Radox Harett and the Lost Daughter: A Family Legacy, #5

By Iuliana Foos

Born from both the light and darkness, Radox represents the balance between good and evil.

 

A tragedy hits, causing the loss of his wife and unborn daughter in an explosion. Radox closes himself off from the rest of the world. With his hope for happiness incinerated by the flames that took everything from him, work is all he has left. And the reconstruction of the worlds affected by war becomes his top priority.

 

A lost daughter could piece Radox's heart back together or shatter it forever.

 

Tara, a smuggler constantly on the move ever since she ran away from her family, is carving her own destiny. A haunting apparition pushes her to take action, and throws her life into a downward spiral, sweet and tempting, but dangerous and frightening.

 

The chance for love and happiness dangles before Radox and Tara, but can they find the courage to fight their own demons and grab it? Or will they let it pass and continue with the lives they'd been pushed in.

 

**This is a sweet, closed door romance for ages 14+.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DLG Publishing Partners
• Release date: Jul 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201750039

Book preview

Chapter 1

Radox

---

Radox shifted his gaze from a smiling, glowing Myrya, to the tiny onesie she laid in the palm of his hand. The white fabric embroidered with two red hearts made his lips curl upward.

The first heart, bearing the letters Mom had an arrow pointing to the right. Under it, the second one, with Dad, had the arrow trained to the left.

Is this going to fit her? He glanced toward his wife’s rounded belly.

With a little over three months left until welcoming his daughter, Radox agreed to stop on the way to Rytherya, on Drunishaa, for some shopping.

A light chuckle broke free from Myrya’s lips. Of course, it will. How big do you think a newborn is? She scanned the attached label.

For the past hour or so, the scanner had worked hard, beeping every few seconds. From baby clothes to furniture and decorations, Radox enjoyed every minute of the experience.

It just seems so little. He placed the onesie, barely covering his palm, back on the shelf.

So is she. Myrya glided her hands over her prominent belly.

I have to admit, you were right. I’m happy we did this, instead of buying everything remotely. Radox wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders.

You know, I was thinking of those names we played with. Myrya leaned her head on his shoulder.

Do we have a winner? He kissed the top of her golden curls. The vanilla scent of her shampoo floated in waves, filling his lungs, and reminding him that soon, it would be dinner time.

I like Narinne best. Myrya leaned forward. Oh, look at those fluffy toys. She picked up a white stuffed animal resembling a bunny.

Narinne was my favorite—my grandmother’s name. A huge version of the same plush animal attracted his attention. At about four-foot-tall, the toy sitting on the floor—arms wide open—begged for a hug. We should get her this one.

That’s huge. Myrya embraced the oversized bunny. She won’t be able to play with it for some time.

Maybe not, but she could use it later as a napping buddy, or simply sit on it. Pleading his cause, Radox crouched behind the bunny, moving the long ears to the sides, and brought the puffy paws to the front in a begging pose. Please take me home.

Myrya’s laughter filled the store. A few other shoppers glanced in her direction. Smiles bloomed on their faces.

C’mon. How can you say no to him? Radox walked around the bunny. This guy is going to be her first best friend.

We’ll put him on the maybe list. Myrya ran a hand over the soft plush fabric. "Unless you want to play with him. Narinne won’t need him for at least a year."

It would look nice in her room. Head tilted to the side, Radox tried to imagine his little girl playing, laughing.

Memories from his childhood filled his mind. His parents always seemed happy, their eyes smiling at him even when he did something he wasn’t supposed to.

I can’t wait to be a father.

The brand-new home on Rytherya was ready—waiting for him and his family for almost two weeks now.

Radox had volunteered to oversee the temple’s reconstruction, where thousands of templars had trained for millennia.

I’m the luckiest guy in the galaxy. Radox kissed his wife. I have everything I ever wished for—you, our family. He placed a hand on Myrya’s belly. Our little girl is going to be a strong energy user.

Happy Narinne and I could help make your dreams come true. She gazed toward him, tiny sparks of joy animating her blue irises.

Well, second luckiest. Radox smiled. The first one on that list has a big bunny at home. He winked.

Fine. Myrya chuckled, handing him the portable scanner. Get it. I want you to have that coveted title.

Laughing, Radox scanned the label attached to the oversized toy.

This is true happiness. Narinne is going to love this guy.

Oh, you know what we need? Myrya closed a hand on his arm. One of those holoprojectors for the ceiling.

I was thinking we’d need some sort of monitors and surveillance systems. Radox wanted his family as safe as possible.

You can find those next door. The older woman who owned the shop stopped by his side. They make all sorts of devices there and can customize them to your needs. A wide smile parted her lips.

Why don’t you pay for what we have so far, and I’ll go check next door? Myrya kissed his cheek. Let’s make the most out of our time. It’s almost dinner time, and I’m starved.

All right. Radox turned toward the owner. We’ll need everything delivered to Rytherya.

No problem. The shipment should be there in about a week or so. She started toward the counter.

Where exactly is that shop? Myrya followed her.

Next door to your left as soon as you walk out. She gestured to the door. Tell them I sent you. The woman lowered her voice. The owner is my nephew, and he’ll give you a discount. The fine wrinkles surrounding her eyes deepened with a smile.

Perfect. Myrya clapped her hands. Radox, I’ll wait for you next door.

His wife walked toward the exit, her rushed steps revealing excitement—same as the enthralled sensation now filling his heart.

Do you want to add anything else? The woman leaned forward, over the glass countertop.

Nope. This is all. Radox handed her the portable scanner.

She connected it to the main system. The long list started an item by item download from the information he had already input for payment and shipping.

A loud explosion shattered the windows, throwing Radox toward the back of the store.

Myrya. He shook off the glass shards, ignoring his minor injuries. Ears still ringing, Radox rushed to the gaping hole where the door used to be.

To his side, the older woman slowly lifted herself off the floor.

Are you all right? He yelled from the large opening in the wall.

I think so. Those blasted gangs. She propped herself against half-fallen shelves.

Call for help. Radox ran out into the street, heading left in search of his wife next door.

Rubble mixed with smoke, snaking into the air filled his vision. There was nothing but a massive hole between the neighboring shops.

A woman with orange hair ran like a bright flame. She knelt by a mound of bricks, broken glass, and pieces of burning metal. Soot and blood covered her.

Body parts littered the dirt between missing pieces of pavement. Cries and screams filled the air.

Myrya. Radox stared at the destruction in disbelief.

This can’t be happening.

One step after another, Radox avoided the bloody remains belonging to different people.

Is this pregnant lady your Myrya? The woman with bright colored hair and an accent, lifted her amber gaze to him.

She threw a few spheres in the air, the ones Radox recognized as restorative probes field medics used in combat for quick and efficient healing. The tiny devices twirled, then opened, releasing a green mist.

A pungent smell of ozone from the floating emerald fog covered the area and mixed with the choking smoke from the burning plastic and dust.

Oh, I know her, Captain Tara Dranok. Please, Myrya, be okay. Radox climbed over a nearby pile of debris.

His wife’s unmoving body lay on the ground, covered in blood. A metal beam crushed both her legs. Her left arm, bent at an unusual angle, seemed broken.

Myrya. Radox lurched forward.

Even if he wasn’t a healer, Radox released energy in a rain of silver sparkles over his wife’s body. The luminescent particles gathered in a translucent dome around her and the field medic kneeling by her side.

A second explosion shoved him back.

The woman with orange hair threw herself over Myrya, as if trying to protect her—a cloud of smoke and dust engulfed both of them.

One sharp stab in his right shoulder knocked the air out of his lungs.

The end of a metal spike rubbed against his shoulder blade. It went through his chest and exited on the other side next to his heart, coated in thick blood.

Argh. The single sound passed his lips.

More bricks, pieces of metal and glass flew through the fire engulfing the street. Another loud boom shook the ground. The second floor of the covered alley collapsed, and more burning debris rained over the whole area.

No. Myrya. His vision blurred, and a strong whirl of nothingness sucked him in.

Chapter 2

Tara

---

Her eyes blinked open to a sterile white room.

A low, steady beep reached Tara’s ears through the peaceful silence. Artificial daylight poured in from the window to her right.

The thin needle from an IV drip taped to the inside of her elbow caused a slight discomfort. Gaze lifted to the few monitors above the bed, she read the data displayed.

I’m in a hospital, and that’s a fake window. And, at least according to those numbers, I’m all right.

Hands on either side of the bed, Tara pushed up. The whole room started to spin, forcing her to lay back on the raised pillow.

Memories avalanched, filling her mind—the explosion, the destruction, the lifeless bodies.

Somewhere to her right, a door swished open and light steps echoed on the shiny floor.

Tara turned her head toward the source of the sound just in time to see the nurse. A humanoid species, the deep blue skin and bright ruby eyes marked the woman as a Tellez native.

You’re awake. The nurse rushed to her side.

Ugh. Yeah. Tara massaged the sides of her head, trying to stop the room from spinning. The bump on her left temple sent a sharp pain through her skull. How long have I been here? A lock of light blue hair slipped between her fingers.

Oh no. My disguise. Where’s my orange wig?

Panic sped up her heart. For ten years, since she had run away from home, she lived every day in fear—the fear of being recognized.

The other woman checked the monitors and removed the needle from her arm. Six days.

A shot of urgency coursed through Tara’s body, pushing her up for a second time. I have to go. She was supposed to be halfway across the galaxy to see a new potential client, not laying on a hospital bed, exposed and without her disguise.

Easy, there. The nurse pressed the button on the side of her bed, raising it, then gently pushed Tara’s shoulders against the pillow. Your medic will be here shortly. She handed her a glass of water and a couple of tiny yellow pills. Here, these are going to help with the dizziness.

Tara swallowed the medication, emptying the glass.

Six days, she muttered. I can’t afford to stay on this world any longer. Here almost a week? She shook her head in disbelief. I really need to go.

And you will, as soon as your medic clears you. Until then, do you remember how you got here? A smile parted the nurse’s blue lips.

It was an explosion. I remember deploying some healing spheres, then trying to save a pregnant woman and her baby. Tara lifted her gaze to the other woman. Did they make it?

No, I’m sorry. Thanks to you, both got here alive, but died on the operation table. The nurse’s smile morphed into a sad frown. If it was only the initial explosion, she would’ve survived, but the consecutive ones made it impossible.

Tara searched her memory. She had healed the pregnant, beautiful lady named Myrya, then a second explosion happened. The woman whispered something.

She asked me to save her baby girl. Sadness and anger swirled inside Tara. I failed.

They found you on top of the pregnant lady as if you had tried to protect her and the baby. The nurse touched a few buttons on the monitors, changing the data displayed. You had one broken leg, two cracked ribs, a twisted wrist, and took a nasty hit to your left temple. But you’re like new, now.

Out of instinct, Tara raised her hand to the left side of her head again. Her fingertips detected the slight bump under her skin.

Damn it, one of my implants must’ve got busted. I probably took the hit to the head first since I don’t remember anything else.

I healed that woman. She and her baby should’ve made it. Tara furrowed her brows.

She could’ve sworn she saw one of the protective shields, specific to an energy user, enclosed around her and the pregnant lady. The image of the man with a long ponytail sprung to life in her mind. He looked familiar.

They extracted the baby—a tiny girl—but she wasn’t even six months yet. The nurse lowered her head. Too young to make it.

Why didn’t they put her in a maturation chamber right away? Tara straightened in her bed.

We don’t have them here.

What? Tara’s voice escalated with indignation. What kind of hospital is this?

Emergency trauma. We get all the wounded coming from accidents, explosions, shootings and so on, but we don’t have a maternity ward. Guilt echoed in the other woman’s voice. There were almost thirty people caught in that mess. More than half died.

Tara let out a sigh. She’d been fighting to pull people from death’s grip for years. It was one of the reasons for which she had become a field medic in addition to being a smuggler. Yet, every time people died around her, she couldn’t help but feel responsible.

There’s our hero. A human male, around sixty-years-old by her approximation, entered the room. An unbuttoned white coat billowed behind him. It’s good to see you awake, Miss Tara Dranok. I’m your medic, Mio Farias.

Hero? Tara’s mind rejected the title. She would’ve been one if she’d saved all those people from dying. But she had failed.

Thanks to you, there are survivors. The medic’s gaze shifted to the blinking screens. His silver-gray hair sparkled in the light. "Witnesses said you ran in after the first explosion and deployed healing spheres. You are the reason they’re alive."

Something in his tone rubbed Tara the wrong way. For some reason, she didn’t trust him.

No mention of the dead ones, huh? Tara ran open palms over her face in an effort to focus.

When can I leave? And where are my things? She glanced around the spotless room—no sign of her weapons, clothes, or her disguise.

Your belongings should be in that bathroom. He pointed to a closed door. If this check-up looks good, I’ll sign your release in a couple of minutes. The medic glided the scanner above her body