Helena’s weak, wobbling head turned. She was barely clinging to the edges of her sanity, and the agony of her cauterized shoulder was still burning in pain from the aftermath.

She looked at Chronos, who was reacting to the Zerg’s actions strangely. She followed Keres’s forelimb, watching where that jagged edge was tapping.

Helena saw Chronos’s mouth fold at the corners. He looked like he was agonizing over something more precious than his own life.

Chronos was holding his breath, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw muscles visibly tightened. But he was also consciously regulating every muscle back to normal after every known change.

Seeing him make an extra effort to maintain his indifferent expression, Helena felt like there was something that no one should know, at least not at this moment, and Chronos was desperately hiding it from everyone.

Helena took one long moment to stare at Chronos.

Then, her eyes suddenly widened.

The puzzle pieces clicked into place.

Helena realized that regardless of the mask Chronos wore, regardless of what gender he claimed or what identity he projected, the truth was written in his protective posture.

Chronos wasn’t just guarding his life. He was guarding the life he was currently bearing within his belly.

"Zero," she whispered. Her voice was soft, breathless. "Oh, Zero..."

Chronos didn’t notice.

Rather, he couldn’t.

Because Chronos was locked in a state of terror, for his life and for the unborn baby in his belly.

His gaze was fixed on Grayson. He was preparing himself to be the sacrifice, waiting for his General to make the choice like he always did.

Grayson’s gaze flicked, briefly, to Helena. He saw her ashen expression, the way her eyes darted at Chronos with a crestfallen expression. He sensed the change in the room’s energy, but he didn’t understand it right away.

He quickly turned his attention back to Keres with a freezing cold expression.

"What do you want?" Grayson asked again.

This time, he didn’t just speak. He released a controlled, heavy, crushing wave of his Alpha pheromones. The air in the room grew thick in Keres’s direction but light in some parts around Chronos and Helena.

Keres took his time, unfazed by the pressure. Because this much wasn’t enough to take him down, unlike the one earlier.

"I just want to live," Keres said.

His tone was suddenly gentle, almost confiding, which made the words ten times more repulsive.

As he spoke, Keres performed a slow, sickening caress. He stroked the sickle-edge of his forelimb along the curve of Chronos’s belly.

It was a deliberate, lingering movement that traced the hidden secret beneath the fabric. He looked directly into Chronos’s eyes.

As he did it—a pretentious, courteous act of asking for permission for something he could forcibly do without effort.

EUCK!

Chronos almost vomited there and then, but managed to bite down hard on his own lower lip. He bit his lip so hard the skin split with a soft pop.

Blood beaded along the seam and trailed down to his chin. He didn’t make a sound as he felt the pain.

The cold sweat on his temples dripped into his eyes, making his eyelashes wet and heavy, but he refused to blink.

Don’t, his expression desperately conveyed, though he didn’t dare turn his head to look at the zerg holding him. Please. Don’t.

Helena turned her face toward Grayson so violently that the cauterized stump of her left arm jerked against Keres’s grip, causing a fresh jolt of agony that made her hiss through her teeth.

"Grayson," she rasped, her voice a jagged edge of panic. "Grayson, don’t—you can’t—!"

But Grayson didn’t understand what was going on.

To him, this was still a high-stakes standoff involving two of his best soldiers. He saw the Zerg’s gesture as a simple threat to Chronos’s vitals, a way to bait him into dropping his guard.

"Let them go," Grayson said, his finger tightening on the trigger of the plasma gun.

Keres’s mandibles chattered—crck-ck-ck as if to laugh at Grayson’s demands.

Keres leaned closer to Chronos’s ear, the jagged edges of his mandibles nearly brushing against Chronos’s pale skin.

"He doesn’t know, does he?"

Keres whispered in a way that seemed to crawl in Chronos’s skull. But it was loud enough for Grayson to hear.

"He thinks you are just some normal soldier prepared to die for the goodness of the people of the Imperial Galaxy. But..."

"Shut up!" Chronos snapped, twisting his head up to glare at the monster with ferocity. His voice was raw, a jagged edge of desperation.

Keres flashed a wide, sickening smile. He didn’t look at Chronos; he looked at Grayson, savoring the confusion written in the Alpha’s eyes.

Grayson narrowed his eyes and asked, "What are you talking about?"

Keres let out a rhythmic, chittering laugh—click-clack, click-clack.

"Do you really want to hear it from me, Grayson Maxwell? Are you going to believe your enemy, a zerg, if I say so?" he said, clearly baffled at this unexpected fact, "Or are you just genuinely clueless about something that everyone in this room already knew?"

"Leave or live?" Grayson asked, ignoring the bait. His voice was flat.

Which also meant: Do you want to drop them and fight me on the surface, or do you want me to put a hole in you now? Pick one.

Helena’s expression turned ghastly, a translucent shade that had nothing to do with her blood loss. She also understood what Grayson meant.

He was preparing to shoot and was calculating the "acceptable loss" of two soldiers to prevent a high-ranking Zerg from escaping.

Helena turned her head frantically, shaking it at Grayson with a look of terror.

No, Grayson. Not this time. You can’t.

But Grayson’s eyes were fixed on Keres. He was waiting for the exact millisecond Keres’s grip relaxed or tightened to deliver the killing blow and minimize the expected loss.

Helena took a deep, shuddering breath, her chest rattling with the effort. She mustered every ounce of her remaining strength, her voice a jagged rasp.

"Grayson! Listen to me!"

But before the words could leave her purpled lips, Chronos shouted hurriedly. "Don’t, Helena! Don’t you dare!"