Chapter 16
The shuttle bucked through turbulence that made Zeke’s stomach drop. He kept Michelle cradled against his chest, her weight still too still in his arms. His lips moved against her temple, words spilling out in a desperate stream he couldn’t stop.
“Just hold on, kelarris. We’re almost there.” His voice cracked on the endearment, raw from shouting. “Everything’s going to be okay. You hear me? You have to be okay.”
The legion armor he’d formed over her wounds gleamed black in the emergency lighting, sealed tight over the damage that should have killed her. Her pulse fluttered against his fingers where he pressed them to her throat… weak but stubborn, just like her.
Wind howled against the shuttle’s hull, the sound rising to a shriek as Maeve pushed the engines harder.
Through the viewport, Zeke caught glimpses of roiling clouds lit from within by lightning.
The storm had come from nowhere, another gift from the legion weapon screwing with local weather patterns.
“Garrison coming up!” Maeve’s voice cut through the engine noise. “But this storm’s getting worse. I can’t land on the primary pad, the wind shear’s too strong.”
Zeke’s arms tightened around Michelle. Every second counted, and he felt her slipping further away with each labored heartbeat. The medical team was waiting, but if they couldn’t land—
He stood, legs braced against the shuttle’s violent motion. The movement sent fresh blood seeping from his wounds, but he ignored it. “Open the rear hatch.”
“What?” Maeve’s head whipped around, her eyes wide. “Are you insane? Sit your ass down!”
But he was already moving, one arm securing Michelle while the other slammed the emergency release.
The loading ramp groaned as it began to lower, and at once the storm tried to tear him from the shuttle.
Wind battered him with the force of a sledgehammer, rain driving sideways in sheets that stung like needles.
“Get over the main courtyard!” He had to roar to be heard over the storm’s fury.
“You can’t make that drop!” Raaze appeared beside him, one hand gripping the cargo netting to keep from being sucked out. “That’s twice regulation height! Even for a combat drop, that’s—”
“I can make it.” Zeke shifted Michelle in his arms, judging the distance. “Just get us over the courtyard!”
The shuttle lurched, fighting crosswinds as Maeve cursed. Through the opening, he saw the garrison walls spinning below, torch lights marking the courtyard’s boundaries.
Too high. Way too high. But he could make it. He knew he could make it.
“This is draanthing insane,” Raaze muttered. The shuttle steadied, becoming almost stable despite winds that should have sent them tumbling.
“Nice to see human females are good for something,” Raaze said.
Zeke snarled at him, but his focus had already narrowed to the drop. The courtyard rushed up—stone worn smooth by centuries of footfalls, puddles reflecting the shuttle’s lights. He stepped forward into nothing.
The fall stretched forever and lasted a heartbeat. Wind tore at him, trying to flip him backward, but he curled around Michelle’s unconscious form. His body became a shield, taking the brunt of the storm’s assault as they plummeted.
Impact.
Stone cracked beneath his feet, a spider web of fractures spreading outward from where he landed. Pain shot up through his legs, but it was distant and unimportant compared to the precious weight in his arms.
Above him, the shuttle peeled away with a scream of engines, Maeve taking it back toward the battle site through the storm. But Zeke’s attention had already locked onto the figures running toward him through the rain.
Ashley ran at the head of the medical team, her small form dwarfed by the Izaean warriors flanking her with a hovering stretcher. Her jaw was tight, her gaze locked on Michelle’s still form before she even reached them.
“How bad?” She didn’t waste time on greetings, already reaching for her friend.
“Bad.” The word scraped his throat. “She needs—”
“We've got her.” Prince Isan emerged from the driving rain, his silver hair plastered to his skull. His healer’s bag was already open, hands moving fast. “Put her on the stretcher.”
Zeke’s arms locked, his entire body rebelling at the thought of releasing her. He couldn’t let go, not when letting go felt like abandoning her.
“Zeke.” Isan’s voice carried all the authority of his royal status. “Let me do my job. NOW.”
The command cut through his rage. Slowly, fighting every instinct, he lowered Michelle onto the stretcher. His hands shook as they released her, and he had to force himself not to snatch her back.
They ran through the rain, the medical team moving around the stretcher. He stayed at Michelle’s side, one hand on her arm. The garrison’s corridors blurred past—stone and metal and worried faces turning to watch their desperate procession.
They burst into Dr. Godwin’s lab, the sudden brightness and sterile surfaces almost blinding. The operating theater waited behind glass walls, equipment already prepped and humming with readiness.
“You can’t come in.” Isan stripped off his rain-soaked outer layer. “Wait here.”
“No.” The denial ripped from his chest. “I stay with her.”
“You’ll contaminate the surgical field.” Isan’s hands were already in the sterilization unit. “Your blood, your wounds... you’re more a danger to her than help right now.”
Logic battled instinct as they wheeled Michelle through the airlock into the operating theater. Zeke pressed against the glass, watching them transfer her to the surgical table. The black armor his legion had formed still covered her wounds, and Isan studied it before beginning his prep.
“Please hold on.” His forehead touched the cold glass, his whisper fogging the surface. “Just a little longer, kelarris.”
A small hand slipped into his, warm against his blood-chilled skin. He looked down to find Lila beside him, but the intelligence looking through her young eyes was ancient. Not human. Not anymore.
“Have faith.” The words carried harmonics that resonated in his bones, the legion speaking through the girl’s throat. “She fights harder than you know.”
“She shouldn’t have to fight.” His voice broke. “I should have protected her better.”
“You protected her the only way that mattered.” Lila’s hand tightened on his, and he couldn’t move. Not paralyzed, but held by a will older and stronger than his rage. “Your legion chose to save her. That armor isn’t just protection... it’s a promise.”
Through the glass, Isan worked. His hands moved in patterns, the neural link glowing as he connected with Michelle’s damaged systems. The legion armor peeled back at his touch, revealing the horror beneath before his healing began knitting tissue back together.
Zeke wanted to smash through the barrier, to tear Isan away from his mate. The prince was touching her, healing her, taking over what should be his responsibility. His muscles bunched, ready to move, but Lila’s grip might as well have been steel chains.
“Don’t.” Raaze’s voice came from the doorway, and when Zeke glanced over, the warrior stood against the frame. His stance said everything… he would put Zeke down, hard, if he tried to interfere. “Let the prince work.”
Hours crawled past, or maybe minutes... time lost all meaning as Zeke watched every movement beyond the glass. His own wounds throbbed but he couldn’t look away.
“She’s strong.” Lila said. “Stronger than she looks. She chose you, knowing what you are.”
“I know.” The words came out rough. “That’s what terrifies me.”
Finally, after forever and an instant, Isan stepped back. His movements were exhausted but satisfied as he sealed the last incision. The door cycled open, and he emerged.
“Surgery went well. Between your legion’s armor and my healing, we repaired most of the damage. Her leg is completely healed.”
Zeke’s knees gave out. The strength that had carried him through the storm and the fall vanished, and the world tilted. “She’ll live?”
“She needs rest, but yes.” The prince's expression softened. “She’ll make a full recovery.”
Lila smiled and released his hand. Zeke tried to bolt for the operating theater, but his legs betrayed him. The blood loss he’d been ignoring crashed over him, and he stumbled.
Strong arms caught him before he hit the floor. Raaze hauled him upright, taking most of his weight.
“Thank you,” he managed, the words feeling strange directed at the warrior who’d been nothing but antagonistic.
“Don’t thank me. I just don’t want to see a grown feral blubber like a baby.” Raaze’s tone was sharp, but his grip steady as he helped Zeke toward the recovery room. “It's bad for our reputation.”
Zeke wasn't listening to him anymore. He was looking at Michelle. She looked small in the medical bed, but her color was already better. The steady beep of monitors confirmed what his hearing already knew... her heart beat strong and regular.
He sank into the chair beside her bed, his hand finding hers. Her fingers were warm again, the terrifying cold finally gone. He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“I’m here,” he whispered against her skin. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
The chair was uncomfortable, and he was still bleeding from more holes in his skin than he wanted to think about, but none of it mattered.
She would live.
And for now, that was all he cared about.
Something nudged at the edges of her consciousness. Michelle fought it, burrowing deeper into the warm darkness that wrapped around her like a blanket. Here, nothing hurt. There were no broken bones, no torn flesh, or the terrible cold spreading through her body.
But the darkness wasn't empty. A presence moved through it with her, sending warm pulses against her thoughts. That should've terrified her. Instead, she felt safe. Protected. The same bone-deep security she got when Zeke's arms wrapped around her.
Zeke.
The thought pulled her toward consciousness.