CHAPTER 10

The commander's office still clung to Ren's skin as he left it, Reed's words gnawing at him long after the door closed behind him.

"If the captain happens to want you… do not put up a fight."

The command had been delivered so casually, like it cost nothing. Like offering Ren's body to Axton was the same as trading away a ration of grain. Reed hadn't even looked at him when he said it.

Ren's fists clenched until the knuckles cracked. He had risked his life—walked through desert heat, fought through wounds, stared death in the face—only to be told his body was a bargaining chip. He wanted to scream at Reed, spit in his smug face, but all he did was walk out in silence, jaw tight, rage boiling in his chest.

Axton's name was poison in his blood. The thought of his silver eyes, the way he stood—immovable, inescapable—made Ren's throat tighten. If Axton wanted him… No. Ren would rather burn than give in.

He shoved the thought away and quickened his pace, cutting through the worn-out corners of Base7. Leaves, brittle from drought and neglect, scattered under his boots as he ran toward the infirmary. Every step carried a single, desperate thought.

Mira.

He was almost there when a shadow stepped into his path.

"Look who returned to the base. The Faction's hero is back," Zarek sneered, his voice carrying the smugness of a man who thought he had won. His nose was still bandaged, the stitches raw and crooked.

Ren halted, then sighed, letting his gaze slide over Zarek with calm disdain. "You should leave, Zarek. You might lose your nose completely this time." His voice was quiet, even, more dangerous than any shout.

Zarek's lips peeled back in a grin. Once, long ago, they had been friends. Now, all that remained was venom. Ren remembered the pride in Zarek's eyes the day Reed had chosen him as a soldier, the arrogance that had replaced loyalty. Pride had made Zarek cruel, and cruelty had turned him into this—an enemy wearing the same uniform.

"I wouldn't be so cocky just because you managed to succeed in a little mission," Zarek drawled, stepping closer.

Ren didn't move. After standing before Axton, Zarek was a shadow of a threat, a puff of smoke. "Little?" Ren stepped into Zarek's space, his hand clamping onto the soldier's shoulder with deliberate force. "I brought back a thousand serums. I bargained with the captain himself. I cut deals with both sides and dragged this base back from the brink of beastification. So no, Zarek—nothing about my mission was little."

He leaned closer, voice dropping until it was ice. "On a scale of preference, I come before you. Before me, you're just a puppet in a uniform. A shockwave absorber. Fuck off my face."

With a sharp push, Ren shoved him aside and kept walking.

"Drop your hands, Zarek."

The command came from behind them, low and firm. Reed.

Ren spun, his eyes widening at the sight of Zarek's trembling hand gripping a gun, barrel pointed squarely at Ren.

"I said, lower your hands," Reed's voice carried the weight of command.

Zarek's jaw worked as if chewing on fury, but at last he obeyed, lowering the weapon to his side.

"Carry on, Ren," Reed said, his eyes unreadable.

Ren held Zarek's glare for a long moment, a thousand unsaid promises of retribution passing between them. Then he turned, shoving the encounter from his mind as he continued toward the infirmary. Behind him, Reed's voice ordered Zarek to follow.

The moment he opened the infirmary doors, the stench hit him. Blood. Urine. Sweat soaked in fever and sickness. The air was thick, heavy, clinging to his lungs. He moved carefully through rows of bunks, the sound of coughing and wheezing echoing from every corner, until his eyes found the only thing that mattered.

Mira.

She was curled on her side, her body frail, her skin pale as bone. Her lips were cracked, her eyes sunken, her chest rising in shallow, rattling breaths.

Ren dropped to his knees beside her bunk, his voice soft as he reached out. "Mira."

She stirred faintly, a groan slipping past her lips.

"Mira, it's me. I came back. I brought the serums," he whispered, brushing damp strands of hair from her forehead.

Her eyes blinked open slowly, unfocused, heavy. When they finally found him, they did not light with recognition. Instead, her cracked lips parted, and she rasped, "My brother is dead. I don't have a family."

Ren's chest caved inward. He shut his eyes tight, fighting the sting. The virus wasn't just killing her body—it was stripping her humanity piece by piece.

But even if she could not remember him, even if the disease ate away at her mind, he would not abandon her. He stayed crouched, whispering to her everything he could—his journey, the desert, the deals, the risks. Words she might not understand, but words that tethered him to her, a promise spoken into the void.

Finally, his voice dropped to a whisper, almost a vow. "That's why I need to take your blood, Mira. I have to get the captain to trust me. Only then can I keep sending serums to the base."

He pressed a trembling kiss to her hand before slipping out the syringe and vial Corvin had given him.

"It'll prick a little," he murmured, almost apologetically, as the needle slid into her vein.

Her blood oozed dark and sluggish into the vial. She barely flinched, too weak to protest, too numb to feel the tiny invasion. Ren's chest ached as he withdrew the syringe, pressing his thumb gently over the puncture.

He slipped the vial into his pocket, hiding it like a guilty secret, then tossed the syringe into the pile of discarded needles littering the floor. Just one more piece of trash among many. No one would ever know.

"It's time to leave, Ren."

The voice snapped him upright.

Reed.

Ren turned slowly, throat tight, as the commander stood in the doorway with Jacob at his side, the medic's kit already in his hands.

"Go, Ren. Your sister will be treated, as promised. You have only a few hours until midnight. I don't want mistakes." Reed's eyes locked onto his, cold and sharp.

Ren wanted to argue. Wanted to demand proof. To demand he watch the serum slip into Mira's veins with his own eyes. But Jacob was already moving toward her, and Reed's tone left no room for questions.

So Ren only nodded, his voice quiet. "Okay."

He leaned down once more, pressing a lingering kiss to Mira's fevered forehead. "I'll see you again, Mira… and you'll see me, too. Hopefully. Goodbye."

He straightened, forcing his feet to move, bowing his head to Reed as he passed.

But once outside, the shadows welcomed him like old allies. He slipped into them without hesitation, heart pounding with a new resolve.

Reed thought him a pawn. Axton thought him prey. But Ren was neither.

He would save Mira. He would carve his own fate.

And before the night was over, he would have his hands on Reed's documents.