Chapter Eight: Sleepless
Kylo sunk lower into the command chair in the shuttle's cockpit, wrapping his cloak around himself in a makeshift blanket as he let his bent legs fall wide, trying to get comfortable. His helmet rested on a nearby console, removed with the intent of getting an hour or two of sleep before Rey roused.
The scavenger, he admonished silently. Not 'Rey'. She isn't a person with a name. She's an obstacle to be forded or a pawn to be moved.
Kylo brought a gloved hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.
Or a terrorist to be neutralized, he reminded.
With all those titles, why was he thinking of her? Again?!
He had conquered so much, quelling the traitorous call to the Light time and time again, overcompensating with acts of violence and genocide so atrocious it would appease the most ruthless, antiquated Sith masters.
And yet….
Rey made the call a siren's song.
Scavenger, he corrected again.