Page 36 of Traitor For His Heir

He steps closer—not touching, but close enough that the air between us feels charged.

“You do not regret it,” he says softly.

I swallow.

“No,” I admit.

The word settles heavy and undeniable.

Outside the viewport, stars drift silently across endless black. Inside the cruiser, the projections flicker with cold forensic light.

“So what now?” I ask.

“We gather proof,” Kael replies.

“And accuse an Alliance admiral of fabrication?” I challenge.

“If evidence leads there,” he says evenly.

“That’s suicide.”

“It is necessity.”

I stare at him, at the burn still healing across his shoulder, at the steadiness in his posture despite everything.

“You’re impossible,” I mutter.

“I have been told,” he replies, a faint edge of dry humor in his tone.

Despite myself, the corner of my mouth twitches.

Then I look back at the screen where my face still hangs beneath the word TRAITOR.

There is no career to salvage.

No reputation to defend.

Only the truth.

“This wasn’t a spark thrown at a species,” I say quietly, watching the twin waveforms pulse in the air. “It was a blade aimed at you.”

“Yes,” Kael answers.

“And I stepped between it.”

His gaze softens just slightly.

“Yes,” he says again.

The realization lands fully now—not abstract, not theoretical, but real.

I didn’t derail a war.

I interrupted an assassination.

And I did it because something in me refused to let him fall.

The engines hum steadily around us as deep space swallows the last trace of Virex Station.