Chapter 1 #2
The landscape around them screamed alien as soon as they left the garrison, twisted rock formations, patches of bioluminescent vegetation, and towering trees with bark that shifted color in the headlight beams. Strange, fern-like plants carpeted the ground between the rocks, their fronds moving idly. This wasn't Earth, that was for sure.
"How far to the site?" Caleb asked, his voice slightly distorted by the truck's comm system.
"About an hour at this speed," she replied, driving around a deep rut. "The access road's not great, but it's better than hiking with all the gear."
"Hell yeah," Liam snorted and settled back in his seat, pulling his cap down over his eyes. "Wake me up when we get there."
"Commander! Subcommander! Michelle—she's been snatched by a feral!"
Zeke's world tilted sideways as the young Izaean's words echoed in his skull.
Fury detonated in his chest—not his usual controlled burn, but something wild that clawed through his veins like molten steel. His claws began to drop, the sensation automatic, a result of muscle memory from countless battles. But this time felt wrong.
No.
He tried to retract them, tried to force them back through sheer will, but they wouldn't obey. The razor-sharp talons slid free with soft snicks that echoed through the command room. Three inches of lethality steel had been honed through years of combat.
The loss of control sent ice through his gut. In all his years on Parac'Norr, through every episode of rage and fury, he'd never lost his grip on his claws. They were weapons, tools to be deployed with precision. He controlled them; they did not control him.
Draanth. Panic sliced through him as he tried again to force them back.
A metallic taste flooded his mouth as adrenaline dumped into his system. His pulse hammered against his eardrums while the messenger's breath came in quick, uneven gasps.
Silence stretched through the room like a taut wire ready to snap. The air was thick, oppressive, and charged with tension.
One of the executives on the holographic display leaned forward, his face twisted with confusion and growing irritation.
"What the hell is going on? We demand to know what—"
Prince Isan's hand slammed down on the communication console with enough force to make the entire unit shudder. The humans' holograms flickered once, their forms wavering before they vanished, leaving the room in sudden silence.
Zeke stepped forward, looming over the messenger. He should wait for Kraath or Isan to take charge, but draanth that. Michelle was out there, and every second they wasted was a second she might not have.
The messenger was young, maybe twenty standard years, with the lean build of a youth who hadn't yet reached his full adult size.
His dark hair was cropped short, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool temperature of the command room.
The scent of his fear was sharp, cutting through the sterile air like a knife.
"Report," he growled, deeper and more dangerous than usual. "Everything. Now."
The messenger stammered and took a step back. Zeke followed, his eyes fixed on the kid's face. He towered over him until the boy had to crane his neck to meet his eyes.
"She—she was with two male human engineers at the secondary construction site," the youngster managed, his voice cracking on the words. "We were on patrol, returning to the garrison when we heard screams."
Screams. The word slammed into Zeke, knocking the air from his lungs.
The image of Michelle screaming in terror and pain surged through him.
His claws flexed, the movement sending sharp pain up his forearms. His temples pounded, and the taste of copper bloomed on his tongue; he'd split the inside of his cheek with his teeth.
"Continue." The word came out harsher than he'd intended.
"We smelled human blood in the air." The messenger's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "We ran to investigate and found two human males, brutally injured but alive."
Human blood. His heart nearly stopped. He grabbed the messenger by the shoulders and lifted him clean off the ground.
The kid weighed maybe a hundred and sixty pounds, nothing compared to Zeke's strength and his feet dangled uselessly as Zeke yanked him close enough to see every fleck of terror in his dark eyes.
Not red. Not feral. Draanth. The kid had no idea of the danger he was in.
"What about Michelle?" The words tore from his throat. "Where is she?"
The messenger's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as his face went purple. He clawed and scrabbled uselessly at Zeke's forearms.
Then a strong arm wedged itself between Zeke and the boy.
"Stand down, Zeke. Now," Isan snarled, the sound cutting through the red haze clouding his vision.
Turning his head, he locked eyes with the prince.
Isan's expression was calm, but his stance was ready, coiled with power.
The prince's blue eyes held no warmth, no sympathy.
Only determination and the willingness to do whatever was necessary to maintain order.
He'd seen that look before, usually right before Isan did something that left bodies on the ground.
The message was clear—the prince would put Zeke down if necessary, friendship be draanthed.
Slowly, fighting every instinct that screamed at him to shake answers from the messenger, he loosened his grip and set the boy back on his feet. His claws retracted with soft clicks, and he stepped back, tension vibrating through every cell in his body.
He gave a short, sharp nod.
The kid stumbled, catching himself against the wall. Rubbing the red marks on his throat with shaking hands, he shot nervous glances between Zeke and the prince like a prey animal caught between two predators.
"Tell me about Michelle," Zeke demanded, forcing his voice into something resembling calm. The words still carried an edge, but at least he wasn't growling anymore. "Now."
The messenger straightened with visible effort.
"We found one of the human drilling tools covered in feral blood. It looks like the female... she fought back." A note of admiration crept into his voice.
A grim tightness settled in Zeke's jaw. Michelle had fought back.
Of course she had. The woman who'd taken on the Purists with construction equipment turned into weaponry and righteous fury wouldn't go quietly into the wilderness.
But a drilling tool against a feral was like bringing a knife to a gunfight.
"There was a blood trail," the youngster continued. "And signs of a struggle leading into the forest, but we couldn't follow it."
"Why not?" Zeke snarled.
The young Izaean flicked a glance at Isan. "We had to get the injured humans back to the garrison for medical attention."
"Of course," Isan nodded, folding his arms across his broad chest. "Carry on."
"Why the draanth was she even out there with her injured leg?" Zeke ran a hand over his shaved scalp. "She should have been in her quarters, resting."
If he had his way, she'd have been in his quarters resting.
The messenger shook his head, eyes wide. "I don't know. I wasn't assigned to watch her. The engineers said she insisted on going for a site inspection this morning before the humans started their first shift."
Zeke spun toward Isan and Kraath, his temper flaring. "I need permission to pursue. Now."
Kraath shook his head, expression harder than granite.
"Not a good idea. The weather has been unstable since the legion weapon was fired.
Sensors have picked up atmospheric disturbances and significant electromagnetic interference.
Looks like we have a storm rolling in from the north, and it's going to be a bad one.
We've got maybe six hours before conditions become impossible. "
Six hours.
The words punched the air from his chest. Six hours while Michelle was alone in the wilderness with a creature that could tear her apart without breaking a sweat. Six hours while she bled, while she suffered. Six hours while she faced goddess alone knew what horrors.
"Then we go now," he growled. His claws threatened to emerge again, so he curled his fists tight to stop them.
"We move when I say we move," Kraath replied firmly. "I'll command the rescue party. You'll wait for assembly."
Zeke's entire body vibrated with the need to act, to run into that forest and tear apart anything that stood between him and Michelle.
The woman who'd smiled up at him when she caught the bouquet, soft and unguarded for a moment before her walls slammed back into place.
Every muscle was coiled tight, ready to explode into motion.
But the chain of command was the chain of command, even when every instinct screamed at him to ignore it.
"Draanth!" he snarled, the sound echoing off the stone walls of the command room, but he stayed put. Each second stretched, feeling like a lifetime.
Michelle was out there, and he was trapped here by protocol and procedure while she faced hell alone.
The waiting would destroy him long before any feral got the chance.