Page 58 of Naga General's Mate

A guard lunged for her. Brivul’s tail whipped out, hitting the man in the chest. The guard stumbled back with a grunt.

They rounded a corner into a bustling lobby. Mila ducked and weaved through the crowd, pulling Brivul along. His larger frame made it harder for him to slip through the gaps, but he managed to keep up.

“Stop them!” Vex’s voice carried over the crowd.

Mila’s lungs burned as they sprinted down another corridor. The weight of their supplies bounced against her hip with each step, but she refused to drop them. They’d need these supplies later.

Two more guards appeared ahead. Brivul pushed her behind him and engaged them, his movements fluid and precise. The guards’ weapons clattered to the floor.

“Nice work,” Mila panted as they ran past the groaning guards.

“Had lots of practice.” Brivul checked over his shoulder. “More coming.”

They ducked into a storage room, pressing themselves against the wall. Mila’s heart raced as boots pounded past their hiding spot. The familiar fear of being caught twisted in her gut, but she pushed it down. She wasn’t that helpless slave anymore.

Mila pressed her ear against the storage room door, counting footsteps as they faded. Her heart still raced from their sprint through the station. The metal shelving behind her dug into her back, but she didn’t dare move.

“The cargo train’s not an option anymore,” she whispered.

“Agreed. Too many guards.” Brivul’s tail twitched. “We need another way out.”

Through the small window, Mila spotted the station’s main entrance. “The front exit. If we blend with the crowd—”

“Ready when you are.”

They slipped out, keeping their heads down. Mila’s fingers intertwined with Brivul’s as they merged into the flow of travelers. The station’s vaulted ceiling stretched above them, morning light streaming through stained glass windows.

Every black uniform made her pulse spike. She forced herself to walk normally, though her instincts screamed at her to run. The exit beckoned, just fifty feet ahead. Thirty. Twenty.

Fresh air hit her face as they stepped outside. For one glorious moment, relief flooded through her.

Then she saw them.

Guards formed a semicircle around the entrance, their weapons drawn. More appeared from behind pillars and vehicles, closing the trap. Their black uniforms seemed to absorb the afternoon light.

“Well, this is unfortunate.” Brivul’s tail curled protectively around her.

Mila’s mind raced as she counted their opponents. At least twenty guards, all armed. No escape route in sight. Her stomach churned at the thought of being dragged back to Kurg.

“Drop any weapons and surrender the slave,” one guard called out.

“I have a name,” Mila snapped back.

“Last warning.”

The circle tightened. Mila’s back pressed against Brivul’s chest as the guards closed in. So close to freedom, only to fail now.

The crowd of guards suddenly parted, and Mila’s blood ran cold as Kurg stepped forward. His greasy skin gleamed in the afternoon light, that familiar smirk twisting his features.

“My wayward little slave. Did you really think you could escape me?”

Mila pressed closer to Brivul, her fingers curling into fists. “I’m not yours anymore.”

“Touch her and die.” Brivul’s tail lashed, his muscles coiling for attack.

Kurg’s laugh echoed across the courtyard. “Such spirit. But perhaps this will change your mind.” He gestured to his guards. “Bring her out.”

Two guards dragged forward a limp figure. Mila’s heart stopped. Priscilla’s face was barely recognizable through the bruises, her dress torn and stained with blood.

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