Chapter 12
Cullen
It took us a solid day to work our way back down the mountain.
Hours of careful movement through increasingly dense jungle, every step calculated to avoid detection.
The sun had begun its descent toward the horizon, the twin yellow suns dipping toward the horizon, their light refracting through the dense canopy in shades of gold and amber.
Long shadows stretched across the forest floor, and the temperature—mercifully—had started to drop.
We moved in silence, communicating through hand signals and shared glances. Serna led the way with the confidence of a warrior who'd spent her life in hostile territory. I followed, watching her back, my makeshift machete ready in case we encountered another caphik or worse.
But it wasn't wildlife I was worried about.
As we drew closer to the crash site, I could hear them—voices carrying through the jungle, the snap of branches, the occasional bark of orders in languages I didn't recognize. Riuondo's crew, fanning out through the forest in search patterns. Looking for us.
Serna held up a fist, and I froze. She tilted her head, listening, then pointed to our left. I nodded. We adjusted our path, giving the search party a wide berth, and continued our careful approach.
By the time we reached a vantage point overlooking the crash site, the suns were touching the horizon and the jungle was alive with the sounds of evening—insects chirping, something howling in the distance, the rustle of nocturnal creatures beginning their hunts.
"There," Serna breathed, barely audible.
I followed her gaze and saw it—Riuondo's shuttle, sleek and predatory, sitting in a clearing near our wrecked ship. Portable lights had been set up around the perimeter, casting harsh white illumination across the scene. Our ship looked even worse from this angle—a twisted skeleton of metal.
And standing guard near the shuttle's ramp were two figures. Just two.
"Most of them are out searching," I murmured, pressing closer to Serna behind the massive tree trunk that concealed us. "That's our window."
"If we're going to move, it needs to be soon." She agreed, glancing at the darkening sky. "Once full night falls, they'll likely recall the search parties. We'll lose our advantage."
I studied the layout, my mind automatically cataloging distances, cover points, potential threats.
The two guards were armed—I could see the distinctive silhouettes of energy weapons at their hips.
They looked alert but not overly concerned.
Why would they be? As far as they knew, we were somewhere in the jungle, running scared, with no way off this planet.
They had no idea we were about to walk straight into their trap.
"I'll go," I said quietly. "You stay here, provide cover, hide if things go sideways."
Serna's head whipped toward me so fast I heard her neck crack. "Absolutely not."
"Serna—"
"No." Her voice was low but fierce. "You stay here. I'll breach the shuttle. I'm faster, better trained for infiltration, and—"
"And you're the Prime," I cut in, matching her intensity. "If something happens to you, the entire Alliance falls apart. Riuondo wins. I'm expendable. You're not."
Her eyes flashed with something dangerous. "Don't you dare call yourself expendable."
"I'm being practical—"
"You're being an idiot." She shifted to face me fully, and even in the fading light, I could see the fury and fear warring in her expression. "I won't let you sacrifice yourself for me."
"That's exactly what I'm going to do if it means keeping you safe."
"Like hell you are."
We were nose to nose now, both of us breathing hard, the argument taking on an edge that had nothing to do with tactics and everything to do with the terror of losing each other.
"I've been a soldier my entire life," I said, forcing my voice to stay level. "I know how to move unseen, how to breach hostile positions. This is what I do, Serna. Let me do it."
"And I've been a warrior since I could walk," she shot back. "I won the Prime trials through combat and strategy. I've led armies, Cullen. I've fought in battles you can't even imagine. Don't patronize me by suggesting I need protection."
"I'm not—" I stopped, frustrated, because she was right. I wasn't trying to protect her because she was weak. I was trying to protect her because the thought of losing her made my chest feel like it was caving in. "I can't watch you walk into danger."
Something in her expression softened. "And you think I can watch you do it? You think I can sit here while you risk your life?"
"One of us has to—"
"No." She grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me closer. "No, we don't. We're stronger together."
"This is different—"
"It's not." Her voice dropped to something raw and vulnerable. "Cullen, I just found you. I just found this—" She gestured between us, at the connection that had been building since the moment we met. "I'm not losing you. Not to Riuondo. Not to some misguided sense of duty. Not to anything."
I stared at her, at the fierce determination in her eyes, at the way her hands trembled slightly where they gripped my shirt. And I realized she was just as terrified as I was. Just as desperate to keep me safe.
"I can't lose you," I said, the words coming out rough and unplanned. "I can't—"
She kissed me.
Hard and desperate and full of everything we couldn't say. I felt her fear in that kiss, her love, her absolute refusal to let me go. My hands came up to frame her face, and I kissed her back with equal intensity, pouring everything I felt into that moment.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, she pressed her forehead to mine.
"Together," she whispered. "We do this together, or we don't do it at all."
I wanted to argue. Every instinct I had screamed at me to protect her, to keep her safe, to take the risk myself. But looking into her eyes, I saw the same instinct reflected back at me. She wanted to protect me just as fiercely.
And maybe that was what being mates meant. Not one person sacrificing for the other, but both of them standing together, facing whatever came as equals.
"Together," I agreed finally.
Relief flooded her expression. She kissed me again, softer this time, and I felt something settle in my chest. A rightness. A certainty.
We'd face this together. Whatever happened.
"We need a plan," I said when we separated. "A real one. If we're both going in—"
"We create a distraction," Serna said immediately, her tactical mind already working. "Draw one guard away from the shuttle. Take him out quietly. Then we move on the second guard —fast and coordinated."
"And once we're inside?"
"We find the communications array, send a distress signal, and get the hell out before anyone realizes what we've done."
It was a good plan. Simple, direct, with minimal room for things to go catastrophically wrong. Which meant, of course, that things would probably go catastrophically wrong.
But it was our only shot.
"Okay," I said. "Let's—"
Serna held up a hand, her head tilting. "Wait. Look."
I followed her gaze and saw movement near the shuttle. One of the guards was walking away from his post, heading toward the tree line. A patrol, maybe, or just boredom.
"That's our opening," Serna breathed.
But even as she said it, the light was fading fast. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the jungle was transforming into a realm of shadows and uncertain shapes. The portable lights around the shuttle created harsh pools of illumination, but between them, darkness reigned.
"We can't move now," I said reluctantly. "Not in the dark, not without knowing the terrain better. We'd make too much noise, alert them before we got close. Plus the search parties might be returning."
Serna's jaw tightened, but she nodded. "You're right. We wait until first light. When the search parties move out again."
It made tactical sense. But it also meant spending the night here, within sight of our enemies, knowing that every hour brought the risk of discovery.
"We need to find better cover," Serna said, scanning our surroundings. "Somewhere we can rest without being seen."
We moved carefully through the darkening jungle, staying low, until Serna found what she was looking for—a natural alcove formed by three massive trees whose roots had grown together, creating a hollow space beneath them.
Dense foliage surrounded it, and the entrance was barely visible even from a few feet away.
A creek ran nearby, its water bubbling over smooth stones with a constant, gentle murmur. The sound would help mask any noise we made. It was perfect.
"Here," she said, ducking inside.
I followed, and found myself in a space just large enough for both of us to lie down. The ground was covered in soft moss, and the air smelled of earth and growing things. Through gaps in the foliage, I could see the distant glow of the shuttle's lights, but we were completely hidden.
It was as safe as we were going to get.
Serna settled against the far wall of the alcove, and I positioned myself near the entrance, keeping watch. The jungle around us was alive with sound—insects, night birds, the occasional rustle of something moving through the underbrush. But nothing that sounded like pursuit.
"We should rest," Serna said quietly. "Take turns keeping watch."
"You first," I said. "I'll wake you in a few hours."
She didn't argue, which told me how exhausted she was. She closed her eyes, and within minutes, her breathing had evened out into the rhythm of sleep.
I sat there in the darkness, watching the distant lights, listening to the jungle, and thinking about tomorrow. About what we were about to attempt. About all the ways it could go wrong.
About how much I had to lose now.