Chapter 9
Brivul
Plasma fire sizzled past Brivul’s head as he pulled Mila behind a row of market stalls. The acrid smell of burnt synthetics filled the air.
“This way.” He led her through a narrow gap between vendor carts.
“They’re gaining on us.” Mila stumbled, clutching her wounded arm. Blood seeped between her fingers.
Brivul’s jaw clenched at the sight. He scanned the bustling marketplace, mapping escape routes in his mind. A fruit cart provided temporary cover as more plasma bolts scorched the air.
“Under here.” He lifted the edge of a heavy canvas awning.
Mila ducked beneath without hesitation. The tight space smelled of spices and dried herbs. Brivul’s bulk barely fit as he crouched beside her.
“Let me see that arm.”
“It’s fine—”
“It’s not fine.” He gently but firmly took her arm, examining the plasma burn. The wound wasn’t deep, but it needed treatment. He ripped a strip from his shirt.
“You’re destroying your clothes.”
“They’re not that important.” He wrapped the makeshift bandage around her biceps with practiced efficiency. “Too tight?”
“No.” Her voice wavered slightly. “Thank you.”
Heavy boots thundered past their hiding spot. Brivul tensed, ready to fight if needed. His body curved protectively around Mila’s smaller frame.
“You’re good at this,” she whispered.
Their eyes met in the dim light. The fierce determination in her gaze stirred something within him. His mate was a fighter.
“We need to move soon.” He finished securing the bandage. “Can you run?”
“Yes.”
The guards’ footsteps faded. Brivul peered out from their hiding spot, his battle-trained senses alert to any threat. The market bustled with its usual activity, no sign of Kurg’s men.
“Now.” He gripped Mila’s hand and pulled her through the crowd. She ran behind him to keep up with his speed.
The press of bodies provided cover as they darted between stalls. Sweet-scented smoke from food vendors masked their scent. His muscles coiled tightly, ready to fight at the slightest provocation.
“Left.” Mila tugged his arm toward a narrow alley. “The transport station’s this way.”
Smart woman. He followed her lead through the maze of back streets. Rust-stained walls towered above them, blocking out most of the artificial light. The stench of decay and refuse filled his nostrils.
“Down.” He pushed her behind a dumpster as voices echoed ahead.
Two station guards passed. Brivul’s hand stayed firm on Mila’s shoulder until the sound faded.
The transport station loomed ahead, its gleaming facade a stark contrast to the grimy surroundings. Security cameras swept the main entrance in regular patterns.
“Service entrance.” Mila nodded to a small door half-hidden behind cargo containers. “Less security.”
They slipped inside. The service corridor hummed with machinery. Brivul guided them through the maintenance tunnels, avoiding the passenger terminals entirely.
“Here.” He pulled her into a maintenance closet as footsteps approached.
The tiny space pressed them close. Mila’s breath tickled his chest and sent heat radiating through him.
“The cargo hold’s our best bet.” Mila’s whisper broke through his thoughts. “They load the trains at night.”
“Agreed. We’ll need to time it right.”
“A schedule’s posted near the loading dock.”
His lips curved. “You’ve thought this through.”
“Had to. Been planning an escape for years.”
The fierce pride in her voice made his chest tighten. His mate was not just beautiful but clever—a dangerous combination.
Brivul pressed against the cold metal wall, scanning for threats as they exited the maintenance closet. The corridor stretched ahead, harsh fluorescent lights casting strange shadows. His warrior instincts screamed at how exposed they were.
“Clear.” He guided Mila forward.
They rounded the corner. His breath caught. Their faces stared back from every display screen—his stern expression, Mila’s defiant gaze. The bounty numbers scrolled beneath.
“That’s… a lot of credits.” Mila’s voice wavered.
From former general to wanted criminal , he thought. The irony twisted his mouth into a bitter smile. One choice had erased decades of service.
He’d do it again.
“Loading dock schedule’s there.” Mila pointed to a terminal.
The schedule glowed on the screen. Next cargo load—midnight. One hour.
A door slammed nearby. Brivul yanked Mila behind a storage container as heavy boots marched past.
“Kurg’s men.” Her whisper brushed his scales.
Two guards stopped at the wanted poster screens. Their weapons gleamed under the harsh lights. After a few moments, the guards moved on. Brivul’s muscles unclenched slightly.
“Midnight,” Brivul said in a low voice. “We need somewhere to lay low until then.”
“Service shaft access is through there.” Mila gestured to a narrow door. “Nobody checks them.”
His mate’s quick thinking sparked pride in him. She’d survived this long through wit and will. Now she had his strength to protect her, too.
They slipped through the door into darkness. The shaft’s metal walls pressed close, barely wide enough for his shoulders. Perfect defensive position.
Midnight brought the deep thrum of the cargo train’s engines. Brivul guided Mila through the shadows between towering cargo containers, his body coiled with tension at every sound.
“Quick.” He lifted her into a narrow gap between crates.
The metal walls pressed cold against his scales as he wedged himself in beside her. Her warmth radiated through his chest, her scent filling his lungs with each breath—jasmine, vanilla, and something uniquely her.
“Security sweep.” Heavy boots clicked against the cargo hold floor.
Brivul pulled Mila closer, shielding her with his bulk. Her small form molded perfectly against him. His mate. The thought burned through him.
“Check behind those containers.”
Light swept across their hiding spot. Brivul pressed them deeper into the shadows, his arm tightening around Mila’s waist. Her breath hitched. The scent of her fear mixed with something else—attraction? His blood heated at the possibility.
“Nothing here.” The guard’s voice echoed. “Moving to sector four.”
The footsteps faded. Mila’s fingers unclenched from his shirt, but she didn’t pull away. The press of her body against his sent fire racing through his veins. He wanted to taste her, mark her, claim what was his.
No. Not yet. Not while danger still stalked them.
“You okay?” His whisper brushed her ear.
“Yes.” Her voice trembled slightly. “Though I might have permanent bruises from your muscles.”
The teasing note in her voice filled him with awe. His mate was strong enough to joke even while running for her life.
“I’ll make it up to you when we’re safe.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them. Too much, too soon. But Mila just huffed a quiet laugh.
“Promises, promises.”
The train lurched into motion. Brivul steadied Mila as the cargo hold swayed. Soon they’d be far from Kurg’s reach. Then he could tell her everything—about mates and about the bond already forming between them.
The rhythmic sway of the train settled into a steady pattern. Brivul scanned the shadows between the cargo containers, his warrior instincts still on high alert.
“You need rest.” His voice rumbled low in his chest. “The exhaustion’s clear on your face.”
“I’m fine.”
“Lean against me. I’ll keep watch.”
Mila hesitated, her green eyes searching his face. The bruises on her skin made his blood boil with renewed anger.
“You can’t stay awake forever.”
She shifted and then carefully settled her weight against his chest. The sweet jasmine scent of her hair filled his lungs with each breath.
“Sleep. You’re safe with me.”
Her muscles slowly relaxed as exhaustion won out. Her small frame soon nestled closer to him as her breathing deepened and evened out. The complete trust she showed by falling asleep against him stirred something primal in his core.
The weight of her head on his chest sent waves of possessiveness through him. His mate, allowing him to protect her. His arms tightened instinctively around her smaller form.
A lock of dark hair fell across her face. Without thinking, he brushed it back, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of her cheek. The contact sent electricity jolting through his veins.
She murmured something in her sleep and pressed closer. Her hand curled into the fabric of his shirt. The innocent gesture nearly undid him. Every protective instinct in his body screamed to never let her go.
The train’s vibrations rumbled through the metal floor. Brivul adjusted his position to better shield her from the cold walls of their hiding spot. She fit so perfectly against him, as if she’d been made to rest in his arms.
His military training kept his senses sharp, monitoring their surroundings even as his thoughts centered on the sleeping woman in his arms. No one would harm her again. He’d kill anyone who tried.