Chapter 15
Mila
Blood spread between Brivul’s fingers where he clutched his side, staining his tunic dark. His massive form slumped against the alley wall, his violet eyes unfocused.
“No, no, no.” Mila’s heart hammered. She’d seen wounds like this before. Slaves who’d crossed Kurg rarely survived them. But Brivul couldn’t die, not after everything he’d done for her. “Stay with me. We need to get back to Ellri’s.”
“Just… need a minute.” His words slurred together.
“We don’t have a minute.” She ducked under his arm, bracing herself against his weight. Her muscles screamed in protest—even half-conscious, he was still mostly serpent and pure muscle. “Up. Now.”
He rose slowly, his scales scraping against the wall. His tail dragged limply behind them as they stumbled forward.
“Almost there.” The lie tasted bitter. The hotel was still three blocks away.
Blood dripped onto the pavement with each step. Mila’s arms shook from supporting him. If they were spotted now…
“Should leave me.” His head lolled against her shoulder.
“Shut up.” She hitched him higher, ignoring the wet warmth seeping into her clothes. “You didn’t leave me with Kurg. I’m not leaving you.”
The hotel’s faded sign appeared ahead. Just a few more steps. Brivul’s breathing grew more labored.
“Ellri!” Mila’s voice cracked as they entered the hotel. “Help!”
Brivul went completely limp, his massive form pulling her down as his eyes rolled back. They crashed to the floor together in a tangle of limbs and scales.
“Someone help me!” The words tore from her throat. She pressed her hands against his wound, blood welling between her fingers. “Please don’t die. Please.”
For the first time since she’d known him, Brivul looked small. Vulnerable.
“I can’t lose you.” The whispered words surprised her. When did he become so important?
Ellri’s footsteps thundered down the stairs. “What happened?”
“Street thugs.” Mila’s hands trembled against Brivul’s wound. “Help me get him up. He’s losing too much blood.”
Together they lifted him with all their effort, his scales scraping across the floor. His massive tail dragged behind them as they half-carried, half-dragged him up the stairs. Mila’s arms burned with the effort, but she refused to let go.
“Almost there.” Ellri kicked open their room door.
They maneuvered him onto the bed. His blood soaked into the sheets, turning them crimson. Mila ripped open his shirt, exposing the wound. The gash ran deep along his side where scales met flesh.
“Get me hot water and clean cloths.” Mila pressed her hands against the wound. She’d treated countless injuries at Kurg’s—broken bones, knife wounds, whip marks—but nothing this severe.
Ellri rushed back with supplies. Mila cleaned around the wound, her movements precise despite her shaking hands. The blade had gone deep, too deep.
“I need a needle and thread.”
“Will that be enough?” Ellri’s voice quivered.
Mila wiped sweat from her brow, leaving a streak of blood across her forehead. “It has to be.”
Brivul’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. His usual blue scales had taken on a sickly pale hue. This proud warrior who’d risked everything for her now lay helpless.
“Stay with me.” She pressed a clean cloth against the wound. “You’re not allowed to die. You hear me? Not now.”
His only response was the raggedness of his breathing.
Hours blurred together as Mila worked tirelessly to save Brivul’s life. Her fingers cramped from holding needle and thread, stitching the wound closed with careful precision. The metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils as she cleaned and bandaged, checking his breathing, monitoring his pulse.
Ellri brought fresh water and bandages throughout the night. “You should rest.”
“I can’t.”
As dawn approached, Mila’s bones ached from sitting in the same position for hours. She gripped Brivul’s hand tightly, his scales cool against her palm. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm now, no longer the shallow gasps from before.
The first rays of sunlight spilled through the window, casting golden light across his face. His fingers twitched in her grip. Mila’s heart skipped as his eyes fluttered open, revealing familiar violet irises.
A weak smile curved his lips. “You look terrible.”
Tears spilled down Mila’s cheeks before she could stop them. She hadn’t even realized she was crying until Brivul lifted his hand, brushing them away with gentle fingers.
“Don’t move.” Her voice cracked. “You’ll tear your stitches.”
“Worth it.” His thumb traced her cheekbone. “You stayed.”
“Of course I stayed.” The words came out fiercer than intended. “Someone had to keep you alive.”
His smile widened. “My warrior.”
Heat bloomed in her chest at the possessive tone. She squeezed his hand, unable to form words around the lump in her throat. He was alive. That was all that mattered.
Mila dabbed the cool cloth across Brivul’s scales, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Three days had passed since the attack, yet her hands still trembled each time she changed his bandages. The wound looked better, the angry red fading to pink around the careful stitches she’d placed.
“You don’t have to hover.” His eyes followed her movements. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Someone needs to make sure you don’t try getting up again.” She wrung out the cloth, focusing on the task rather than the way her pulse quickened when he looked at her.
“That was one time.”
“One time too many.”
His tail shifted on the mattress, scales gleaming in the afternoon light. “You need rest, too.”
“I’m fine.” The lie came easily, though the dark circles under her eyes told a different story. Sleep had become a luxury she couldn’t afford—not when every labored breath from him sent fear coursing through her veins.
“Stubborn woman.” His hand caught hers as she reached to adjust his bandage. The touch sent warmth spreading up her arm. “At least sit down.”
She perched on the edge of the bed, hyper-aware of his thumb tracing circles on her wrist. No one had ever touched her with such gentleness before. It stirred something deep in her chest, unfamiliar yet welcome.
“Tell me a story.” His voice was rough with fatigue. “Anything to pass the time.”
“I don’t know many stories.” But she found herself talking anyway, sharing memories of quiet moments with Priscilla. He listened intently.
The afternoon light faded to dusk as she talked. Mila’s throat grew hoarse, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Every smile, every quiet laugh from him eased the knot of worry in her chest. He had become her anchor in the storm. When had that happened?
His eyes drifted closed, breaths evening out into sleep. She should move, check his bandages again, but his hand still held hers. Just a few more minutes, she told herself. Just to make sure he was really okay.
Mila watched Brivul’s chest rise and fall in steady rhythm, so different from the labored breathing of days past. His scales had regained their healthy sheen, no longer the sickly pallor that had terrified her.
The evidence against Kurg pressed against her hip where she’d sewn it into her pants pocket—her constant reminder of why they were here in the first place.
“I should’ve told you sooner,” she whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear her. “About everything. The real reason Kurg wanted me dead.”
The late afternoon sun painted shadows across his sleeping form. Even in rest, his massive tail curled protectively around her where she sat on the bed’s edge. She’d grown used to his presence, the way he made her feel safe without trying.
Her voice caught. “I’ve been keeping secrets.”
A gentle breeze stirred the curtains, carrying the scent of rain. Perfect weather for confessions , she thought with a wry smile. Her hand found his, his warm scales beneath her fingers.
“When you wake up, I’ll tell you everything.” The promise felt right, settling something restless in her chest. “About the evidence, about Kurg’s embezzlement. Maybe together we can figure out how to use it.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Mila pulled the blanket higher over his chest, careful not to disturb his bandages. Trust was a foreign concept after years of slavery, yet somehow this warrior had earned hers completely.
“You’ll probably tell me I was foolish to steal the evidence.” She smoothed a wrinkle from the blanket. “But you’ll help anyway. Won’t you? Because that’s who you are.”
The thought warmed her. For the first time since finding the evidence, hope flickered in her chest. With Brivul at her side, maybe they could actually bring Kurg down. Maybe they could save Priscilla from him.