Chapter 13
Serna
We moved through the dawn like ghosts.
Every step was calculated, every breath controlled.
The jungle around us was alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures finishing their hunts, but we made no sound at all.
Cullen moved ahead of me, his makeshift blade in one hand and the blaster in the other, his body low and fluid.
I followed with my quarterstaff—the sturdy branch I'd claimed after killing the caphik, now stripped of bark, ends sharpened to a point and balanced perfectly in my hands.
My heart beat steady in my chest. Cullen's heart beat in perfect synchronization with mine.
The sensation was still new enough to be distracting—feeling his pulse as clearly as my own, knowing that every beat connected us in a way that transcended flesh and bone. But I couldn't afford distraction. Not now.
Through the trees ahead, I could see the harsh white glow of the portable lights surrounding Riuondo's shuttle.
The vessel sat in the clearing like a predator at rest—sleek, dangerous, waiting.
Two guards stood near the ramp, their postures slack with exhaustion.
They'd been on duty all night, and it showed.
Cullen held up a fist, and I froze. He pointed to the left, then made a circling motion. I nodded.
We moved.
The ground was soft beneath my feet, the moss and fallen leaves muffling our steps.
I could smell the acrid scent of burned electronics from our wrecked ship, mixed with the sweet rot of jungle vegetation.
The sun hadn't yet broken the horizon, but the sky was lightening—that gray pre-dawn that made shadows uncertain and depth perception tricky.
We had maybe twenty minutes before full daylight. Maybe less.
Cullen reached the edge of the clearing first and dropped into a crouch behind a twisted piece of hull plating. I settled beside him, close enough that our shoulders touched. Through the gap in the debris, I could see both guards clearly now.
One was Romvesian—tall, broad-shouldered, with the distinctive ridge of bone along his brow.
The other was a Kaelaks, humanoid but with green skin that gleamed faintly in the artificial light.
Both were armed with energy rifles slung across their backs, and both looked like they'd rather be sleeping.
Good.
Cullen leaned close, his breath warm against my ear. "I'll take the Romvesian. You get the other one. Fast and quiet."
I nodded. My grip tightened on the quarterstaff.
We waited. Watching. Looking for the perfect moment.
It came when the Kaelaks turned away to scan the tree line, his back to us. The Romvesian was looking down at something on his wrist—a comm device, maybe, or just checking the time.
Cullen moved first.
He was fast—faster than I'd expected for a human.
He crossed the distance in seconds, his movements fluid and silent.
The Romvesian never saw him coming. Cullen's arm came around the guard's throat in a chokehold, cutting off air and blood flow simultaneously.
The guard's hands came up, scrabbling, but Cullen had already shifted his weight, dragging the larger male down and back.
I was already moving toward the Kaelaks.
He heard something—the soft scuff of Cullen's boots, maybe, or the Romvesian's strangled gasp. He started to turn, his hand reaching for the rifle on his back.
Too slow.
I swung the quarterstaff in a tight arc, catching him across the temple with the reinforced end. The impact made a sickening crack. His eyes rolled back and he dropped like a stone, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Cullen lowered the Romvesian carefully, checking his pulse. "Out cold. He'll wake up with a hell of a headache, but he'll live."
"Same here." I knelt beside the scaled guard, relieving him of his rifle and the knife at his belt. The weapon was unfamiliar—some kind of energy blade. I deactivated it and tucked it into my belt.
Cullen took the Romvesian's blaster and checked the charge. "Seventy percent. That'll work."
We dragged both guards into the shadows beneath our wrecked ship, binding their hands and feet with strips torn from their own uniforms. They wouldn't be going anywhere when they woke up.
Then we turned toward the shuttle.
The ramp was down, the interior dark except for the faint glow of emergency lighting. No movement. No sound except the hum of the ship's systems.
It felt wrong.
Too quiet. Too easy.
But we didn't have a choice.
Cullen went first, the blaster raised and ready, moving up the ramp with the confidence of someone who'd breached hostile positions before. I followed close behind, my quarterstaff held low and ready, every sense straining for signs of danger.
The interior of the shuttle smelled like recycled air and something else—something sharp and chemical that made my nose wrinkle. The corridor was narrow, lined with storage compartments and access panels. Emergency lights cast everything in a sickly green glow.
Empty.
We moved deeper into the ship, our footsteps silent on the deck plates. Cullen checked each compartment as we passed, clearing them with quick, efficient movements. All empty. All quiet.
The cockpit was at the far end of the main corridor, maybe thirty meters away. Between us and it were crew quarters, a small galley, and what looked like a cargo hold.
We were halfway there when we encountered the first guards.
Two of them emerged from the galley—a Ardesian and an Ulkommenian, both armed. They saw us at the same instant we saw them.
The Ardesian's eyes widened. His hand went for his weapon.
Cullen fired first.
The energy bolt caught the male in the chest, and he went down hard.
The Ulkommenian dove sideways, bringing her own weapon up, but I was already moving.
I closed the distance in three strides and swung the quarterstaff in a vicious arc that caught her across the forearm.
Bone cracked. She screamed and dropped the weapon.
I didn't give her time to recover. I reversed the staff and drove the end into her solar plexus, knocking the air from her lungs. She collapsed, gasping.
"Bind them," Cullen said, already moving past me toward the cockpit. "Fast."
I used more strips of cloth to secure both guards, then followed Cullen. My heart was pounding now—not from exertion, but from adrenaline and the growing certainty that we were running out of time.
The cockpit door was closed but not locked. Cullen positioned himself to one side, blaster ready, and nodded to me. I hit the door control.
It slid open with a soft hiss.
The cockpit was empty.
But the communications array was right there—a beautiful, functional piece of technology that could reach Alliance space if we could just—
"Now!" someone shouted from behind us.
I spun, bringing the quarterstaff up, but it was already too late.
They poured into the corridor from every direction—crew quarters, cargo hold, even from access panels I hadn't realized were there. A dozen of them. Maybe more. All armed. All moving with coordinated precision.
This wasn't a skeleton crew left behind while the others searched.
This was an ambush.
"Cullen!" I shouted, but he'd already seen them. He fired into the mass of bodies, dropping one, then another, but there were too many. They kept coming, a wave of violence and fury that crashed over us like a tsunami.
I fought.
By the stars, I fought.
The quarterstaff became an extension of my body—spinning, striking, blocking.
I caught one attacker across the jaw, heard teeth crack.
Reversed and drove the end into another's gut.
Swept the legs out from under a third. My Vaktaire training took over, muscle memory and instinct guiding every movement.
But they kept coming.
A blade sliced across my shoulder—shallow but painful. I spun and caught my attacker across the throat with the staff, dropping him. But two more took his place. Then three.
Cullen was fighting just as hard, using the blaster as a club when he ran out of charge, his makeshift blade flashing in the emergency lighting. He was good—better than good. He moved like the warrior he'd been trained to be, efficient and brutal.
But we were outnumbered five to one.
Maybe more.
I felt the moment we started losing. It was subtle at first—a step back instead of forward, a defensive block instead of an offensive strike. The tide was turning against us, and there was nothing we could do to stop it.
"Serna!" Cullen's voice, sharp with warning.
I turned and saw the massive Torven coming at me from the side, a shock baton raised. I tried to bring the staff up to block, but someone grabbed it from behind, yanking it from my hands. The Torven's baton caught me in the ribs, and pain exploded through my chest.
I went down hard.
Through the haze of pain, I saw Cullen trying to reach me. He fought like a man possessed, his face twisted with fury and desperation. But they swarmed him—four, five, six of them—dragging him down through sheer weight of numbers.
"No!" I tried to get up, tried to reach him, but hands grabbed me from every direction. Someone kicked my legs out from under me. Another blow caught me across the back of the head, and stars exploded across my vision.
I heard Cullen shouting my name.
I heard the sickening thud of fists hitting flesh.
I heard my own voice screaming in rage and fear and helplessness.
Then rough hands yanked my arms behind my back, binding my wrists with something that bit into my skin. I was hauled to my feet, my head spinning, my ribs screaming in protest.
Across the corridor, they were doing the same to Cullen. His face was bloodied, one eye already swelling shut, but he was still fighting—still trying to break free even as they secured his hands.
Our eyes met.
In that moment, I felt his heartbeat via the true mate connection—racing, furious, terrified. Not for himself. For me.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, though I knew he couldn't hear me over the chaos. "I'm so sorry."
They dragged us through the shuttle, past the guards we'd taken down, past the empty cockpit that had been so close. So impossibly close.
The cargo hold had been converted into something else—a command center, maybe, or an interrogation room. Portable equipment lined the walls, and in the center of it all, standing with his arms crossed and a smile on his face, was Riuondo Barkaze.
He looked exactly as I remembered—tall, powerfully built, with the distinctive Romvesian features and those cold, calculating eyes. But there was something else now. Something that hadn't been there during the trials.
Madness.
"Lady Prime," he said, his voice dripping with false courtesy. "How kind of you to accept my invitation."
They threw us to our knees in front of him. I felt the impact jar through my injured ribs, but I refused to cry out. Refused to give him the satisfaction.
Beside me, Cullen was breathing hard, blood dripping from the reopened cut above his eye. But his gaze was steady, defiant.
Riuondo walked slowly around us, studying us like specimens. "I must admit, I'm impressed. You made it farther than I expected." He stopped in front of me, tilting his head. "But did you really think I wouldn't anticipate this? That I wouldn't prepare for exactly this scenario?"
I said nothing. Just stared up at him with all the hatred I could muster.
He smiled. "No clever retort? No wisdom to share?
" He crouched down, bringing his face level with mine.
"You always were so good at maintaining that composure.
Even during the trials, when I knew you were terrified, you never let it show.
It's what made you win, you know. Not your strength or your intelligence.
Your ability to hide what you really felt. "
"And your inability to control your emotions is what made you lose," I said quietly.
His smile vanished. His hand shot out, grabbing my jaw in a grip that made my teeth ache. "Careful, Prime. You're not in a position to insult me."
"Then kill me and be done with it."
"Oh, I will." He released my jaw and stood. "But not yet. First, we're going to have a conversation. About the future of the Alliance. About succession. About what happens when a Prime abdicates."
My blood ran cold.
"You see," Riuondo continued, pacing now, his hands clasped behind his back, "I've had a lot of time to think.
A lot of time to plan. And I've realized something important.
If I kill you, the Council will never accept me as Prime.
Your blood on my hands would make me a murderer, not a leader.
" He stopped, turning to face me. "But if you abdicate voluntarily, if you name me as your successor...
well, that's different, isn't it? That's legal. That's legitimate."
"I'll never—"
"You will." He nodded to someone behind us. "Because if you don't, I'm going to hurt him." He pointed at Cullen. "I'm going to hurt him in ways you can't imagine. And I'm going to make you watch."
Cullen's voice was rough but steady. "Don't listen to him, Serna. Don't—"
One of the guards hit him across the face, snapping his head to the side. Blood sprayed from his mouth.
"Stop!" The word tore from my throat before I could stop it.
Riuondo's smile returned. "There it is. That's what I wanted to see. The great Lady Prime, finally showing some emotion." He gestured to the guards. "Take them to the holding cells. Let them think about their situation. We'll begin negotiations in the morning."
They hauled us to our feet and dragged us from the cargo hold. I tried to fight, tried to break free, but my hands were bound and my ribs screamed with every movement. Beside me, Cullen was in no better shape.
We'd failed.
We'd been so close—so impossibly close—and we'd failed.
As they threw us into separate cells, I caught one last glimpse of Cullen's face. Bloodied. Bruised. But his eyes met mine, and down the bond, I felt what he was trying to tell me.
Not over. Not yet.
The cell door slammed shut, and I was alone in the darkness.
But I could still feel Cullen's heartbeat, steady and strong, matching mine.
We were true mates.
And somehow, we were going to survive this.