NOVEL NEXT Chapter 37
Aster paused the video, her fingers lingering on the wristband screen as it flickered off with a soft *beep*, plunging the medic room back into a heavy stillness. Syn glanced up from Vera's neatly bandaged arm, his hands still smoothing the edges of the gauze, his brow creasing as a question gnawed at him. "How was the camera working if the ship was powered down?" he asked, his voice low, tinged with a cautious curiosity as he wiped his hands on his pants, the faint hum of the backup generator barely audible beneath his words.
Aster tilted her head, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulder as she shot him a look that danced between amusement and exasperation. "The medic room's got a backup generator—basic sense, Syn," she said, her tone a playful jab, as if his question were a child's stumble in a game he should've mastered. She leaned against the bedframe, her arms folding with a casual confidence that belied the tension still simmering in the air.
Syn huffed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he turned away, his gaze drifting to the stabbed shapeshifter slumped in the corner—its green skin a sickly sheen, its white eyes staring blankly, blood pooling dark and congealed beneath it. Dead, no threat now. He let it lie, shifting his focus to the other two unconscious impostors, their forms still humanoid but fragile under the belts he'd scavenged from Pako and Vera's earlier bindings.
He tightened the straps, his fingers deft but weary, the weight of the day pressing into his shoulders. "You should call your crew," he said, his voice steady as he glanced at Aster. "Get these shapeshifters locked up—I'm hoping these are the last of them."
"That cunning bastard of a King," Aster growled, her fists clenching as she pulled her wristband closer, tapping out a quick summons. "He'll regret this—mark my words." Her voice was a low, venomous promise as she relayed orders—cleanup crew to the medic room, stat—her eyes glinting with a fire that hadn't dimmed despite the night's toll.
"I hope these are the last," Syn murmured, his hand brushing Pako's cheek, her face softened in sleep, her usual spark dimmed by the anesthesia. "She's cuter when she's quiet," he added, a light smile flickering across his lips, a rare softness breaking through his guarded shell as he traced the curve of her jaw, her breath a faint warmth against his fingers.
The door hissed open, a sharp intrusion into the quiet, and a squad of pirates barged in—boots thudding, heavy cuffs clanking in their hands, taser guns humming faintly at their belts. They moved with grim efficiency, dragging the shapeshifters away, their green limbs dangling as they were hauled toward the prison hold. Another team followed, silent and swift, mopping blood from the floors, scrubbing stains from the walls, their rags streaking red across the sterile tiles. Syn watched, his reluctance a quiet ache—he didn't want to leave Vera and Pako, not with the specter of another shapeshifter still lurking in his mind, a possibility as cold as the air Aster's trap had conjured.
"Aster, you go ahead," he said, his voice firm as the cleanup crew filed out, the room returning to a sterile calm. "I'll stay here for a bit—keep an eye on them."
Aster paused, her hand on the doorframe, her broad frame silhouetted against the corridor's dim glow. "…Okay," she replied after a beat, her tone softening into something uncertain, her eyes lingering on him. She took a few steps toward the exit, her boots scuffing faintly, then stopped, turning back with a sudden pivot. "Why'd you even leave us if you still care about us?" Her voice cracked through the silence, sharp yet fragile, a question that had festered in her—and Pako and Vera—for years. What had driven him away so abruptly? Was it their fault, a misstep they'd never seen, or something darker pulling the strings?
Syn was caught unguarded with her question. His gaze dropped, his shoulders hunching as he turned his head aside, the weight of her words pressing against a wall he'd built long ago. "…" Silence was his shield, a barrier he couldn't—or wouldn't—breach, his jaw tightening as he stared at the floor, the sterile tiles blurring beneath his unfocused eyes.
"Your silence is annoying," Aster said, her voice hardening with frustration, her steps thudding closer as she crossed the room. She stopped before him, her hands reaching out to grip his shoulders gently, her touch a tether pulling him from his retreat. "Was it my fault?" she asked, her tone softening into a gentle plea, her tall frame bending as she tried to catch his downcast gaze, her blonde hair spilling forward like a curtain.
Syn's head hung lower, his eyes fixed on the floor, evading her search with a stubborn stillness. "No," he murmured, the word barely a breath, soft and fleeting as he tilted his head to the side, his voice a quiet concession that carried no conviction.
Aster's grip tightened, her frustration flaring as she straightened, her hands sliding down to his arms. "…" She wasn't convinced, her silence a storm brewing, and with a sudden surge, she scooped him up, lifting him off the floor in a swift, startling motion. Syn's breath hitched, a yelp caught in his throat as she carried him to the empty bed beside Vera, her strength a whirlwind he couldn't resist. She laid him down, the mattress creaking beneath his weight, and before he could scramble free, she climbed atop him, straddling his thighs with a fierce determination. Syn pushed against her, his hands pressing her shoulders, but she caught his wrists, pinning them together with a grip like iron.
"Stop—calm down!" Aster snapped, her voice a sharp command laced with a plea as Syn jittered beneath her, his body trembling with a mix of exhaustion and resistance. "I won't do anything—just relax." Her hold softened, her eyes locking onto his, and Syn stilled, his struggles fading as he met her gaze, his expression weary, drained by the night's chaos and the weight of her question.
"It's really not your fault," he said, his voice steady now, a quiet truth as he forced his eyes back to hers, then away again, drifting to Vera and Pako's sleeping forms. "It's just… personal…"
"Don't look away," Aster said, her tone a blend of harsh demand and desperate entreaty, her hands tightening briefly on his wrists before easing off, her thighs still bracketing his. "Talk to me."
Syn hesitated, his gaze flickering back to her, a storm of reluctance swirling in his chest, but no words came—only silence, a wall he couldn't scale. Aster's jaw clenched, her frustration simmering as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a raw murmur. "At first, I thought we'd kidnapped you against your will," she said, her breath brushing his cheek as she spoke.
"You did," Syn interjected, his tone flat, a blunt fact cutting through her narrative, but she pressed on without pause.
"But then you saved our people—twice now," she continued, her eyes glinting with a mix of awe and confusion. "You don't hate us, despite the Kingdom. Things are settling faster than we dreamed—you're already one of us. It feels too good to be true." Her thighs clenched around his, a reflex of her rising emotion, her voice trembling as she leaned in, her face inches from his. "Even now, as you struggle, you stay silent—carefully mindful not to disturb Pako and Vera's peaceful sleep. You still care."
Syn's breath caught, her words a mirror to his own tangled heart, but he held his silence, his eyes locked on hers, searching for an escape he couldn't find. Aster's grip softened, her hands sliding to rest beside his head, her weight a steady presence as she hovered over him. "Was it because I'm the King's daughter?" she asked, her voice a fragile thread, her eyes pleading for an answer, a crack in the armor she'd worn since his return. "Is that why you don't trust me?"