Chapter 3 #3
Chaos flicked away the niggling thought that the Fly-mortal was going to be an even bigger problem than he anticipated. Null would undo that human.
The word persisted.
Love.
A small thing. A single mortal syllable that, having been correctly dismissed, declined to leave, lodging somewhere beneath thought like a splinter too fine to find.
He attributed it to the wards. To fatigue.
To the irritation of a plan delayed. He was Chaos, the loose thread and the slipping knot, the space between what happened and what was remembered, and he didn’t waste himself wondering at the noises mortals made.
He tried to discard it, but no matter how much he hated it, the word remained.
* * *
Lechuza heard the soft tread of a foot on concrete. Adrenaline spiked through her, and she grabbed her sidearm, swung her body, and immediately had a bead of the man who stood there with his own weapon drawn.
A heavy, relieved exhale followed. “O-voo! What the hell? I almost shot you. What are you doing here?”
He holstered his weapon and rushed over, extended a hand, and helped her off the floor.
“Well, it’s good to see you, too, cranky.”
“I have a right to be cranky. My former part—”
“Current partner.”
She waved her hand. “Semantics.”
“No, it’s not, lady, and you know it.”
She paused and looked up at him, her features relaxing.
Six-feet-two inches of African man, descended from Zulu warriors.
American born and bred, Ndhlovu had taken his callsign from his cultural heritage as was the Shadowguard’s way.
Always animal, always meaningful. They had been paired for a long time.
She’d never been able to pronounce his name and simply called him O-voo.
After Eva, she had given him a hard time, stayed guarded, until he simply wore her down with his special brand of wisdom and honor that was as big as his heart. She’d learned trust again, but with a bitter edge she couldn’t seem to let go of.
She cupped his face. “You’re risking everything for me, my elephant.” Her voice hitched. “I can hardly bear it. If you or Bagh get caught…” She dropped her hand. “Where is he?”
“Right behind you, beautiful,” Bagh whispered in her ear.
She turned around and smacked at him, but he was already dancing away.
“Damn you.” Bagh, Nepalese for Bengal Tiger, hadn’t changed one bit.
He was descended from the Gurkha, lethal warriors who never quit.
He still had that charming shaggy black hair, dangerous smile, those sharp, compelling features, and that muscular, rangy body he commanded with utmost power.
Those eyes of his were deep, almost black, rimmed with kohl.
They flowed over her like he hadn’t forgotten one curve or strand of hair but wanted to look anyway.
She didn’t dismiss him. She would never dishonor him like that, but her look was pure fire. Her heart was taken, and he would just have to deal with it.
He chuckled. “The big man was all boohooing about you. I told him you were fine. Aren’t you?” His defiant, challenging eyes shifted to O-voo.
“You all felt it. Didn’t you?”
“A shift in the fucking cosmos. Man, it rattled my bones. What the hell happened?” Bagh said, and she could see the truth on O-voo’s face.
“I don’t know, but something isn’t right.” She pushed a button on her belt, and all the equipment started to rise from the floor.
“That is still so cool,” Bagh said, pulling an apple out of somewhere and crunching into it. “Don’t worry. Your secret bat cave is still hidden.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I had to make sure you got the message. Command is sending new Reavers after you,” O-voo said solemnly.
She stiffened. “Who?”
“Komodo and Krait.”
“That’s a formidable duo.”
O-voo's expression darkened. "You understand what this means, right? Komodo doesn't hunt people. He waits for them to make a mistake, then he takes them. And Krait..." He shook his head. "She's never failed an interrogation. Never failed a kill order."
"Komodo's the one who tracked Fenrir when he went dark," Bagh added quietly, his usual humor gone. "His own partner. Didn't hesitate. That kind of cold precision, combined with Krait's psychological warfare? They're not just coming to arrest you, Lechuza."
"They're coming to break you first, then decide if you're worth keeping alive," O-voo finished grimly. "Komodo will plan the perfect trap, and Krait will get inside your head until you don't know which way is up."
“They’re not going to matter. They have to catch me first, and I have you guys to back me up.”
Bagh finished off his apple and tossed the core into a trash can across the room. “Say the word, sweetheart. My knives are always sharp.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone, Bagh. I hope it doesn’t come to that. But I didn’t commit any of the crimes for which I’m being accused.”
“We know that.”
She nodded. “I have to clear my name. You understand that or you wouldn’t be risking your lives, your freedom, or—" She rubbed at her chest, just above her heart, a phantom ache spiking, unable to shake the feeling that there was way more than her honor at stake. She shook it off.
“That’s not all,” O-voo said.
“What?”
“They’re teaming up with the SEALs.”
Her stomach dropped. “What team?”
“EAST. Flash’s.”
"No." The word came out sharp, panicked. She turned away, pressing her hands against the workstation, fighting the wave of emotions crashing through her. "Not him. Anyone but him."
“What, your lover boy will be too distracting? Make your heart go pitty-pat.” Bagh's voice carried a knowing amusement, but there was just a hint of bitterness underneath.
Her hands tightened on the workstation's edge.
Her shoulders tensed. The mention of him hit at her in places she couldn’t control, reminding her of strong hands and gray eyes and the way he'd looked at her like she was something precious instead of dangerous.
"Put a sock in it, Bagh," O-voo growled.
"I can't have him involved," she said, her voice strained. "He doesn't understand what he's walking into. Komodo will use him as bait, and Krait will tear apart anyone who gets between her and her target. Flash and his team are walking into a psychological minefield."
"Maybe that's not your choice to make," O-voo said quietly. "Maybe he's already made his."
She spun to face them, fear and anger mingling. "He's being sent to hunt me down. To capture me. Do you understand what that means?"
Bagh studied her with those sharp, dark eyes. "Means you're going to have to decide what matters more. The mission or the man."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Something cracked in her chest, the careful control she'd built around her heart starting to fracture.
"The mission," she said finally, but the words felt like ash in her mouth. "It has to be the mission."
O-voo and Bagh exchanged a look that said they didn't believe her for a second.
When they were gone, she left the command center after settling it for the night, retiring to her repurposed traffic control tower. Inside, she left the lights off, needing the darkness.
Could she hide from herself?
She pressed her palm flat against the window, taking in the desert’s beauty, the star-studded sky, longing flowing hard and liquid through her.
Her breath caught just from the memory of how Jae "Flash" Shaw moved with the economy of a predator, all coiled energy and controlled power.
His was a lean, sinewy strength, the kind forged through relentless conditioning rather than bulk, suggesting stamina that could outlast the storm.
A sharp, angular face was framed by hair the color of midnight, but it was the silvery scar that cut a clean path through his eyebrow and down his cheekbone that drew the eye, a permanent reminder of violence narrowly survived.
What truly rattled her, though, were his arresting gray eyes.
The color of a squall line gathering on the horizon, holding an unnerving stillness that seemed to catalog every micro-expression, every flicker of doubt.
Yet, when he chose to deploy it, his wit was a weapon, a dry, unexpected humor that could slice through tension with the same lethal efficiency he applied to everything else.
That craving that never went away washed over her, and her head dropped to the glass. “Hunting me will kill you. Please stay away. Please, Jae.” Her breath wisped out. “Please.”