Page 90 of Enslak

Charick closed the remaining distance to three meters, then two. The blade rose to catch the light. "I know you're hurting, brother," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I know you're suffering. I can see it." He glanced at his soldiers, seeing the same grief mirrored on their faces. "This is mercy. This is kindness. Let me give you peace."

The blade rose higher as his grip shifted, positioning for the killing stroke—quick and clean through the neck, taking my head in one strike. The warrior's death, honorable and final.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry we didn't find you sooner. That we couldn't save you."

Niki threw herself between us—not hesitant or afraid, but moving like a storm. Small and human and absolutely immovable. She planted herself directly in front of me with her arms spread wide, her body a shield between me and the blade.

"No!" Her voice cut across the clearing, sharp and clear and uncompromising. "Back the fuck up! You are not touching him!"

Charick stopped, surprise flickering across his face as the blade wavered.

"Detective Nguyen. Step aside. This doesn't—"

"Like hell it doesn't!" She didn't move, didn't flinch. Just stood there facing down a Vaktaire warrior twice her size—armed with a blade that could cut her in half—and she didn't back down even a centimeter. "He's not broken. He's not lost. He's not some dying animal that needs to be put down. He's a person. He's your brother. And he's healing."

"Look at him," Charick said, his voice gentle but firm. "Really look at him, Detective. He's dying. He can barely stand. He can't even speak—"

She took a breath, her chest heaving as tears streamed down her face, but her voice remained unwavering. "He speaks. He laughs. Every day he remembers more. Every day he becomes more himself. He knows who he is. He knows who you are. He's not gone, Charick. He's here."

"His mind—"

"His mind is intact!" Niki's hands clenched into fists. "Yes, there are gaps. Yes, there are things he doesn't remember yet. But that doesn't mean he's broken beyond repair. That doesn't mean he deserves to die. You can't kill someone for not healing on your timeline. You can't murder your brother because he's taking too long to become the person you remember."

Charick's jaw tightened. "This isn't murder. This is mercy. Can't you see he's suffering?"

"Of course he's suffering!" Niki's voice rose. "He just fought off fifteen Ulkommenians to protect me! He's covered in blaster wounds! But suffering doesn't mean he needs to die. It doesn't mean you get to make that choice for him."

"He can't make that choice for himself," Charick said, uncertainty creeping into his voice. "Not in his condition."

"Then ask him!" Niki gestured at me while never taking her eyes off Charick. "Ask him if he wants to die. Ask him if he wants you to end it. Go ahead. Ask."

When Charick's eyes shifted to me, I saw the question there—the terrible, necessary question. But I couldn't answer. My vision was graying out, my legs giving way. I was going down, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

"Enslak!" Niki spun around, catching me as I fell. Her small body somehow supported my weight as I collapsed to my knees. "Stay with me. Please stay with me."

I tried—God, I tried—but the darkness was pulling me under.

"You see?" Charick's voice came gentle and heartbroken. "He's going. Let me end it quickly, before—"

"No." Niki's voice came out fierce even as she cradled my head against her chest. "No, you don't get to do this. You don't get to take him from me."

Charick moved closer. "Detective Nguyen. I understand you've formed an attachment, but—"

"An attachment?" Niki's laugh came bitter and sharp. "Is that what you think this is? Stockholm syndrome? Misplaced gratitude?"

She looked up at him, and even through my fading vision, I could see the fire in her eyes. "He's a person, Charick. Not a broken thing you get to put down because it's easier than watching him fight. He's remembered his brothers. He's learned to speak again, one word at a time, clawing his way back through hell to get there. He carried me through sewers when he could barely stand. He killed a dozen soldiers tonight to keep me breathing. That's not the absence of a mind. That's a man choosing to live."

Her voice dropped, quieter now, but no less fierce. "There's something between us. Something I don't fully understand, and I don't think he does either. But whatever it is, it doesn't make me the one who gets to decide his future. It doesn't make either of us qualified to end his life because it's inconvenient or frightening or hard to watch."

Her grip on me tightened, her fingers digging into my shoulder like she could hold me here by will alone. "So if you want to kill him, you're going to have to go through me. And I promise you, brother of my mate—" the word caught, uncertain, like she wasn't sure she'd earned the right to say it yet, "—I will fight you with everything I have. I will make you earn every step."

Charick stared at her, the blade trembling in his hand. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Then don't hurt him," Niki said, her voice absolute. "Put down the blade. Step back. Give him the time he needs. Give him the chance to decide for himself what happens next."

"And if he doesn't heal?" Charick asked quietly. "If this is all he'll ever be?"

"Then that's his to live, not yours to end," Niki said, her hand stroking my hair with a gentleness that contrasted the fire in her words. "I'll stay with him. I'll care for him. I'll give him every single day he has left to become whoever he's going to become. But I won't let you kill him. Not now. Not ever."