Chapter 17 #3
She released the staff, letting Riuondo's momentum carry him forward, and drove her knee into his gut. As he doubled over, she grabbed his wrist—the one holding the blade—and twisted.
Bone snapped. The blade clattered to the floor.
Riuondo roared and backhanded her across the face.
She went down hard, blood streaming from her split lip.
"No!" I strained against the restraints, desperate to help her, but I was too weak. Too broken. All I could do was watch.
Riuondo advanced on her, murder in his eyes.
Serna rolled, grabbed the fallen blade, and came up in a crouch.
They circled each other, both breathing hard, both bleeding.
"You can't win," Riuondo said. "Even if you kill me, my supporters will tear the Alliance apart. Everything you've built will crumble."
"Then I'll rebuild it." Serna's voice was steady. "But you won't be alive to see it."
She lunged.
The blade flashed in the red emergency lighting. Once, twice, three times.
Riuondo tried to block, but he was too slow. The blade found his throat on the third strike, opening it in a spray of dark blood.
He staggered back, hands clutching at the wound. His eyes were wide with shock and disbelief.
Then he laughed, but it was a wet, rasping sound.
"Enslak," he choked out, blood bubbling from his lips. "Enslak is alive. He's—"
Serna staggered like he'd physically struck her.
I saw it happen—saw her warrior's mask crack, saw something raw and desperate flash across her face. Her hand trembled on the blade's grip.
"You're lying." She hissed, but her voice shook. "He died. I saw the reports. I—"
"Alive," Riuondo repeated, that horrible wet laugh bubbling up again. "All this time. Alive."
"Where?" Serna demanded, moving closer. "Where is he?"
Riuondo laughed again—a horrible, gurgling sound. "You'll never find him. Never know where he's being held. I can die causing you that pain."
He collapsed to his knees, then pitched forward onto his face.
Dead.
Serna stood over his body, chest heaving, covered in blood—his and hers.
The shuttle rocked again, and I heard the sound of weapons fire in the corridor. Shouting. The distinctive whine of Alliance plasma rifles.
The chamber doors exploded inward.
Alliance soldiers poured through, weapons raised, moving with military precision. They swept the room, neutralizing the remaining guards with brutal efficiency.
Charick, my hopefully future son-in-law, Captain of the Bardaga burst through the doorway, his face a mask of controlled fury. Behind him came Captain Adtovar of the Historia, a tall Vaktaire with silver hair and the bearing of a career military officer.
"Mother!" Charick rushed to Serna, catching her as she swayed. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine." She pushed him away gently, her eyes finding mine across the chamber. "Cullen. Get Cullen."
Adtovar was already moving toward me, a medical kit in hand. He worked the restraints with quick, efficient movements, and suddenly I was free.
I tried to stand. Couldn't. My legs wouldn't support my weight.
Charick caught me before I hit the floor. "I've got you. We've got you."
Serna was there too, her hands on my face, her eyes searching mine. "Stay with me," she said. "We're getting you out of here. Just stay with me."
I tried to answer, but the words wouldn't come. Everything was pain and exhaustion and the overwhelming relief of my mate being alive.
They lifted me between them—Charick and Adtovar—and started moving toward the door. Serna stayed at my side, her presence the only thing keeping me tethered to consciousness.
The corridor was chaos. Bodies on the floor—Riuondo's men, all dead. Alliance soldiers securing the shuttle, calling out clearances, coordinating the evacuation.
We moved through it all in a blur.
I was aware of being carried up a ramp. Of the change in air pressure as we crossed from the shuttle to a ship. Of voices calling out medical codes and coordinates.
The Historia. We were aboard the Historia.
"Garoot healer, now!" Adtovar was shouting. "Get him to the Garoot healer!"
More movement. Bright lights. The smell of antiseptic and ozone.
They laid me down on something soft. Medical equipment surrounded me—monitors, scanners, things I didn't recognize. Hands moved over me, assessing damage, starting treatments.
"Cullen." Serna's voice cut through the chaos. "Cullen, look at me."
I forced my eyes open. Found her face above mine.
She was still covered in blood. Still breathing hard. But she was alive. We were both alive.
"Stay with me," she said again, and her voice was fierce. Commanding. The voice of a leader who'd never learned to accept defeat. "Don't you dare leave me now. We survived. We made it. So you stay with me, do you hear? You stay with me."
I wanted to tell her I would. Wanted to promise her forever.
But the darkness was closing in, and I was so tired.
Though it was hazy and distant, I felt her panic. Felt her pouring everything she had into me—her strength, her will, her love.
Stay, she commanded through our connection. Stay with me.
I let myself drift, secure in the knowledge that when I woke, she would still be there.
My mate. My Prime. My Serna.
And we had survived.