Chapter 93: Saving Jonathan Kane

**Iskaara – Main Camp Tactical Dome**

The cold blue light of the holographic interfaces bathed the room in a glacial glow. Rax was typing without a word, his eyelids twitching as lines of code scrolled at a terrifying speed.

Then... the alert came.

"Encrypted call," he announced.

"Source?" Skye asked, already drawing her weapon by reflex.

"Sector Z-47. Old signature, but verified."

He looked up.

"It's someone named Kane."

Silence froze everyone.

Zeynn, who had been absentmindedly chewing a protein bar, stopped mid-bite. A dark gleam passed through his golden eyes. He smoothly climbed down from the beam where he’d perched, claws brushing the metallic floor.

"That son of a…" he muttered.

"You know him?" Skye asked, surprised.

Zeynn nodded slowly, jaw clenched.

"Yeah. That bastard used me as bait on the Gorgon to trap Vykhor and Evelyn."

He shot a glance at the latter.

"And she risked her life to get me out of there."

Vykhor said nothing, arms crossed, eyes locked on the still-black screen.

The message activated suddenly, without warning. The image flickered, the transmission full of static. Jonathan Kane’s face appeared—thinner, worn. A hunted man.

"Vykhor. Evelyn."

He didn’t need to say more to be instantly hated.

"I know I’m the last person you expected. The last one you want to hear from. And believe me... I didn’t think I’d ever call you either."

He ran a dirty hand down his face.

"I made a mistake. I thought I could survive his wrath. Hide."

He inhaled deeply.

"But the Master doesn’t forgive. Especially not when it involves you."

Zeynn growled from the corner, thinking of Marn Sevil.

"He’s right about that," he murmured. "The Master holds a grudge like death itself."

Kane continued:

"I know you have no reason to trust me. But I have something to offer: information. And a newfound will to take him down."

His features hardened.

"I didn’t betray the Master that day. I just… got scared. Scared of what he’d do if he found out you escaped. So I ran."

A set of coordinates appeared on screen.

"He’ll find me soon. I don’t have much left to lose. But you— you still have a chance. A real one. And I’ve seen enough to know he sees you as the key."

His eyes locked onto the camera.

"So come. Or don’t. But if you want a chance to understand what he’s planning… I’m all you’ve got."

Transmission ended.

Silence fell once more.

"You want us to go?" Skye asked Vykhor softly.

He stared at the dark screen for a few more seconds. Then:

"We’re going."

Zeynn’s eyes widened slightly.

"Seriously? After what he did?"

"Yes. Because this time..."

Vykhor placed a heavy hand on the young Nytherian’s shoulder.

"...you’ll never be bait again."

**Iskaara – Tactical Room, Pre-Jump to Z-47**

The screens displayed a map of Sector Z-47: a vast abandoned asteroid field on the edge of an unstable star system. An old drilling station lay dormant there, eaten away by vacuum and forgotten by trade routes. Perfect for a trap. Perfect for an extraction.

Vykhor, standing near the central table, reviewed approach routes and cover points. His movements were precise, confident, his voice low and calm. The entire pack stood around him.

"Rax, you’ll hack the local frequencies before we exit hyperspace. If someone else is there, I want to know before we touch down."

"Already scanning sublayers, boss," the cyborg replied without lifting his eyes.

"Skye, high ground. Pick your platform and work your scope. If it moves, you shoot first."

"As always," she grunted, smirking. "I’ll take turret three. Clear view and fallback angle if things go sideways."

"Evelyn, you stay in the rear with Zeynn and Blue. If it’s a trap, I want someone guarding our backs."

"Understood," she said, voice soft but firm.

Zeynn nodded too, saying nothing. He was pressed close to her, seated on the bench just beside her, shoulder brushing hers. His eyes were on the map—but not really seeing it.

Vykhor watched him from the corner of his eye.

The young Nytherian had never done this before. He, the loudmouth, the agile one, the fierce feline who usually clung to ceilings when stressed… now sat still, anchored to Evelyn like a frightened child.

And Evelyn? She said nothing either. But her hand rested on Zeynn’s thigh, unconsciously placed there. She wasn’t even looking at him, but she was shielding him. Without even realizing it.

A familiar chill swept through Vykhor.

He knew that gesture. He’d seen it once—on his own mother, back when he was just a Tav’kin barely trained to survive the imperial court.

Maternal instinct. Clear. Pure. Unavoidable.

And Evelyn didn’t even realize it.

But he did.

His jaw tightened—not with anger, but with something sharper: pride. And perhaps… fear. Because Evelyn would stop at nothing for the ones she loved. And to love was to risk.

"Vykhor?" Rax called. "Flight path is locked. We jump in three hours. Want us to prep the armor?"

"Yes. Light for Evelyn and Zeynn. Heavy for me and Blue. Skye, your choice."

"Going mid-range. I like surprises," she replied.

Zeynn, still close to Evelyn, finally muttered:

"That bastard’s gonna pay… for the Gorgon."

Evelyn looked down at him, surprised by the grave tone. But she simply tightened her hand on his thigh a little more, silently.

Blue, curled up near the entrance, opened an eye. As always, he had heard everything. Understood everything.

Vykhor finally placed both hands flat on the table.

"Gear up. This is an extraction. Not revenge."

But his eyes lingered one last time on Zeynn.

"And this time… we’re all coming back together."

**Unknown Location – Sigma-Veil Observation Complex**

The room was vast, circular, lined with floating monochrome displays. A faint bluish light filtered through analysis domes. Surveillance modules rotated silently, tracking data streams, thermal signatures, communication flows, tactical patterns.

At the center, alone and motionless, stood the Master.

Hands clasped behind his back, tall frame cloaked in black. No cape. No flair. Just a functional outfit built for a man whose every thought was a calculated move. His gaze was fixed on a central holo-wall—his emissary’s report. Floating in the air, in glowing letters, a phrase he read over and over:

"Marn Sevil: confirmed kill. Tech retrieved. Evelyn Ashcroft present. Intense emotional reaction. Vykhor Kael’seth also present."

He tilted his head slightly.

"Emotional… really?"

He brushed the interface, switching the image. A video recording. Blurry, but enough: Evelyn leaning over Marn, her face twisted with pain. The cry she let out wasn’t rational. Not strategic. Not coldly useful.

He almost smiled. Almost.

"You’ve grown, Evelyn…"

He paced, hands still behind his back. Around him, more images rotated: the Narak’Tharr, Zeynn, Skye, Rax, Blue. The pack. That chaotic, unpredictable, emotional unit.

The exact opposite of what he’d intended to create.

"...but not the way I planned."

His voice was calm. Like a blade dipped in water.

A holographic assistant appeared.

"Trajectory analysis?" he asked.

"The ship is currently located on Iskaara. No unusual movement detected."

"Wrong. If they’re stationary, they’re preparing."

He closed his eyes. Behind his lids, no rage, no panic. Just icy certainty. He knew Evelyn. He knew Vykhor. He had anticipated that the chaos he sowed would eventually spark resistance. He had foreseen disobedience. Considered alliances. But he had also set a trap. A long-term plan.

"They’ll come. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not this week. But they will."

He reopened his eyes. Steady. Unblinking.

"Evelyn still belongs to me. She’s incomplete without me. What they think is freedom... is just a temporary illusion."

He turned toward another observation pod, where one of the defective prototypes lay dormant—an error. A lesson. A warning.

"She’ll return. Because she’s my creation. And I always finish what I start."

The Master slowly pivoted toward the shadows. His own silhouette stretched and swallowed the room. On the screens, Vykhor’s figure appeared in a new sequence. Training. Brute force. Instinct. Resolve.

The Master barely raised an eyebrow.

"Then come, Kael’seth. Show me what your pack is worth… against Order."

And he exited the room, already moving his next pieces across the board.