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5 years after Skyhaven
Caleb emerged from the tunnel like a ghost returning from the machine. After back-to-back deep space missions, Sky Haven felt less like home and more like a laboratory. He moved with the precision of the "cold-blooded Colonel" they had built, but beneath the surface, the machine was failing. A glitch in his deprogramming—a single, beautiful error—had restored his mind. For the first time in five years, his thoughts were his own.
His apartment was a tomb of preserved memories, kept spotless by a faceless cleaning crew. He played his part perfectly; if he stayed the "dutiful experiment," they would eventually grant him "rest." But Caleb wasn’t resting. He was hunting.
He could feel the mechanics humming under his skin—the infinitesimal vibrations of the city echoing in his ears. The chip used to redirect him whenever he thought of Love, a mental leash that snapped him back to attention. But he had paid his quota in blood and chrome. He knew how to hide from Ever now, in plain sight.
Panic set in when he realized five years had passed in what felt like months. Love was gone. Her lease was broken four years ago; she had vanished from the Hunter’s Association and the Linkon grid entirely. No address, no employer, but—thankfully—no death certificate. She had become a ghost.
His search led him to familiar faces. Tara remained tight-lipped but pointed him toward Dr. Zayne. In the sterile chill of the doctor’s office, Zayne’s composure was infuriating.
"She is alive and well," Zayne said, his voice like ice. "We meet for coffee and ice cream occasionally."
Jealousy flared in Caleb’s chest, sharp and hot. Zayne had always looked at her with that quiet affection, but Caleb took a grim satisfaction in the doctor’s wall of "patient confidentiality." If Zayne was citing oaths instead of claiming her, it meant he had failed to win her heart, too.
Xavier was no better. The hunter held her information like a classified weapon. Left with no choice, Caleb bypassed morality, cloning their devices to trace a single keyword: Love.
Three Weeks Later
The notification finally pinged. A traffic camera near Zayne’s office caught a flash of red.
Caleb tracked her through the winding streets of Linkon, his mechanical eyes filtering through the autumn haze. He found her through a coffee shop window. She looked healthy—stunning, even. Her hair was a short, elegant bob, and she wore a deep red pea coat that stood out against the graying sky.
He followed her at a distance into a park. His finger pressed against his ear, activating his internal audio sensors to catch her voice.
"How was he?" Love asked a woman on a bench. Her giggle—the same one that used to light up Caleb's chest—rang through his feed.
"Maddox was fine," the woman replied. "He did well today."
Maddox? Caleb’s internal processors whirred. Who is Maddox?
Then he saw him. A little boy, barely school age, with dark hair brushed neatly like a little gentleman. The boy charged toward Love, his small boots kicking up wood chips.
"Mommy! You brought my hot chocolate!"
The world tilted. Mommy? Caleb froze behind a tree, his mind racing through the possibilities. The dark hair, the upscale coat, the sweet tooth—had Zayne lied? Was this the doctor’s son? Or was the boy a living record of the time Caleb had lost?
He blinked, losing sight of them in the crowd. "No," he hissed under his breath. He couldn't lose her again. His eyes scanned the park, locking onto that brilliant shock of red moving through the trees.
There she was.
Caleb watched as the crowd parted like a curtain, revealing the duo by the duck pond. The boy was a blur of motion, skipping along the water’s edge while waving a disposable cup at the ducks. "Bye-bye, duckies! Stay warm!" His voice was high and sweet, the type of untainted kindness only found in children. Love followed him, her smile soft and indulgent as she paused to let Maddox "quack" one last time.
They crossed the stone bridge toward the parking lot, heading for a sleek, blacked-out car. As they approached, the driver’s door swung open. A man stepped out—taller than Caleb, broader, draped in a charcoal-grey coat that caught the autumn wind. His hair was a shock of silver, his eyes hidden behind dark shades.
Caleb didn’t need to see his face to feel the shift in the air. As Love approached, a slow, possessive smirk pulled at the man's lips. He opened the passenger door and waited.
"Daddy! You came!" Maddox shrieked, abandoning his hot chocolate to bolt toward the man.
He was scooped up effortlessly. Maddox wrapped his small arms around the man’s neck, burying his face in his shoulder. "Daddy, I missed you so much!"
The man ran a large, calloused hand down the boy’s back, a gesture of pure protection, and kissed his forehead. "I missed you too, Maddy. Good day?"
Maddox nodded vigorously, holding up his prize. "Very good. See? Chocolate!"
"I see," the man hummed, his voice a deep, resonant vibration that Caleb’s enhanced hearing picked up with agonizing clarity. "You definitely got the better end of the deal with Mama."
"I nego... negosilated! Just like you taught me!" Maddox beamed. Caleb leaned against a tree, his hands clenched so tightly in his pockets that his knuckles ached. His stomach felt like it had been dropped to his feet.
Love finally caught up, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to the man’s lips. "Hi, Sylus."
Caleb’s heart didn’t just ache—it burned. A cold, mechanical anger licked up his throat. It hadn’t been years for him. In his mind, it was only yesterday that he was the one holding her, kissing her with that same desperate "cannot-breathe-without-you" intensity.
Calm down. Keep the chip dark. Breathe.
Suddenly, the air grew heavy. Caleb felt the weight of a gaze before he even looked up. He focused his mechanical sight, and the world slowed.
Maddox wasn’t smiling anymore. The "cherub" was gone. The boy’s eyes—a startling, lightning-strike purple—were locked onto Caleb’s position. It wasn't just a look; Caleb felt a physical pressure against his chest, a telekinetic weight pinning him to the tree. The boy’s mouth was set in an unimpressed scowl, his small fist clutching his father’s lapel. He was sizing Caleb up with the cold, aristocratic disdain of a prince looking at a peasant.
Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the mask slipped. Maddox curled a strand of Love’s hair around his finger and chirped, "Mommy, it’s cold. Can we go in the car now?" His voice was sugar-sweet again, a perfect imitation of innocence.
As Love climbed into the car, the silver-haired man looked over the roof of the vehicle. His sunglasses were lowered just enough to reveal eyes that glowed a predatory red. The stare was a blade, cutting through the distance to find Caleb’s throat.
So that’s where the boy learned it, Caleb thought.
Sylus didn’t move, but the message was deafening: he was a sword and a shield, and he took no prisoners. He was a threat to anything that disturbed their peace. Caleb’s jaw tightened. Is he good enough for her? He already knew the answer. No one was.
Sylus settled into the driver’s seat, offering Caleb one last cocksure grin while Love checked Maddox's seatbelt from her seat, before pulling away. He knew Caleb had seen the plates. He knew Caleb had seen the boy’s face. He knew exactly who had returned from Ever—and he didn't look afraid.
Inside the car, Sylus reached over, interlacing his fingers with Love’s. "You look stunning." He kissed her knuckles, his eyes returning to the road with a dark, knowing glint. He understood the Colonel’s motivation. He knew what Caleb wanted.
Sylus hummed, a low, dangerous sound of anticipation. "Let the games begin."