Page 187 of Destined For Her Alien Daddy

It lives in what came after.

Ghar takes my hand. “We need to go.”

I nod.

Rolaev remains where she is, staring at the rupture.

“Rolaev ,” I say.

She does not move.

“Rolaev !”

Her eyes shift to mine slowly.

“If you stay, you die.”

Her voice is barely audible. “Perhaps that is appropriate.”

Ghar’s grip tightens on mine, but he lets me answer.

“No,” I say. “That is too easy.”

A flicker of anger returns to her face. Good. Anger is better than surrender. Anger moves.

“You do not get to die as a punctuation mark,” I tell her. “You want to atone, then survive long enough to be useful or be judged. I honestly do not care which one motivates you right now.”

Brakk shouts from the lower corridor, “I care a little, because we are leaving immediately!”

Sira extends one hand toward Rolaev . “Come or stay, but choose before the ruin chooses for you.”

Echo raises both not-quite hands.

The chamber steadies by a fraction. Floating rubble shudders into downward motion. Gravity returns badly, unevenly, but enough that my boots feel the floor with horrible gratitude. The rupture narrows around Echo, its pale form growing thinner.

“Carry carefully,” it says to me.

I look down at the shard. “That is the plan.”

“Plans are fragile.”

“Trust me, I have noticed.”

Echo’s almost-face turns toward something like a smile. “You are funny.”

“I am emotionally unstable.”

“Both.”

Ghar tugs gently on my hand. “Anita.”

We run.

Behind us, Rolaev moves at last. Not toward us exactly, but toward survival, which for now is close enough. The chamber tears open again as Echo folds its presence back into the rupture. White light floods the archive. The First One’s final gaze passes over us with regret, wonder, and bewildered affection.

Then its voice follows us into the collapsing corridor, soft as the first impossible accident that became everything.

“You made beauty,” Echo says. “That was not expected.”