differentia,” he murmured in his native tongue. Different. Singular.

A shy smile curved Evelyn’s lips.
“And you followed me without asking questions. That counts too.”

Zeynn dropped his gaze briefly, caught off guard. He wasn’t used to that kind of trust.

They kept walking. Evelyn zipped up her black jumpsuit, no longer bothering to hide anything. Vykhor glanced back when he saw her shed the last pieces of her disguise. He said nothing, but a near-satisfied smirk tugged at his lips.

Blue sniffed the air, then nuzzled Evelyn’s palm, as if to say this is better.

The shuttle was close now. A pale glow shimmered at the end of the empty corridor.

“As soon as we lift off, we cut all comms and follow the priority route back to the Narak’Tharr,” Vykhor murmured into Kryna’s internal channel.

But in that exact moment, Blue stopped short.

Ears perked.
Throat rumbling.
And Vykhor knew: the calm was over.

The shuttle was in sight. Barely twenty meters away.

But Blue growled louder, his claws scraping the floor in warning. Vykhor stopped dead, tension rolling off him like a tide. Evelyn felt it instantly.

A chill ran down her spine.

And Zeynn—light on his feet—froze like a feline sensing the shift in the wind.

“Trap,” Vykhor whispered, pupils narrowing as he scanned the hangar’s shadows.

They were not alone.

In a blink, the floodlights flared on. Harsh white light flooded the space.
All around them, armed figures stepped out of hiding—heavily geared mercenaries, masked and well-coordinated.

But not coordinated enough to face a Kael’tarien.

“Surrender, Evelyn Ashcroft,” a voice boomed through an amplifier. “You are a classified asset.”

Evelyn’s breath caught. An asset.

That was the wrong thing to say in front of Vykhor.

The Kael’tarien raised his right hand. His prosthetic clicked as it shifted into advanced combat mode. The energy lines along his arm lit up, glowing a searing red.

“Wrong choice of words,” he growled.

Blue lunged.
Zeynn followed half a second later, faster than a flash, claws bared.

Evelyn ducked behind a crate, pulling a small emitter from her belt and tossing it skyward. A cloud of micro-drones erupted, creating a shimmering fog that confused the attackers. She activated her protective bracelet, casting a defensive field around herself.

Chaos erupted.

Vykhor moved like a storm—precise, brutal. His prosthetic crushed weapons, shattered armor. He wasn’t just defending.

He was punishing.

Blue, still young but fiercely protective, leapt and weaved between enemies, slashing, growling, shielding Evelyn like a miniature bodyguard.

Zeynn, quick as a whip, darted between legs, climbed crates, landed on a merc’s shoulders and zapped him with a stolen shock module.

“To the shuttle!” Evelyn shouted once they punched a hole through the enemy lines.

Vykhor landed a final blow, sending a merc flying into a wall, then motioned to Blue.

Zeynn sprinted up the ramp, followed by Blue and Evelyn. Vykhor brought up the rear, muscles taut, eyes cold, senses razor-sharp.

The shuttle took off with a deep roar, under enemy fire.

Kryna took over remotely. Shields raised. Evasion protocols engaged.

In the cockpit, Evelyn sat on the floor, breath ragged. Blue pressed against her side, his body still vibrating with tension. Zeynn wiped sweat from his brow, eyes gleaming with adrenaline and something like awe.

And Vykhor… silent.

But his hand settled on Evelyn’s shoulder.
You’re safe now.
He didn’t have to say it.

She knew.

**Hangar Bay – Narak’Tharr**

The shuttle touched down smoothly in one of the Narak’Tharr’s secondary hangars. As soon as the ramp lowered, Vykhor stepped out first, sweeping the area with his usual vigilance—even here, on his ship.

Zeynn paused on the ramp, wide-eyed. The Kael’tarien vessel was dark, metallic, almost ominous… but there was something else. An energy. An organization. A presence that made the silence feel alive.

“You swipe this thing from a military fleet or something?” he muttered to Evelyn, clearly impressed.

Evelyn chuckled.
“Not exactly. But almost.”

Barely had they stepped aboard when Evelyn shifted into storm-mode. She motioned for Zeynn to follow and spoke aloud—more to herself than to anyone else.

“We need to assign you a cabin. There’s a small one near the secondary medbay. Cramped but functional. We can set up a fold-out bed, maybe some shelves—”

“A what?” Zeynn blinked, trailing behind her.

“Don’t ask. Just keep up. When she’s like this, you’ve got two choices: run or die,” Vykhor muttered behind them, Blue gliding by with the elegance of a conquering feline. He occasionally glanced at Zeynn as if to say you sure you wanna do this, kid?

In the secondary quarters, Evelyn turned to the Nytherian, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“We’ll need to find you some gear. Something that fits your frame, your agility… What are you, like five-foot-one? No, wait—not with the ears.”

“I’m not some fancy house cat, you know,” Zeynn grumbled, arms crossed.

“You’re a Nytherian. Fascinating species! I’ve been compiling known traits from xenobiological records but there’s so little reliable data. So tell me, Zeynn, what are your abilities? Night vision? Spatial sense? Wall-climbing? Feline empathy? Retractable claws?”

Zeynn blinked.
He hadn’t even figured out where he was sleeping, and now he was part of a full scientific inquisition.

“Wow. You want my DNA too while you’re at it?”

“Not until tomorrow,” Evelyn answered dead serious.

Vykhor leaned against the wall, arms crossed, letting out a low amused grunt.
Watching Evelyn like this—mind racing, eyes alight—it was addictive. A soft addiction he had no interest in resisting.

He turned to Zeynn and, in a flat tone, said:

“Welcome to the pack. You survived the shuttle. Now you have to survive Evelyn.”