Chapter 8
Mila
Mila’s heart thrummed in her chest. She sat huddled in the shadows of the abandoned warehouse, the cold of the concrete seeping through her thin dress and chilling her to the bone. Her eyes darted to the entrance every time the wind whistled through the broken windows, half-expecting Kurg’s guards to materialize from the darkness.
The warehouse was filled with rusted machinery and splintered crates, a relic of Jorvla’s thriving past, now a hollow shell. This place of hiding provided a temporary refuge from the dangers that lurked beyond its walls. Mila wrapped her arms around herself, trying to contain the shiver that ran down her spine. The pain from her wounds served as a constant reminder of Kurg’s fury that had been unleashed upon her for daring to dream of freedom.
Yet here she was, free, thanks to the Niri who had charged into her life like a warrior from the old tales. Brivul. The name rolled around in her mind, as foreign and thrilling as the concept of freedom itself. She had seen the protective fire in his violet eyes, felt the commanding strength in his voice as he stood up to Kurg. His strength promised safety.
But at what cost? Her sister, Priscilla, was still trapped within the confines of Kurg’s stronghold. The thought of her sister’s delicate face contorting in fear, the sound of her name being called out in the dead of night, was a blade twisting in Mila’s heart. She had sworn to protect Priscilla, to keep her from harm’s way. Now she was miles away, and the weight of her absence was a heavy one.
Mila’s mind raced with the events that had led her here. The encounter with Brivul at the market, his unexpected chivalry, and the spark of connection that had ignited between them—it all seemed like a strange twist of fate. Of all the places he could have worked, why the surrogacy clinic? Had destiny entwined their paths not once but twice?
She let out a long, slow breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts and emotions that raged within her. The silence of the warehouse was broken only by the distant hum of Jorvla’s nightlife.
The sound of someone approaching pulled Mila from her thoughts. She tensed, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. But then she saw him—the blue scales of Brivul glinting in the faint light that filtered through the grime-covered windows. His towering form was a reassuring presence, and the worry lines that creased his brow eased slightly as his eyes met hers.
“It’s clear,” Brivul said, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within her. “For now.”
Mila let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging as the tension melted away.
Mila and Brivul soon slipped out of the abandoned warehouse and set out for the train that would take them to the district where the underworld was.
“We should take the maintenance tunnels,” Mila whispered, her ribs protesting as she crouched behind a stack of empty crates. “Fewer guards down there.”
“The tunnels are a death trap. One way in, one way out.” Brivul peered around the corner of the warehouse. “The rooftops give us more escape routes.”
“And make us visible to every guard tower in the district.”
Brivul’s jaw clenched. The scar there caught the dim light from the street lamps. Mila pressed her palm against her side, willing the throbbing to subside. Her dress stuck to her skin where Kurg had drawn blood.
“The market district has plenty of cover,” Brivul said. “If we time it right—”
“The market’s crawling with Kurg’s informants.” Mila knew every face that reported back to her former master. “But there’s a service entrance to the tunnels two blocks from here. The lock’s broken.”
His tail coiled tight. “How do you know that?”
“I make deliveries there. Made.” The word tasted strange on her tongue. Freedom was still too new, too fragile to feel real.
His eyes softened. “The tunnels it is then. But we do this my way. I take points. You stay close.”
“I know these streets better than you do.”
“And I know combat tactics that’ll keep us both alive.”
The distant whine of a patrol speeder cut through the night. Mila’s heart jumped to her throat. She pressed herself against the wall, counting her breaths until the sound faded.
“Fine.” She nodded toward a gap between buildings. “That alley connects to the maintenance district. We’ll have to time it between patrols.”
Brivul touched her shoulder, his skin cool against hers. “Ready?”
There was no going back now. “Ready.”
Mila crept through the narrow alley, keeping to the shadows cast by the towering buildings. Brivul’s massive form blocked what little starlight filtered down between the structures. His tail made soft slithering sounds against the dusty ground as they moved.
A question nagged at Mila with each step. Why had he really helped her? No one on Jorvla did anything without expecting something in return. The kindness in the marketplace could have been genuine, but throwing away his position at the clinic? Breaking laws to save a slave? It made no sense.
Her wounds throbbed as they navigated the alleyways. The pain kept her alert, watching not just for patrols, but for any sign Brivul might turn on her. She had no weapons, no friends, nowhere to run.
“Wait.” Brivul held up his hand.
Mila pressed herself against the grimy wall, barely daring to breathe. Heavy footsteps echoed from the cross-street ahead. Guard patrol.
His body curled protectively around her, his scales gleaming in the dim light. The gesture seemed instinctive rather than calculated. Still, she couldn’t afford to trust it completely.
“Why are you really helping me?”
His violet eyes fixed on her face. “Because it’s right.”
“Nothing’s that simple on Jorvla.”
“I’m not from Jorvla.”
The patrol passed. Mila’s heart still raced, but not just from fear of discovery. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“You want to know what I want from you?” His jaw tightened. “Nothing. I saw someone in trouble, and I acted. That’s all.”
The sincerity in his voice made her want to believe him. But a lifetime of slavery had taught her better. Everyone wanted something.
“The entrance is just ahead.” She gestured to a rusted maintenance door half-hidden behind stacked shipping crates. “If you’re planning to turn me in, now’s your chance.”
“I’m not going to hurt you, Mila.”
The way he said her name sent an unexpected shiver through her. But she couldn’t let her guard down.
Suddenly, a shout pierced the night. “There! By the maintenance door!”
Mila froze. Three of Kurg’s guards emerged from the shadows, their weapons glinting under the street lamps.
“Run!” Brivul grabbed her arm.
Pain shot through her ribs as they sprinted down the street. The thunder of boots behind them echoed off the metal walls. Her lungs burned with each breath, her wounds screaming in protest. But the alternative was worse.
“Left!” She tugged Brivul toward a narrow passage between buildings.
Plasma bolts sizzled past them, leaving scorch marks on the walls. The acrid smell of burnt metal filled her nostrils. Her legs trembled with exhaustion, but terror drove her forward.
“Stop or we’ll shoot to kill!”
“They’re bluffing.” Mila’s voice came out ragged. “Kurg wants me alive.”
Brivul’s tail whipped out, knocking over a stack of crates behind them. The crash and cursing told her it had bought them precious seconds.
“The market’s ahead.” She pointed to where neon signs cast multicolored shadows. “We can lose them in the crowd.”
“Too many civilians.”
“Better than getting caught in these alleys.”
More shots flew past. One grazed Mila’s arm, sending sharp pain through her shoulder. She stumbled, but Brivul caught her before she fell.
“Keep moving.” His voice was steady despite their pace. “I won’t let them take you back.”
The sincerity in his words struck deeper than her wounds. Why did he care so much? She pushed the thought aside—survival first, questions later.
They emerged onto a wider street. The night market sprawled before them, a maze of stalls and bodies. Perfect for hiding, if they could reach it. But her strength was fading fast, each step harder than the last.
The guards were gaining ground. Mila heard their heavy breathing, the click of weapons being reloaded. Her heart pounded so hard, she thought it might burst.
“Almost there.” Brivul squeezed her hand. “Just a little further.”