The second drone had been persuasive. "If you don't come in, I'll walk out there myself. Alone. While patients could need me. Do you want that on your conscience?"

  Mia scowled at the message, more tired than angry. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of another demand. "Emotional bckmail," she muttered, raking a hand through her tousled hair.

  Asrell hummed in agreement, his voice dry as a desert breeze. "A good tactic. Efficient. Correctly calibrated for guilt response. I approve." There was an edge of amusement to his words that made Mia's scowl deepen.

  She sighed and pulled on her jacket, the worn fabric clinging to her like a second skin. It still smelled faintly of grease and ozone.

  By the time she made it into town, the twin moons were high overhead, casting long shadows across the dusty streets. Veltryn was its normal enormous view in the night sky. The town was settling in for the night, and the only business still open was The Rooks, its lights fully on and the sounds of music and drinking muted.

  When she made it to the clinic, she saw that the main entrance was dark, the door locked tight. She groaned, kicking at a pebble. Of course, it was closed. Typical.

  She knew Dane was out by the shuttle bay, patrolling the perimeter with that measured, predatory gait of his. Avoiding him seemed wise. Instead, she knocked on Elian's private door above the clinic. It took a moment, but the door slid open with a soft hiss.

  Elian smiled softly, leaning against the doorframe. Even in the low light, his eyes were warm. "You came."

  He was barefoot, dressed in loose, soft white pants and a light shirt wrinkled at the hem. He looked...comfortable. At ease in a way Mia hadn't seen before. The harsh lines around his eyes had smoothed, making him seem younger.

  She hesitated only a second before stepping inside, crossing the threshold. There was no going back now.

  The pce was modest but inviting. An open floor pn with soft lighting and a sense of calm that seeped into Mia's bones. Pnts lined the windowsill, filling the air with a faint green scent, and there was a pot on the stove releasing tendrils of herbal fragrance.

  Mia nodded, stepping further into the space. "Didn't want you hiking across the ridge." Her tone was light, but her gaze missed nothing, cataloging every detail.

  Elian waved her toward the couch with a gentle sweep of his hand. "I appreciate that. Sit. You okay with tea?"

  She blinked at him, thrown by the offer. "Coffee?"

  He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding toward the kitchen corner with a rueful smile. "Coffee maker's dead. Been meaning to repce it, but Lena's always got some excuse about requisitions or parts."

  Mia eyed the sad little machine, taking in its dented casing and frayed cord. "You miss it?"

  "Only every morning," Elian chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Moozy keeps me going with his brew. Best cup on the moon. And his eggs-on-a-bun? Near-religious experience."

  The corner of her mouth curved upward in a fleeting smile. It surprised them both, that tiny shared moment of levity.

  He invited her to sit on the couch and he sat in the chair across from her. He tried getting a commitment from her about the full physical, but the conversation kept shifting. Elian noticed her deftly dodging any real answers to his subtle medical questions, so he followed her lead. He began talking about himself instead—his past, his war years.

  "I met Dane on Pilian-2," he said, leaning against the armrest. A faint smile pyed across his lips as memories resurfaced. "It was a med post. He barreled into me, chasing a pickpocket. We went down in a mess of limbs and elbows. I thought he was going to punch me right then and there."

  "You're... not describing the Dane I know," Mia muttered, her brow furrowing slightly.

  Elian's smile turned fond, a wistful look in his eyes. "He was rough, but not as sharp-edged then. Still had hope in those days." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "His homeworld had already seen some of the worst of the war by that point. He'd enlisted for his brother's sake—joined the Gen-7 sym-enhancement program. Stratos Vale Engineering promised he would be stronger, faster, and Dane thought maybe he could protect him this time."

  Mia stilled, her gaze fixed on Elian's face as he spoke. The words weren't just stories—they were confessions, glimpses into a past she hadn't known.

  "But a few months after Dane was modified, he got the news—his brother was dead. Dane hadn't been told, but his brother was still coscripted to join the military and he was sent into the dead zone. They were just cannon fodder and distractions. There hadn't even been an extraction pn. Just like that he was gone." Elian's voice was steady, but there was a weight behind each word, a solemnity that hung in the air. "He didn't take it well."

  A humorless chuckle escaped Mia's lips. "Did anyone?"

  "No," Elian said softly, shaking his head. "But Dane... he turned everything inward. Didn't rage. Didn't cry. Just hardened himself against the pain. Became the soldier they wanted—efficient, ruthless." He swallowed hard. "For a while, I think he forgot how to be human."

  He paused then, lost in the memories for a moment before continuing. "But he found me again, eventually. I didn't chase him—he came to me. After a botched raid, covered in blood, some of it not his own. He looked at me like I was the only piece of himself he could still recognize." Elian's gaze grew distant. "He didn't even ask to talk. Just... curled up on the infirmary floor next to my cot. We didn't speak for hours, but I stayed with him through that long, silent night."

  Mia gave a delicate yawn. She wanted to know more about Elian's history with Dane, but the warm comfort of Elian's home was settling into her bones like a soothing balm. She felt safe here, with someone who she just knew wouldn't hurt her or judge her for her past transgressions.

  Mia started to quietly shift during the story, curling up on the couch, using her bag as an improvised pillow beneath her head. The gentle cadence of Elian's voice lulled her into a sense of security she hadn't felt in years.

  Elian kept talking, his voice going softer as he noticed Mia's eyelids growing heavy. He knew that for Mia to rex like this, to let her guard down even briefly, was an incredibly rare occurrence. He wasn't going to mess it up by being too loud or moving too abruptly. "So Dane and I, from that point on, we just kept circling each other in this strange dance. He is my best friend, the person I'm closest to in this world, my heart," he said wistfully.

  Her eyes closed fully, and he saw her breathing ease into the rhythm of sleep, her body finally allowing itself to fully surrender to the exhaustion she must feel constantly.

  Elian rose quietly and fetched a soft bnket, draping it gently over her slumbering form. "And that's how I apparently put women to sleep with my riveting war stories," he murmured, amused at himself but touched by her trust.

  He didn't know how long he stood there watching the slow rise and fall of her chest, studying the peaceful expression on her face, so different from the haunted look she wore when awake. He committed this rare, unguarded moment to memory.

  When Dane returned ter, quiet-footed and grim from a long patrol, he stopped short in the doorway, his eyes immediately locking on the couch and the sleeping woman lying there. On Virelli.

  Elian appeared from behind the privacy screen, drying his hands on a towel after cleaning up. He didn't flinch at the stormy expression on Dane's face, already knowing what was coming.

  "Why is she here?" Dane asked, the words a low rumble of disapproval.

  "Because I asked her to be," Elian replied evenly.

  Dane crossed his arms over his broad chest, jaw clenched. "You don't just ask people like her into your personal space, El."

  "No," Elian agreed calmly. "I don't, as a rule. But I am making an exception."

  They stared at each other for a long, tense moment, Dane's eyes boring into Elian's with an intensity born from years of brotherhood and unspoken communication.

  Dane started to pace slowly around the table, fingers tapping once against the back of a chair as he passed. "Yesterday, I told you to be careful. You said you would." He stopped, turning just enough to meet Elian's gaze again. "And now, not even a full day ter, she's asleep on your couch."

  He shook his head once, jaw tightening.

  "She's a terrorist," he said at st, quietly but firmly, as if saying it again might anchor the reality in pce.

  Elian's jaw clenched at the accusation, his shoulders squaring. "Everyone on this moon is damaged in their own way, Dane. All of us have had to do things to survive that we aren't proud of. Don't you dare pretend she's the only one with blood in her history, or act like you're free of sin yourself."

  "And you think what she's some wounded stray you can fix up and make better?" Dane shot back, his voice rising slightly with frustration. "She tried to 'fix' this pce before and nearly burned it to the ground in the process."

  "She's not broken," Elian snapped, his voice tight with frustration. "She's exhausted. Haunted and alone. And trying to hold herself together, with tape and spit." His eyes fshed as he jabbed a finger at Dane. "And you, of all people, should understand that."

  A faint ctter came from the living room, like something small being knocked over. They both froze, turning toward the couch where Mia had been sitting, feigning sleep.

  It was empty. The bnket y in a crumpled heap on the floor.

  Elian moved quickly to the window, peering out into the dim alleyway. It was open, the curtain fluttering in the night breeze.

  Outside, a shadow rounded the corner—there one moment, gone the next, swallowed by darkness.

  He exhaled slowly, raking a hand through his curls. "Dammit. She must have heard us."

  Dane's jaw tightened, his expression unreadable. "She heard?"

  "I don't know if the words," Elian murmured, turning back to face him. "But enough to know we were talking about her." He shook his head, mouth a grim line. "That girl's been through too much already. The st thing she needs is to feel like she can't trust us."

  They stood in tense silence for a long moment, the weight of unspoken truths hanging between them. Mia's return had cracked open old wounds, dredged up memories, and doubts that still festered after all these years.

  Finally, Elian reached out, taking Dane's calloused hand in his own and giving it a firm tug. He pulled the other man down the hallway, pushing him gently onto the bed with surprising strength.

  "You're sleeping in the damn bed tonight," he muttered, already stripping off his shirt. "I'm not arguing with you anymore."

  Dane blinked up at him, momentarily wrong-footed. "Is this...a punishment?"

  "No," Elian said with a tired ugh, sliding in beside him. "I just don't want to talk anymore tonight." He reached over, cupping Dane's cheek and meeting his gaze intently. "I want this."

  Dane felt the fight go out of him, shoulders slumping as he leaned into Elian's touch. "Feels like a punishment," he mumbled, but the edge was gone from his voice.

  "Then shut up and take it like a man," Elian murmured, pulling him close.

  Dane grumbled under his breath, but didn't resist as Elian's arms encircled him. They y there in the quiet, bodies pressed together, fingers brushing and tangling beneath the bnket. The tension slowly bled out of them both, leaving only a weary intimacy in its wake.

  Neither said it aloud, but both were thinking the same thing—that despite their doubts, their broken pasts, that haunted girl was going to change everything. For better or worse, their lives had been upended once more.

  And this time, they didn't know what y on the other side.