My pulse thudded against his palm, erratic and terrified.

He leaned in.

"You believe you are in a position to bargain?"

The words weren't loud. They didn't need to be.

His claws brushed the delicate line of my throat-more of a promise than a threat. His grip was unwavering. Not forceful, but unyielding. There was no room to escape.

No illusion of control.

His lips parted again, and I expected words. A warning. A mockery. But what came wasn't human.

"Va'shien tora val'aresh sai drokth mal'retha..."

(You offer yourself without thought... is that how your kind survives?)

My heart stumbled. The words meant nothing. Harsh syllables. Strange rhythm.

Alien. Incomprehensible.

The air shifted around them like the words had weight, like they bled power.

"W-what...?" I rasped, but his gaze didn't soften.

Did he not understand me today? Or was he choosing not to?

His thumb pressed harder into the pulse at my neck. My lungs screamed for air, for understanding. For anything that made this moment make sense.

"Krienn dash'va sen'thra. Volk'tai sha drien."

(You burn so quickly... but not for me. That is the most unsettling phenomenon.)

He tilted his head, watching me like I was a puzzle he was slowly pulling apart. His claw slid down my jaw, tracing the line of my throat. The touch chilled me-but it didn't repulse me. And that terrified me more.

"Please..." I whispered, trembling. "What are you saying?"

But his words kept coming, alien and low, curling around me like a spell.

"Thal morien'tai kavaresh. Sael'ren dha sorian..."

(You would give yourself to another? Let them touch what is not theirs?)

I flinched, not from the words-I couldn't even comprehend them-but from the sharp twist of his tone. It cut through the unknown like a blade. His voice no longer calm. It dripped fury. Something darker.

My breath came in short bursts. The language, the way he looked at me, the cold coil of his presence-none of it made sense. It was too much.

"Stop..." I choked. "I don't understand-"

"Sa'ven drokk'tai."

(You think your body is yours to offer.)

His grip tightened again, cutting off my air completely for a terrifying moment before he suddenly released me.

"It is not. It never was."

I collapsed, my knees slamming into the floor, gasping, coughing, my body trembling with the shock of it. The room spun, my vision blurred with unshed tears.

Above me, the fucker loomed.

"I should kill you," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "For thinking you had a choice."

I choked back a sob, clutching my throat, struggling to steady my breath.

He crouched, his face now level with mine. Clawed fingers gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him.

His fingers digged into my jaw, hard enough to sting.

A shiver ran through me.

"You do not beg for another. You do not offer yourself." His voice deepened, alien, something unnatural twisting beneath it. "You do not crawl before anyone but me."

And then, without another word, he stood and turned, his movements as fluid as a predator losing interest in its prey.

"The ceremony continues," he said, his voice flat, final as he left me.

He walked out of the hall, his movements fluid and graceful, leaving me crumbled there, trembling, my heart pounding in my chest.

I sat there alone, frozen, waiting for the inevitable punishment, but it never came. The ceremony was over. Shraddha was gone, claimed by Pitchovas.

A sharp voice cut through the thick silence like a scalpel. "Ruby," Councilor Elara's voice rang out-clear, cold, commanding.

I turned my head, "You've crossed a line," she said, her voice taut with fury barely concealed beneath polished restraint. "Do you even realize what you've done?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

"You touched an Admiral, Ruby." She stepped forward now, her heels clicking against the polished floor, each step deliberate. "On an active Zypherian vessel. During a sanctioned Rite. You disrupted sacred protocol. You violated treaty terms. You disrespected two governments."

Her eyes narrowed, voice dropping. "Do you understand the magnitude of your ignorance?".

"I-I was just trying to-"

"Save her?" Elara snapped. "You endangered every human on this ship."

"You're not a rebel in a drama, Ruby," she continued, voice like a scalpel. "You are human, Ruby. On a Zypherian warship. And right now, that's barely above being cargo.

Humans weren't saved due to kindness or they felt that it was the right thing to do. Do you understand that?We're here because of that." She flung a hand toward the ceremonial platform-where Shraddha had just been led away like a lamb.

"The Zypherian Pairing Initiative," she spat. "That's the only reason the human race is even on this ship. That Rite-that trade of bodies for peace-is the fragile thread keeping us from extinction."

I shook my head. "That's not peace-"

"It's survival!" she snapped.

Her voice cracked-not with weakness, but the sound of someone holding back a scream.

"You think I don't hate this? That I don't burn every day watching our daughters bartered for treaties? But if we didn't comply, Ruby-if we hadn't agreed to Pairings-then we would have died with earth."

Elara looked down at me, her face tight, but her eyes... her eyes shimmered with exhausted rage.

"And now, thanks to your little performance, the Zypherian High Council is already murmuring about 'instability.' About emotional fragility. About whether they made mistake "

"They aren't gods," I whispered.

"No," Elara said softly. "They're worse. They're indifferent. Do you know what that means, Ruby? They won't kill us because they're cruel. They'll kill us because we're inconvenient."

She stared down at me like I was something fragile and dangerous all at once. "Do you know what Zypherian law dictates when a non-bonded touches an Admiral without consent?"

I didn't answer. Couldn't.

"Execution, Ruby. Immediate. No trial. No appeal."

My stomach dropped.

There was a brief silence before she added, even colder, "If the Admiral had chosen to crush your windpipe-none of us could have intervened. You would've died.

I was shaking, trying to speak, but the words wouldn't come.

"This isn't Earth," Elara said, turning away. "And you are not above the laws that protect us."

She stepped back.

"Guards," she said flatly, "Place her in Zypherian Detainment Protocol 3. She will report for physical labor at 0600. She will complete six standard cycles of labor duty-plasma conduit scrubbing, chamber filtration, shaft decontamination. No exosuit. No comfort.

She turned and added, "Let her learn what survival feels like without sentiment."

And I stayed there-knees on cold metal, throat raw, future erased-realizing for the first time;

This wasn't about right and wrong.

It was about who would be allowed to exist tomorrow.