The Wraith floated in low orbit over Delta Black, its systems humming in a rare, restful rhythm. For the first time in weeks maybe longer there was no red alert, no hostile frequencies, no immediate crisis looming on the edge of the radar.
Inside the ship, something stranger than silence had taken root.
Peace.
In the captain's quarters, Elara lay awake beside Aeron, her head resting against his chest, listening to the soft rhythm of his heartbeat. One of his arms curled loosely around her back, the other tangled in the white streak of her hair.
Neither of them spoke.
They didn't need to.
For the first time, their silence didn't feel like avoidance. It felt like understanding. Like the kind of closeness forged not in explosions or last stands, but in the quiet that follows survival.
"You're really warm," she murmured at last, eyes half-lidded.
Aeron gave a sleepy chuckle. "Genetic enhancement. Thermal regulation."
