Chapter 11 #2
He laughed. “They always beg.”
Cold metal pressed against her throat.
She froze as every muscle in her body locked. The blade was sharp, a thin line of fire where it touched her skin. Warm trickle down her neck. Oh shit, that was blood.
One of them was still talking. Threats, ideology, something about purity and tradition. She couldn’t hear it over the roaring in her ears.
Oh shit. She was going to die.
In an alley. Alone.
The thought should have brought terror. And it did—her whole body shook with it, tears streaming down her face, lungs burning because she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t—
But that wasn’t what broke her.
She hadn’t told Goraath she loved him.
Even if it was just sex for him, just convenience, just a warm body in his bed after years of cold— She should have been brave enough to say it.
The blade pressed harder and she squeezed her eyes shut.
I love you, she thought, sending it out into the dark like a prayer. I love you. I’m sorry I never said it. I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough. I’m sorry—
The flames cast dancing shadows across Kaalden’s face as Goraath spoke in a low voice.
“The stampede wasn’t an accident.” He kept his voice level, but his hands curled into fists at his sides. “I walked the fence line afterward. Found scorch marks in the grass. Pyrotechnics. Someone set them off deliberately.”
Kaalden’s jaw tightened. “You’re certain?”
“Juni was in that field.” The memory clawed at him. Her small body on the ground with the krulaati bearing down on her. He winced at the remembered sound of her screams. “She would have died if I hadn’t reached her in time.”
Kaalden’s eyes flashed fire. “Who?”
“Tarex.” The name tasted like poison. “He lost in the lottery and he’s been bitter about it since. He’s been making comments about the program, and about the females.” His voice dropped. “About Juni specifically.”
Kaalden was quiet for a long moment, the expression in his eyes hard.
“He’s not the only one.” Kaalden glanced around the festival crowd.
“There’s been three incidents in the last week.
First the feed stores were contaminated, then the power relay was cut to the northern sector, where most of the female’s are being hosted.
And someone breached the infirmary two nights ago. ”
“The infirmary?” Goraath’s lips quirked up at the corner. “Please tell me Thayn was there.”
“Unfortunately not.” Kaalden’s eyes glinted with dark amusement. “He and his female had left an hour before. They trashed the place though.”
“Shame.” Goraath shook his head slowly. “I would have enjoyed seeing what was left of them.”
“Pieces.” The colony leader’s smile was not pleasant. “Small ones. Thayn always was thorough.”
The colony’s healer had hands gentle enough to coax life back into the dying. Those same hands had once torn enemies apart with brutal efficiency. Most colonists saw only the healer now. They’d forgotten—or never known—what Thayn had been before he’d traded blades for bandages.
Fools often forgot that healers knew exactly where to cut to make it hurt. To kill.
The amusement faded from Kaalden’s face. “They were after Autumn. They knew where she’d be. They just didn’t anticipate she’d already left.”
“They’re watching.”
“They’re learning.” Kaalden’s expression hardened. “Patterns. Routines. Waiting for the right moment.”
Something cold coiled in Goraath’s gut. “Coordinated.”
“Targeting anything connected to the program.” Kaalden nodded. “Someone wants it to fail. Badly enough to risk exposure.”
He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. When he spoke again, his voice was harder.
“Watch your back, old friend. And watch your female.” His hand landed on Goraath’s shoulder. “These draanthic cowards won’t stop until someone makes them.”
“I’ll handle it,” Goraath said.
“I know you will.” The corners of Kaalden’s mouth twitched. “That’s what worries me.”
Movement at the edge of his vision made Goraath’s head turn. He scanned the crowd automatically, searching for auburn hair and a silver herb tucked behind one ear.
Nothing.
His chest seized. Where was she? He’d seen her near the til’vaash display not long ago, talking to the scarf vendor. Laughing at something. Now—
“Problem?” Kaalden followed his gaze.
“Juni.” Goraath frowned as he scanned again, his gaze running over the sweet cake stall, the brazier with the central flame, and the cluster of human females near the food vendors… his eyes narrowed. Juni wasn’t with them. “I don’t see her.”
Before Kaalden could respond, movement caught his eye.
Tarex shoved through the crowd, heading straight for them. Running. His face was pale and he was wild-eyed.
Every muscle in Goraath’s body went rigid.
He moved before he could think. Crossed the distance between them in three strides and grabbed Tarex to slam him into the nearest wall hard enough to rattle his teeth.
His forearm pressed against Tarex’s throat, cutting off air.
“You,” he snarled. “You set those pyrotechnics. You almost killed her.”
Tarex’s hands scrabbled at Goraath’s arm. His mouth opened, closed but no sound came out.
“I should break your neck right here.” Goraath leaned closer, putting more pressure on the male’s windpipe. “Give me one reason not to.”
“Juni—” Tarex choked out the word. “Your female—”
“Don’t say her name.”
“She’s in danger.” Tarex’s eyes bulged, face going purple. “The alley. They took her into the alley. Three of them. Purists—”
Something cold and sharp slid into place behind his eyes.
Goraath dropped him. Didn’t wait to see if he hit the ground. Didn’t care.
He ran.
The crowd parted around him. People stumbled back, pressing against walls and stalls, getting out of his way.
The alley mouth gaped ahead. Dark. Narrow. The sounds of the festival faded behind him as he plunged into shadow.
Twenty years.
It fell away between one step and the next. The careful posture. The measured movements. The mask he’d worn so long he’d almost forgotten it was a mask.
What was left was older, and much darker. The thing he’d been before he’d walked away from the empire and tried to become someone who deserved peace.
Krin hunter.
The words surfaced from somewhere deep. A name he hadn’t let himself think in years. The empire’s term for males like him—the ones they sent into the nests when nuking from orbit wasn’t an option. The ones who came out covered in blood and ichor and pieces of things that used to be alive.
Most hunters didn’t survive their first year. He’d served fifteen.
That kind of survival left marks. Not just on skin.
And right now, that thing inside him was the only thing that could save her.
The alley opened ahead. Dark. Stinking of piss and rotting garbage.
He took in everything in a single glance. Three males. Big. Armed. Juni’s ragged breathing echoed off the stone walls. One of them had her pinned with a blade at her throat. Blood on her neck—black in the dim light. Her face was wet with tears, pale with terror, but she was alive.
Rage unlocked in the center of his chest, surging outward.
Pure. Cold. Absolute.
Rage.
The male on the left saw him first. His eyes went wide and he opened his mouth—
Goraath didn’t give him the chance to speak.
He moved as the male reached for his weapon. Too slow. Goraath’s hand closed around his throat and crushed brutally. Cartilage crumpled… tore, and the male dropped, choking on his own crushed windpipe.
The second one drew his blade and managed a swing. The edge caught Goraath’s arm, a line of fire he ignored. He caught the male’s wrist, twisted, felt bone snap as he used his opponent’s own momentum to spin him around.
One hand on the jaw. One on the back of the skull.
Twist.
The crack echoed off the alley walls.
Two down. Seconds. Maybe less.
The third male—the one with the blade at Juni’s throat—pressed the edge harder against her skin. More blood welled up. Juni whimpered, the sound cutting through Goraath like a hot knife.
“Stay back.” The male’s voice shook. “Stay back or I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” He kept moving forward. Slow now. Deliberate. “Kill her? You’re going to do that, anyway.”
He had to ignore the tiny whimper of terror Juni made, his focus on her attacker.
“I mean it!” The blade trembled. “I’ll open her throat right—”
“Then you’ll die.” Goraath smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “But not quickly. Not cleanly. I’ll take you apart piece by piece, like the Krin do to their enemies. And I’ve had a lot of practice… I’ll make it last for days. You’ll be begging me to end it.”
The male’s face went grey.
“Or.” Goraath stopped. Close enough to strike but not quite. Not yet. There was a rhythm to these things, like a dance. “You drop the blade and let her go, and I’ll make it quick. Painless. It’s a lot better death than you deserve and you know it.”
“You’re insane.” The male’s voice cracked. “You’re draanthing insane.”
“Yes. I’m a krin hunter.” The words felt strange in his mouth.
He hadn’t said them in twenty years. “I’ve killed things that would eat you alive and enjoy it.
I’ve walked into pod nests that would make you soil yourself and weep.
And that female—” His voice dropped to something little more than a snarl.
“That female is mine. So make your choice. Drop the blade or find out exactly what kind of monster you’re dealing with. ”
The blade clattered to the ground as the male shoved Juni away from him, hands up, backing toward the alley wall. “Don’t… please! I was just following orders. They said—”
Goraath moved.
His fist connected. Bone crunched. The male staggered, blood spraying from his ruined nose. He hit him again. And again. The rage was a living thing inside him, demanding blood, demanding payment for every moment of terror his female had suffered.
He grabbed the male by the throat and slammed him against the wall. Raised his fist—
“Goraath. Hold!”
The familiar voice cut through the red haze with a sharp command.
Kaalden stood at the entrance to the alley. The colonists were clustered behind him. Their eyes were wide, their faces pale.
They’d heard. Krin hunter.
“We need him alive.” Kaalden’s voice was steady. “We need to know who else is involved.”
Goraath’s fist trembled in the air. The male beneath his grip was barely conscious, blood bubbling from his lips, one eye already swelling shut.
Not enough. Not nearly enough.
But Kaalden was right. They needed answers. They needed to tear out this rot at the root before it spread further.
He let the male drop and stepped back. His hands shook—not from exertion but from the effort of stopping. Of pulling himself back from the edge.
The male crumpled to the ground, moaning.
He turned.
Juni was pressed against the alley wall where she’d fallen. Her face was white and blood still trickled from the cut on her throat. Her eyes were huge, locked on him with an expression he couldn’t read.
Horror. That’s what it was. Had to be.
She’d seen him. All of him. The monster he’d spent years hiding. She’d watched him crush a male’s throat with his bare hand. Snap another’s neck like kindling. Beat the third one bloody while promising torture and slow death.
She’d heard him say what he was. Krin hunter. She was human, so she didn’t know what that meant. But she’d seen what it looked like.
“Juni.” Her name came out rough.
She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at him with those wide, terrified eyes.
His chest cracked open as he took a step toward her. Just one.
She flinched.
The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. He waited for her to move. To say something. To reach for him the way she had last night when she’d pulled him down into her warmth and whispered his name like it meant something.
She didn’t and his heart broke.