Hunted by the Dragon Alien (Zarux Dragon Brides #3)

Chapter 7

SEVEN

Sevas

Sevas woke to a disorienting haze. Her eyelids felt heavy, her thoughts sluggish as though submerged. She blinked, forcing her vision to focus. The ceiling above her was rough and featureless, unfamiliar at first. She turned her head slightly, taking in her surroundings—a simple, stark cell. The mattress underneath her was thin but softer than anything she remembered since being thrown into this place. Someone had tucked a blanket loosely over her. Her brow furrowed as fragments of memory clawed their way back: the arena, the roar of the crowd, the sharp sting of Gimloria’s fist—blood and desperation etched into the sand. But she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten back here.

The sound of footsteps pulled her attention, followed by the low scrape of quiet male voices. She blinked again and looked over the edge of the bunk to find Takkian standing nearby. His frame, massive and overpowering as ever, was bathed in the dim light of the room. The outline of his angular face cast in shadows. His silver eyes glowed faintly, scanning her with an intensity that made her skin prickle.

“You’re awake.” His deep voice was steady, though her fogged mind caught an undercurrent of something—relief, maybe. Fek , when had this male become the most welcome sight her eyes could conjure? If there was a definition in her mind of male beauty, Takkian was it—gorgeous, powerful, and slightly untamed. Even his scars were appealing to her, numerous as they were.

“I’m relieved you’re okay,” Ulo said quietly from the foot of the bed, where he stood a head taller than the top bunk. “I was so worried, I let Bruil teach me how to fight.”

“ Tried to teach him,” Bruil muttered from below her. “ Fekking pacifists don’t even know how to make a fist.”

Everyone ignored him.

Sevas tried to push herself up, but her muscles protested fiercely. Her ribs ached with every attempt, and her arms barely had the strength to prop her up. She fell back against the mattress with a quiet groan.

“Easy,” Takkian said in a gentle rumble. “You’re in no condition to be moving around yet.”

She tilted her head slightly, peering up at him. “How…?” Her voice came out hoarse, barely audible. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat and tried again. “How did I…?”

“You passed out after the mech led you back here,” he replied simply, folding his arms over his wide chest. “You’re lucky you only took superficial damage. I cleaned up what I could before you woke.”

Sevas blinked again, frowning. Her fingers moved gingerly to her side, brushing against a makeshift bandage wrapped around her ribs. She gritted her teeth and let the information sink in.

“Who was your opponent?” he asked her.

“Gimloria,” she muttered. “She was…mean.”

Takkian nodded once. “Not an easy first fight. She is a crowd favorite. Fast. Nasty.”

Sevas exhaled slowly, her breath shaky. “I was faster.” Barely .

The weight of the fight settled on her chest, heavier than the bruises pressing against her ribs. Images flashed in her mind—her makeshift slingshot, the jagged metal shard, the way Gimloria had crumpled into the sand. There was no satisfaction in the memory, only a hollow ache where relief should have been. “She… She could’ve killed me.”

“Yes,” Takkian said bluntly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “But it wasn’t a final match, so killing you wasn’t her goal. Losing, though, means she let her anger get the better of her. It made her sloppy.”

Sevas turned away, staring at the wall. The ache in her ribs was nothing compared to the twisting in her gut. “I didn’t want to hurt her,” she admitted quietly, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “I’m not… This isn’t who I am.”

“I know,” he said.

The gentleness in his voice cut through her, striking a nerve. She pushed herself up again, this time gritting her teeth against the pain until her back rested against the wall.

The room went silent for a moment. The air between them heavy with things unspoken. Sevas glanced to the corner of the cell where Ulo stood. He kept glancing at her, wide black eyes shimmering with relief, but he stayed silent. “Told you I’d be okay,” she said with a shaky smile for him.

Bruil broke the tension with a dry chuckle from his cot. “I told them both you’d be okay,” he said, his voice raspy with age but tinged with amusement. “Did they believe me? One wanted to learn to fight and the other one paced the cell like he was trying to wear grooves in the floor.”

Sevas’ imagination wasn’t big enough to envision Takkian pacing in worry over her. He was too hard, too callous to do anything as vulnerable as pace . But then again, she was in his bed, under his blanket, with cuts tended. It was possible, she supposed.

The sound of approaching mechs sounded down the corridor outside the cell. All attention snapped toward the door. Sevas’ tired body went rigid despite the pain that pulsed through her bones. Her breath hitched, and the twist in her gut turned to dread.

Ulo raised his head. His small, dark eyes turned toward the sound. “No,” he said. “No, not me. It’s not my turn.”

Sevas already knew what was coming. Her heart pounded as adrenaline surged through her aching limbs. She shifted to swing her legs off the bed, ignoring the sharp stabs of pain from, well, everywhere. “They’re not taking him,” she muttered under her breath, as her feet found the rungs in the ladder. She climbed down from the bunk, bare heels hitting the cold floor.

Takkian was suddenly there, in front of her. Blocking her. He rested one hand on her shoulder. His claws pressed just enough into her skin to emphasize his grip. “You can’t stop this,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

“We can’t just let them—” Sevas started, cutting herself off when she realized shadows stretched under the door. Her pulse spiked as the door lock disengaged and it slid open, revealing two mechs standing side by side. Their dull, silver exteriors looked scarred and smudged, but the glowing red eyes in their rectangular faces were as sharp as ever. One of them extended an appendage, ending in a crackling stun baton.

“Ulo, designator 98-D,” the mech closest to the door said in its artificial voice. “Your participation is required in today’s match. Follow immediately.”

Ulo pressed his bulky body against the cell wall, his hands raised instinctively. “I—I’m not ready,” he stammered, his voice breaking. The rocklike plates on his arms clattered faintly as they brushed the wall. “Please, I’m not ready.”

Sevas’ fists clenched. Her wounds screamed, but she locked onto Ulo, trying to drown out her own pain. “You heard him—he’s not ready. Take someone else,” she snapped.

The mechs didn’t even acknowledge her. The one with the stun baton extended its arm further, the hiss of its energy crackling like fresh lightning. “Noncompliance will result in disciplinary measures,” it droned. The artificial monotone of its voice sent a chill down her spine.

Sevas’ gaze darted to the massive juvenile. His hands visibly shook despite their rocky exterior. She couldn’t stand it—the look of terror etched into his face. She braced herself, ready to get around Takkian and launch forward. Anything to stop the mechs from dragging Ulo into the arena. Her muscles tightened like coiled springs, ignoring the bruises and cuts that pulled at her every movement.

But before she could take a step, Takkian shifted his body and clamped both hands on her hips, firmly planting himself between her and the mechs. She froze, whipping her head toward Takkian.

His bright eyes glowed with warning, his grip unrelenting. “Stop.”

Her body tensed against his hold, anger flaring hot and wild in her chest even as her body learned the feel of his hands on her hips, the spread of his fingers on her skin, and the heat his body gave off when he was this close. He smelled of metal and, interestingly, fire. “Let go of me,” she hissed, trying to wrench free. “I won’t let them—”

“You can’t fight them.” Takkian’s breath was rough and his words firm in her ear. “It’ll only get him killed faster. And you, too.”

“I don’t care—” Sevas started, her voice cracked with desperation.

“ No. ” Takkian leaned in. His voice dropped even lower at her ear. “You will care when the mech assigns all of us to final matches and leaves with him all the same. Think, Sevas. You’re smarter than this.”

His words cut through her rage just enough to freeze her in place as the larger mech rolled forward until its shadow loomed over the terrified juvenile. He was right. She couldn’t help Ulo by attacking the mechs. That course of action could make things worse for him.

Ulo’s trembling form went rigid as the mech’s cold appendage clamped onto his arm. For a moment, he froze. Every muscle in his massive frame appeared locked in fear. His gaze darted between the mech and Sevas, who was still locked in Takkian’s grasp. She could see his panic, the raw desperation etched into his rocky features, and it tore at her insides.

“Ulo,” Sevas called to him as she pulled against Takkian’s unyielding grip. “Don’t let them… Don’t…”

Ulo turned his gaze fully to her. His breath shuddered as the mech’s pull urged him forward. For a fleeting moment, Ulo looked like a trapped animal, cornered and helpless. Then, slowly, something shifted. His shoulders straightened just slightly, and his hands curled into hesitant fists.

“No.” His voice was shaky, but there was a steely thread beneath the fear. He looked down at Sevas. “It’s okay.” His voice trembled, but there was also unexpected calm. “You got through your first match. So will I.”

Sevas shook her head furiously. “No, Ulo, you don’t understand—”

“It’s my turn, Sevas.” His voice steadied. “I’ve watched you. I know I’m strong, but… I have to be brave, too.” He straightened further, standing to his full, towering height. For a moment, Sevas saw him not as a scared, uncertain boy, but as the powerful being that lay inside.

Sevas’ breath hitched in her throat as she stared up at him. There was such sincerity in his eyes, such determination—it crushed her. She wanted to scream, to fight the mechs and rip Ulo free, but Takkian’s words clawed at her mind. He was right. She couldn’t help Ulo like this. And now, Ulo was standing taller in spite of it all.

“I’ll watch out for myself.” Ulo’s voice was firmer as he turned his gaze to Bruil and Takkian. The juvenile straightened his back, facing the large Zaruxians with determination. “You told me to use my size, right? To stand like a fortress?” His rocky jaw trembled, but his voice didn’t waver. “I’ll… I’ll try to remember that.”

Takkian’s glowing eyes moved over Ulo’s form, his expression unreadable.

With a slow, deliberate nod, Bruil replied, “Don’t hesitate. And don’t turn your back on your opponent.” His tone was flat, but there was a weight to his words, one that spoke both of inevitability and…respect.

Ulo nodded. The mech tugged at his arm again, and this time, the juvenile followed without resistance. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though each step was a battle in itself. Sevas watched as he crossed the threshold of the cell, dwarfed even by the imposing presence of the machines escorting him.

“Ulo,” she called, trying to sound steady. He turned his broad head slightly, enough to glance back at her. “Survive.”

The corners of his rocky lips twitched upward, just enough to resemble a faint, trembling smile. “I will,” he rumbled softly before the mech’s clamp tightened, urging him forward. The cell door slid shut with a metallic thud, the sound echoing in the suffocating silence that followed.

Sevas slumped, finding herself sitting on the edge of Bruil’s bunk. The tension spilled out of her body. The fight drained from her muscles all at once, leaving her shaking and hollow. Her palms throbbed where her nails had bitten into the skin, and the dull ache of her ribs flared up again, but none of it mattered. Her gaze remained locked on the now-closed door, her mind racing with thoughts of Ulo in the arena—alone, terrified, and likely outmatched.

Takkian moved to stand in front of her. His towering frame cast an imposing shadow. “It’s his fight now.”

Sevas snapped her gaze up to meet his. Anger flared hot and sudden in her chest, spilling out in a sharp burst. “It shouldn’t be his fight!” she spat. Her voice trembled with barely contained fury. “He’s just a child, Takkian! He doesn’t know how to do this, and I—I couldn’t help him.”

Her voice cracked on the last word. Frustration and helplessness made her fists clench tightly, nails digging into her palms again. She couldn’t focus on the pain there—it was drowned out by the ache in her chest, worse than any wound Gimloria had left on her.

Takkian leaned down, making his gaze level with hers. “They were always going to take him. That choice was never yours. You would’ve just gotten yourself dragged out with him—and he would’ve had to watch you die first.”

His words hit her harder than she liked. They punched the air right out of her lungs, leaving her frozen as the reality of it settled into the raw edges of her thoughts. She hated that he was right. Hated it as much as she hated the Axis.

“But—” she started, her voice faltering.

“No,” Takkian cut her off, his voice firmer now. “You don’t get to waste what’s left of your strength beating yourself up about this. You survive for him. That’s how you help him.”

Sevas opened her mouth to argue, but his gaze pinned her in place. The intensity in his eyes wasn’t cruel—it wasn’t even angry, not really. It was commanding, demanding that she let go of the guilt that was tearing her apart.

Sevas stared at the door for what felt like an eternity. Her shoulders trembled under the weight of emotions that pressed against her like a boulder threatening to crush her. The guilt gnawed at her insides, sharp and relentless, but beneath the noise in her mind, something steadier rose. A spark. Faint at first, but growing brighter. For the first time since she’d been dragged into this nightmare, she felt something other than fear or rage. She felt purpose.

She sat up straighter, pressing her palms into the rough fabric of the bunk and steadying herself. Her ribs protested. Pain flared with the movement, but she forced herself to breathe through it. Her gaze moved to Takkian, who still stood before her. His silver gaze burned into hers.

“I’m done waiting.” Her voice was low and uneven but laced with a thread of steel. Her fingers curled over the edge of the bunk as she peered upward, meeting his gaze head-on. “I’m not going to just sit here and wait for the next match, or the next loss, or the next bloody face to haunt me.”

Takkian tilted his head slightly. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“At my settlement, nobody fought for anything. We just…accepted that our lives would be hard and miserable. We starved because the Axis took nearly everything. When something broke, when they took too much—” Her chest heaved as her breath caught. “I made it work. I made tools, shaped rocks into wheels, into shelters. If something was wrong, I fixed it. And this?” She gestured around her—the cell, the arena, everything that had held her since she was taken. “This is wrong.”

“You can’t fix this place, Sevas.” Takkian sounded like he was trying to soothe a feral beast. “You’ll just get yourself killed trying.”

“I don’t mean fixing this place,” she said, cutting him off before he could douse the resolve blazing to life inside her now. “I mean, I’m going to find a way out of here, Takkian. For Ulo, for Bruil, for anyone that still has something worth living for. I’m getting us out .”

Bruil, who had been quiet until now, let out a sharp, gruff laugh. “You really are something, aren’t you? A few days in the pit and she’s already planning an uprising. Do you know how many cycles I’ve heard that speech? Do you know how many are still here, rotting in these cells?”

Sevas didn’t flinch at his words. Her jaw set, her gaze fixed on Takkian. She had heard that same tone back home, from people too worn down by years of suffering to fight back. She refused to let it crush her now.

“This isn’t the same. I’m not going to just talk about leaving. I’m going to do it.” She rose to her feet and leaned toward Takkian, searching his face for cracks in the stoic armor he wore so well. “But I can’t do it alone. You know how this place runs, how they think. You’ve survived this long because you know how to adapt. We can do this, Takkian. Together.”

For a moment, he said nothing. His eyes flickered with something unreadable as his wings shifted slightly behind him, a restless twitch. Sevas held her breath, waiting for him to dismiss her like Bruil or push her away.

Takkian regarded her in silence. The weight of her words hung between them. His gaze was sharp, unwavering, as though he was dissecting every inch of her resolve. His claws tapped faintly against his forearm, a rhythm she was recognizing as a sign he was thinking, calculating.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, deliberate. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Sevas didn’t back down. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, but she forced herself to meet his eyes. “I’m asking for a chance,” she said. “A chance to do something that matters, to not just…exist here until they decide they’re done with me.”

Takkian’s teeth ground together. He glanced toward Bruil, who was watching the exchange with a mix of curiosity and skepticism, then back to Sevas. His eyes flared bright in the dim cell. He leaned in closer. His imposing frame made the small space between them feel even smaller.

“If I agree to this,” he said, his voice dropping to a near-growl, “you need to understand there’s no going back. No second chances. The handlers, the mechs, the Axis—they don’t forgive. They’ll crush us the moment they sniff out an escape plan. And the people here, the fighters? They’ll turn on us the moment it benefits them.”

“I understand,” Sevas replied. She straightened, ignoring the pain, her gaze locked on his. “But I’ll take that over waiting to be put in a final match.”

Takkian studied her for a long, heavy moment. His wings shifted behind him again in a restless twitch that betrayed the turmoil beneath his cool exterior. Finally, he exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound more like a growl than a sigh.

“Very well,” he said at last, his tone clipped. “But don’t think for a second this will be some triumphant rebellion. This isn’t about hope or justice. This is survival. Nothing more.”

Sevas let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Relief mixed with adrenaline, pooling low in her gut. She nodded firmly. “That’s all I need.”

“You’re a mad one, little Terian,” Bruil said, shaking his scarred head. His yellow eyes gleamed with something between amusement and disbelief. “No one’s gotten out of here. Ever.”

Sevas turned her gaze to Bruil. “Then we’ll be the first.”

Bruil snorted. His leathery wings shifted as he leaned back against the cell wall. “I admire your spirit, but I’ll tell you this—plans fall apart in here. Faster than a bakknife with bad welds.”

Takkian straightened. “She knows the risks,” he said, his voice low but sharp. “And so do I.” His silver eyes flicked back to Sevas with a hard expression. “We have to plan carefully. There will be no room for mistakes.”

Sevas nodded. Her heartbeat still thundered in her ears, but she felt steadier now, more grounded. The pieces weren’t clear yet, but a picture was forming in her mind—a path. Rough, uncertain, and dangerous, but a path nonetheless.

Takkian stepped back, his gaze locked on her as he folded his arms. “We’ll figure out the details later. Right now, you need to rest and I need to think.”

“And Ulo?” Sevas’ voice softened for the first time since the conversation started. She hated the edge of worry she couldn’t quite smother.

Takkian paused, his claws twitching faintly against his forearm. “If he’s strong, he’ll survive,” he said, blunt as ever. “We do nothing for him by throwing ourselves into a fight we can’t win. Let him prove something today.”

Sevas didn’t like it, but she knew he was right. That didn’t stop the knot of fear from tightening in her stomach, nor the helplessness that tried to squeeze off the air to her lungs. Taking a deep breath, she pushed those feelings down and focused on what she could control. “Then we make sure he has something to come back to.” Her voice was steadier now, threaded with determination. Her eyes didn’t waver from Takkian’s, silently willing him to see the resolve burning behind them. She would not let Ulo’s bravery be for nothing.

Takkian nodded almost imperceptibly, as if he understood the burden they now carried. “Rest while you can. You’ll need your strength.”

For once, Sevas didn’t argue. She climbed back up to Takkian’s bunk, wincing slightly as her bruises protested. As she settled into the mattress, she caught Takkian stealing one last glance at her before moving out of her view.

The sound of the mechs had faded, but in her mind, they still loomed like the haunting sound of inevitability. She closed her eyes. Ulo’s trembling voice and his fleeting smile were etched into her memory. He had found his courage. Now it was her turn to muster some of her own.