Chapter 12 #2
I moved before I could think. Three steps and I had him by the throat, slamming him back against the wall hard enough to crack the metal paneling.
The impact reverberated through my arm, through my chest, satisfying in a way that made my blood sing. His eyes went wide—shock first, then fear as his hands came up to claw at my wrist. Weak. Ineffectual. Human fingers scrabbling against Vaktaire strength like a flower against stone.
"You're going to die," I said quietly, and the words tasted like copper and ash on my tongue. Like blood. Like justice. "I'm going to tear you apart for what you did to her. For what you're trying to do now."
He couldn't speak. Could barely breathe. His mouth opened and closed, gasping, his face shifting from red to purple as the oxygen stopped reaching his brain.
Good.
He was dying. Right now. In my hands.
And gods help me, it felt right.
My hand tightened incrementally. His pulse stuttered beneath my grip—skipping, weakening, the rhythm faltering as his body began to shut down.
Thirty seconds, maybe less. That's all it would take.
Thirty seconds to crush his windpipe completely.
Another minute to be certain he was dead and not just unconscious.
Then what?
I could be out of this office in seconds.
The lower levels had maintenance tunnels—I'd mapped them during my reconnaissance, memorized every junction and access point.
If I could reach Merrilee before anyone discovered the body, we could disappear into the tunnels and make our way to the wastelands.
Persico's compound was massive, but it had weak points. The eastern wall backed onto the old industrial sector, mostly abandoned now. We could slip through there, lose ourselves in the maze of derelict structures and scrap heaps.
By the time they found Hewes's corpse, we'd be halfway to the mountains
It could work.
The thought blazed through me like fire, intoxicating and dangerous. Freedom. Escape. Merrilee safe. Hewes dead. Everything I wanted within reach if I just squeezed a little harder, held on a little longer.
It would work.
My claws dug deeper. I felt them scrape against cartilage, felt his windpipe beginning to collapse beneath the pressure. His struggles were weakening—hands falling away from my wrist, body going slack, eyes rolling back.
Just a few more seconds.
My vision narrowed to the sight of his face—purple now, lips blue, consciousness fading. The pulse beneath my palm was barely there anymore. Faint. Irregular. Dying.
My hand tightened.
Then I heard it. A soft chime from his desk.
Hewes's eyes flickered toward the sound—barely conscious and something in his expression shifted. Even choking, even dying, he looked triumphant.
Every instinct I had screamed danger.
I released him.
He collapsed against the desk, gasping, one hand going to his throat. The other reached for the comm unit.
"I thought you might react poorly," he wheezed. He tapped the screen, and a live feed appeared.
Merrilee.
The world stopped.
Not metaphorically. It actually stopped—sound cutting out, vision tunneling, every system in my body slamming to a halt as my brain tried to process what I was seeing.
She was walking through Persico's compound. Her head was down, shoulders slightly hunched in that way she had when she was thinking too hard about something. Unaware. Vulnerable.
And behind her, barely visible in the shadows, was a cloaked figure with a blaster.
The weapon was aimed at her back.
My vision whited out at the edges. Not red this time—white. Pure, blinding white that narrowed my entire existence down to a single point: the barrel of that blaster tracking the space between her shoulder blades.
"Hurt me," Hewes said, his voice still rough but gaining strength, "and she's dead. Not wounded. Not captured. Dead. Do you understand?"
This was the trap. This had always been the trap.
He'd known I would try to kill him. Known that the moment he mentioned Merrilee, I would lose control. He'd planned for it. Set up this exact scenario so that when I finally snapped—when I finally let my rage override my caution—he would have the one thing that could stop me.
Her.
My strength meant nothing. My training meant nothing. My years of survival, my carefully honed instincts, my ability to kill with brutal efficiency—none of it mattered.
I couldn't kill him. Couldn't even hurt him. Because the second I did, she died.
And I couldn't let her die.
Not for revenge. Not for justice. Not for anything.
"I'll take your silence as a yes." Hewes straightened, adjusting his collar. He cleared his throat and it sounded painful. Good.
"Here's how this is going to work," he instructed "You're going to lose your fight against Korroth. You're going to make it look good—I don't want Persico getting suspicious—but you're going to lose. Korroth will win Merrilee."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then she dies. Right now. While you watch." He gestured to the screen. "Your choice, Ahrick."
Every instinct I had screamed at me to kill him. To rip his throat out and damn the consequences. To end this monster before he could hurt anyone else.
But I couldn't.
Because Merrilee was on that screen, alive and whole and unaware of the weapon aimed at her spine.
"Fine," I said, the word tasting like poison. "I'll lose the fight."
"Good." Hewes smiled again, that same cold, satisfied smile. "I knew you'd see reason. You Vaktaire are so predictable when it comes to your mates."
My hands clenched into fists. "How did you—"
The word died in my throat.
Mates.
He'd said it so casually. So certain. Like it was obvious fact rather than the secret I'd been guarding with every breath, every careful glance, every measured word.
I'd been so fucking careful. Never touched her where anyone saw. Never let my gaze linger too long in public spaces. Never positioned myself too close, too protective, too anything that might give away what she was to me.
And yet somehow, this bastard had seen through it all.
"Surprised?" Hewes' smile widened at whatever he saw in my face. "You shouldn't be. I didn't get where I am by being unobservant." He circled his desk, clearly enjoying my shock.
My jaw clenched so hard I heard my teeth grind.
I've been watching you two for weeks. The way you look at her. The way you position yourself between her and any potential threat." He leaned forward, grinning. "You're not as subtle as you think, warrior."
I said nothing. There was nothing to say.
Hewes tapped the screen again, and the feed shifted. Now it showed the fighting pits. The schedule. "There will be another fight in a couple of days. If you survive Korroth and win that fight, you can have Merrilee back."
"If she's still alive," I said flatly.
"Exactly." His smile widened.
He was enjoying this. Every word. Every moment of my helplessness.
I wanted to kill him so badly my hands shook with it.
"We're done here," Hewes said, dismissing me with a wave. "The fight is tomorrow night. Don't disappoint me, Ahrick. Merrilee's life depends on it."
I turned and walked out before I did something that would get her killed.
The door sealed behind me with a soft hiss that sounded too final. Too absolute.
The corridor was empty. Silent except for the distant hum of life support systems and the harsh rasp of my own breathing echoing off the walls. Dim emergency lighting cast everything in shades of rust and shadow, making the passage feel like a tomb.
My hands were shaking.
Not the controlled tremor of adrenaline preparing for violence. This was different. Deeper. The kind of shaking that came from muscles locked too tight for too long, from a body that had prepared to kill and been forced to abort mid-strike.
I'd been seconds away from crushing Hewes's windpipe. Seconds away from feeling his pulse stop beneath my grip, from watching the light fade from his eyes, from ending the monster who'd kidnapped Merrilee's siblings and was trying to trade her life like currency.
And I'd stopped.
The weight of that choice settled into my chest like a stone. Heavy. Suffocating. Wrong in a way that made my entire body rebel against it.
Every instinct I had screamed that I'd made a mistake. That I should go back in there, finish what I'd started, damn the consequences.
But I couldn't move.
Because she was still out there. Still vulnerable. Still alive only because I'd surrendered.
I pushed off the wall and forced myself to keep walking. One step. Then another.
The knowledge sat in my gut like poison. I'd agreed to lose the fight. Agreed to hand her over to Korroth—a Draxian. A species that had a reputation for brutality that made even hardened fighters nervous.
I'd agreed to let him take her.
The corridor stretched ahead of me, empty and silent, and I wanted to put my fist through the wall. Wanted to tear something apart with my bare hands just to release the pressure building in my chest.
But I kept walking.
Because losing control now wouldn't help her.
I'd told Hewes yes.
I lied.
I would never let Korroth touch her.
My mind started racing, sorting through possibilities, discarding them just as quickly. There had to be something. Some angle I wasn't seeing. Some weakness in that I could exploit.
I just had to figure it out before I stepped into that ring.
I would find a way. I had to
She was already written into my heartbeat, whether I'd completed the bond or not.
And I would burn this entire city to ash before I let anyone take that away from me.