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Dreadhorse Chapter 7
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Councilor Bret Veylan’s mind was a tangle of ambitions, ambitions always shadowed by the single act that must never be found out. Years ago, in a desperate bid for leverage, he’d sabotaged a rival’s crucial bio-augmentation research—a crime that, if unearthed, would end not just his career, but everything he’d built since. Now, from the polished heights of his Jupiter City offices, he masked his guilt with rigid control, keeping everyone at arm’s length, projecting steely confidence into every room—while inside, he roiled with insecurity.
He mistrusted admiration, deflected respect, and privately fumed when the easy camaraderie of others threatened his carefully crafted façade. The handsome, capable young men filling his campaign offices—slick data operatives, charming aides, smartly-dressed logistics officers—talked and laughed and sometimes looked at him with a nervous awe. Bret pushed them, and though he claimed it was to toughen them for relentless public life, mostly it was to assure himself he still measured up.
And then there was Ein. Brilliant and quietly magnetic, Ein was new to the scene, assigned by the data center as a liaison for the city’s crumbling tech grid. Bret had watched him for weeks—the warm way he laughed with the others, the way he threaded kindness through even the most grueling tasks. It irritated Bret, but late at night, when the city’s lights blurred beyond his window, it was Ein’s face he saw, and the longing he tried to crush only grew deeper.
Ein, for his part, admired Bret’s fierce dedication and the worn tiredness in his eyes—a vulnerability he could almost touch. Neither spoke of what passed between glances, each thinking: It can’t be. Not with everything that’s at stake.
Tonight was the campaign’s weekly roster check, the air thick with digital projections and the optimism of staffers, none suspecting the tension coiling beneath the orderly surface. Bret called the meeting to order, his voice clipped and official. Through the half-glass wall, the group of young men waited, laughing quietly, pretending not to notice the sparks when Bret brushed past Ein, offering him a too-formal nod.
The meeting blurred for Bret; numbers swam, words fell from his mouth on autopilot. When he finally dismissed the team, the room cleared, except for Ein, who lingered by the city view, his reflection double-exposed against the neon skyline.
“You’re harder on your people than you need to be,” Ein said quietly, not turning.
Bret bristled. “It keeps them sharp. They wouldn’t last otherwise.”
Ein only smiled—sad, knowing. “You don’t have to fight everyone, Bret.” A long pause. “Not even yourself.”
Bret stiffened, his usual defense–the biting retort–rising. But when Ein’s hand brushed his, lingering just a moment too long, something broke open between them. Electricity crackled—neither could speak, only stand there, breathless, as the truth spilled silently into the space.
“I… I shouldn’t,” Bret whispered raggedly, his mask sliding. “It’s not safe.”
“Not for you, or for me?” Ein pressed gently.
Bret’s eyes, for once, revealed all. “Both.”
In that instant, the lights of Jupiter City flickered, and the faint echo of laughter from the young aides outside seemed to fade. The two men stood at the window, hearts pounding, the unspoken rules of power and ambition closing in like a vice.
But Ein squeezed Bret’s hand, steady, resolute. “We could stand against them. Together.”
Bret took a shaky breath, glancing over his shoulder at the world that could unravel if they were discovered.
The city lights gleamed, waiting.
“Then let’s see,” Bret said, voice trembling—as outside the door, footsteps approached.
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Would they face the consequences together, or would the past Bret feared finally catch up to them? Only time—and courage—would tell.