Chapter 24 Roqs
ROQS
We circled each other warily, both partially transformed, both riding the knife's edge between reason and instinct. Coone was smaller, faster, built for stealth and precision. I was larger, stronger, bred for dominance and raw power. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't have been a fair fight.
But these weren't normal circumstances. We were both half-mad with doubts and fear, both operating on pure emotion rather than strategy. When Coone launched himself at me again, I barely managed to catch him, his claws finding purchase in my shoulder as we went down in a tangle of limbs and fury.
We rolled across the camp, destroying what little remained of our supplies. Coone's teeth found my throat, not quite hard enough to puncture but enough to send sparks of pain through my nervous system. I retaliated by grabbing his tail, earning a yowl of outrage that probably woke half the forest.
"This won't bring him back," I panted as we broke apart, both of us bleeding from multiple shallow wounds.
"No," Coone agreed, wiping blood from his split lip. "But it feels good."
He came at me again, and this time I was ready. I caught him mid-leap, using his own speed against him to slam him into the nearest tree. The impact drove the breath from his lungs, but he recovered quickly, spinning to rake his claws down my ribs.
We fought with the desperate intensity of males who had too much pain and nowhere to put it.
Every blow carried the weight of our shared fear, our mutual love for the male we'd both failed to protect.
We fought until our muscles screamed in protest, until blood loss made us clumsy, until exhaustion finally drove us to our knees.
I found myself flat on my back, staring up at the stars while Coone collapsed beside me. We lay there in the ruins of our camp, breathing hard, letting the night air cool our overheated skin.
"Feel better?" I asked eventually.
"Marginally," he admitted. "You?"
"Like I've been trampled by a rakkor herd." I turned my head to look at him, taking in his disheveled appearance. His matte-red skin was marked with scratches and bruises, his usual perfect grooming destroyed by our battle. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. About all of it."
Though I was an Alpha, it was what set me—a Silver Tribe Alpha—apart from others. Our pride didn't get in the way of what was important. Most of the time, anyway.
Coone was quiet for a long moment, his golden eyes fixed on the sky above us. "He's really your fated mate? I heard how this Scarface saved Brynn."
"Yes." The word came out rougher than I intended. "I felt the bond forming weeks ago. I didn't know who he was, didn't know at first how deeply involved he was with Kilo."
"And Zirc?"
I closed my eyes, feeling the familiar ache that always accompanied thoughts of Zirc and his stubborn Silver Beast. "I love him. I've loved him since we were cubs training together. But he was never meant to be mine. Fate chose you for him."
"And chose someone else for you," Coone added softly, his tone losing some of its earlier venom.
"No," Coone agreed softly. "They're not." He rolled onto his side, studying my face with those penetrating golden eyes. "But that doesn't mean you have to choose between them."
I frowned. "What do you mean?" Had I cracked his head too hard during our fight? Earlier, he was all about me choosing.
Coone smirked as if he'd read my thoughts and told me I'd merely scratched him.
"Zirc and I have never been exclusive. We've always known that our bond was.
.. fluid. Open to others who might complete our circle, because I knew he would always have a Manasty mate.
" His expression grew thoughtful. "Maybe this Scarface isn't the enemy we think he is.
Maybe he's as trapped as the rest of us. "
The possibility hit me like a revelation. In my shock and guilt, I'd automatically assumed the worst—that Trill had chosen Kilo's cause, that he'd betrayed everything I thought he might stand for. But what if Coone was right? What if my mate was as much a victim as Zirc?
"The message said Zirc was injured but alive," I said slowly, hope beginning to kindle in my chest. "If Trill wanted him dead, why keep him breathing? The whole planet knows me and Zirc wanted to be mates. His beast would have been compelled to kill him on the spot."
"Exactly." Coone sat up, wincing as the movement pulled at his injuries. "And why send a message at all? Why risk exposure to let us know where Zirc is being held?"
"Because he wants us to come." The pieces were falling into place, painting a picture I'd been too blinded by emotion to see. "He's giving us intelligence. A way in."
"Or it's a trap," Coone pointed out pragmatically. "Your mate could be playing a deeper game than either of us realizes."
The doubt was fair, but something deep in my gut—some instinct tied to the developing bond between Trill and me—rejected the idea. Whatever my mate was involved in, whatever choices had led him to this point, I didn't believe he meant Zirc harm.
"There's only one way to find out," I said, forcing myself to sit up despite my protesting muscles. "We go to the Tundra. We will get Zirc back."
"And your mate?"
I met his eyes steadily. "We get him back too. If he wants to be saved."
Coone studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright. But if this goes sideways, if your fated bond is clouding your judgment and Zirc gets hurt because of it..."
"Then you have my permission to kill me yourself," I finished quietly.
"Deal." He struggled to his feet, extending a hand to help me up. "But first, we need medical supplies. And probably new clothes. We look like we've been mauled by wild animals."
I accepted his help, feeling something settle between us that hadn't been there before. Not friendship, exactly—there was still too much competition and territorial tension for that. But understanding. Shared purpose.
"Thank you," I said as we began gathering the scattered remains of our supplies.
"For what?"
"For making me choose. For forcing me to stop wallowing in guilt and start thinking clearly." I met his eyes. "Zirc is lucky to have you."
"He's lucky to have both of us," Coone corrected. "Even if we are too stupid to figure out how to share him properly."
I laughed despite everything, the sound rusty but genuine. "Maybe that's something we can work on. After we get him back."
"After," Coone agreed. "But first, we have a mountain to storm and a beast to rescue."
Unspoken was the fact that we wanted Brynn as far away as possible from that place.
As we broke camp and prepared for the journey to the Pit, I felt the weight of leadership settle on my shoulders like a familiar cloak.
I was the Alpha of the Silver Tribe, heir to a bloodline that had never bowed to any enemy.
That heritage demanded strength, demanded choices that lesser males couldn't make.
"Coone." My voice carried the authority that had commanded armies, the tone that brooked no argument. He looked up from securing his pack, and I saw him recognize the shift in me—from conflicted male to tribal leader.
"I will bring everything in my power to bear on rescuing Zirc," I said, each word a sacred vow. "Every resource, every connection, every drop of blood in my veins if necessary. I swear this to you on the honor of my ancestors."
He straightened, responding instinctively to the alpha command in my voice. "And your mate?"
I met his eyes steadily, letting him see the steel beneath my earlier uncertainty. "If I find that he chose this path willingly, if he serves Kilo out of loyalty rather than coercion..." I paused, feeling the weight of what I was about to promise. "Then I will do what must be done."
The words hung between us, heavy with unspoken meaning.
Coone's eyes widened slightly as he understood what I wasn't saying directly—that I would kill my own fated mate if necessary to save Zirc.
That the bond growing between my mate and me wouldn't stay my hand if he had betrayed everything I stood for.
"That's..." Coone's voice was hushed with something like awe. "That's not a choice any male should have to make."
"No," I agreed, shouldering my pack with grim determination. "But it's the choice of an Alpha. And Zirc deserves nothing less than that from me."
We set out for the Orange Tundra as the first light of dawn painted the horizon, two warriors united by shared purpose and the terrible weight of the decisions that lay ahead.
The Pit lay somewhere in that desolate wasteland—neutral ground where the most dangerous deals were made.
Behind us, the ashes of the droid critter scattered on the wind, carrying away the last traces of a message that would either save us all or damn us completely.
A few days from now would bring answers. And blood, if necessary.
I was ready for both.