Exodus Gamble

Kael didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Didn't breathe.

The words sat between them like a live grenade, waiting for someone to pull the pin.

"You die here, with the rest of them."

Leah had spoken them without hesitation.

Like they were fact. Like they were absolute.

Like she had already seen it happen.

Then—Kael exhaled.

A slow, measured breath.

The shift was subtle, but Leah felt it—the change in the air, in his posture, in the way his hand pressed just a fraction harder against the console behind her.

Something in his **silver eyes flashed—**a ripple of something dark and sharp.

Not fear.

Not shock.

No—this was something else.

Calculating. Dangerous.

A man deciding if he should cut his losses or take the bet.

"You're bold."

The words came low, smooth, laced with something close to amusement. But his expression didn't change.

Leah's smirk sharpened. "I'm right."

His gaze flicked over her—one cold, cutting sweep from her face to her stance to the way she still hadn't broken eye contact.

Then, his voice dipped—low, like the drag of a knife along flesh.

"Prove it."

Leah's pulse jumped.

She'd expected resistance. Expected doubt.

But not this.

Not an invitation.

Not Kael Orion Voss asking for proof.

She stepped forward.

Not much—just enough to make a point. Enough to shift the dynamic. Enough to remind him that she wasn't afraid of him.

Or at least—not afraid enough to run.

"You don't believe me," she said smoothly. Not a question. A statement.

Kael's smile was slow, edged with steel.

"I don't believe anyone."

Fair.

That was fair.

But she wasn't anyone.

"The Ark 0 auction is real," she continued, voice clipped, professional. "And in four days, the bidding opens."

Kael's gaze didn't waver. "No one's buying a ghost ship."

Leah's brows lifted. "That's the problem with people like you. You assume because you don't have all the information, no one does."

His expression didn't shift. "People like me?"

Leah gave him a slow, pointed look. "Alphas with power. You all think you know everything."

A flicker of something—**a flash of amusement, maybe—**before it vanished behind something harder.

"And what do you know that I don't?" Kael murmured, voice smooth. "What makes Ark 0 worth anything?"

Leah's lips curled. "Because it's not a ghost ship."

A slow blink.

A pause that stretched.

Kael's fingers tapped once against the console.

Waiting. Testing.

Then—his voice dropped, cold as steel.

"Explain."

Leah didn't hesitate.

"Ark 0 was a prototype, designed for long-haul survival. Ten years in transit, minimal resource dependency."

Ava had fed her every classified file, every technical readout, every financial record scrubbed from locked systems.

And Kael?

Kael might not trust people.

But he trusted numbers.

"It has onboard agriculture," Leah continued. "Oxygen renewal. Water filtration independent from the others. Meaning it can travel alone."

Her eyes flicked to his, sharp.

"Meaning it doesn't need a fleet to survive."

Kael's expression didn't shift.

But something behind his gaze burned.

He was listening.

She had him.

But now came the part that mattered.

The part that would either seal the deal—

Or make her another body in the ground.

Leah inhaled, steady.

Then—

She went for the throat.

"Your name was on Ark 10's original manifest."

She felt the way his entire frame went rigid.

Bullseye.

Kael's voice was a whisper of a blade.

"You're playing a dangerous game."

Leah's heart pounded, but she didn't break. Didn't fold.

"I play to win."

His silver eyes burned. "And what exactly do you win if I buy this ship?"

Leah's smile was sharp.

"A seat."

Kael's lips curled. "You expect me to just let you onboard?"

Leah's smirk deepened.

"You bought every damn supply chain on this planet, betting they'd collapse before the world did. You don't make bad investments, Kael."

She took another step forward, tilting her head.

"So tell me."

Her voice dropped, silk over steel.

"What's my value?"

Kael didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Didn't breathe.

His silver eyes burned into hers, locked onto every inch of her expression, every shift in her stance, searching for fractures. A tell. A lie. Anything that would explain how she knew.

But Leah did not break.

She had already died once.

What was another roll of the dice?

His voice came slow, measured, but dripping in ice.

"You expect me to bet on a ghost story?"

Leah's jaw tightened.

"No."

She took a slow, calculated breath.

"I expect you to bet on survival."

Kael's gaze flicked over her—sharp, dissecting, like he was picking apart the weakest link in an equation.

She knew what he saw.

A woman unarmed. Outranked. Outgunned.

A woman who had walked straight into the mouth of a wolf and dared to bare her throat.

She also knew exactly what he wasn't seeing.

That she wasn't prey.

Kael's lips curled—a slow, humorless thing.

"You think I can't see it?" His voice was smooth, razor-sharp. "You're desperate."

His head tilted. A hunter considering the strength of its kill.

"You need me."

Leah's lips twitched.

Not a smile.

A bare, sharp-edged flicker of something darker.

"Don't you?"

The air cracked.

A moment—suspended between them, wire-tight and ready to snap.

Then—

Leah stepped closer.

Not enough to challenge.

But enough to force his hand.

Enough to push back against the weight of his power.

"There's a 5% chance you do."

Kael's eyes flashed.

A flicker of something fast, sharp, and deadly precise.

His voice, smooth as glass, but edged with something cold:

"Explain."

Leah didn't blink.

"My gene are different. I'm not compatible with most Alphas."

She watched the realization click behind his gaze.

He already knew what came next.

But she said it anyway.

"But you—"

Her eyes burned into his.

"You might be different."

Kael didn't move.

Didn't react.

Just watched.

Waiting for the catch.

So she gave it to him.

"A 5% gene overlap."

Her voice was quiet, but each word landed like an impact.

"You could be a match—the only match."

The tension curled tighter.

Kael's voice, smooth, ice-cold.

"And where did you get that number?"

Leah's jaw clenched.

She hesitated.

Then—

"Zayne."

Kael's gaze sharpened.

The room seemed smaller.

Tighter.

"He told you my profile."

Her lips pressed.

"He ran the markers." she swallowed, forcing down the weight in her chest.

Kael's voice turned to steel.

"So why does it matter now?"

Leah's chest burned.

Her voice—hoarse, raw, cutting through the ice between them:

"Because I survived."

Her teeth clenched.

The air between them hummed.

Taut. Electric. Deadly.

Then—

Kael moved.

Not fast. Not aggressive.

Just enough.

Just close enough that the space between them became razor-thin.

His voice—low, dark, absolute:

"You want me to take you to the lab."

Leah's breath hitched.

But her answer was instant.

"Yes."

A beat.

A flicker of something unreadable behind his silver eyes.

And then—

Kael exhaled.

The shift was subtle, but it was there.

He had already made the decision.

And Leah had won.

His voice, smooth and edged with finality:

"Then let's find out exactly what you're worth."