Page 42 of Honor Bound

Coleridge Landais stood at the viewport of his own ship, athin cloth pressed to his cheekbone, absorbing the slow trickle of blood from where the Ancient male had struck him.

He watched as his brother’s shuttle disappeared into the belly of his battle cruiser. His lip curled into a sneer. Andri’s arrival held three purposes: A warning that he didn’t tolerate failure. A public humiliation for not only his perceived weakness in dealing with the Gallant rebels but also with his son. A reminder of what happens to those who displease Andri—even on the smallest level.

Coleridge turned, folding his hands behind him, and waited with growing unease. Several minutes later, the doors to the command deck slid open with a hiss, and the room shifted as if the very air thickened with his brother’s malice.

Andri did not march when he entered. He did not need to. Power radiated from every measured step, a predator entering the den of a wounded beast. His long, dark cloak whispered across the floor, his sharp eyes assessing everything with disdainful precision.

Through the doorway, Coleridge could see his own crew. They were silent; their bodies rigid. They knew the price they themselves could pay for their commander’s failure.

Coleridge kept his spine straight despite the pain radiating through his ribs. He refused to show weakness, knowing that it would only fuel his brother’s silent rage. He kept his eyes glued to Andri’s face as his brother dismissed his personal guards before approaching him.

Andri stopped in front of him, his gaze flicking over Coleridge’s injured face, the blood smeared on his fingers.

“Disgraceful. Tell me, brother—did the Ancient cut you? Or was it the woman who brought you to your knees and handed you the taste of defeat?”

Coleridge could feel the muscle in his jaw tighten. He vaguely wondered if Andri knew what the woman had done—how she had literally dropped him to his knees with her powerful kick before he realized his brother was speaking figuratively. There was no way his brother could know of his humiliation at the hands of Julia Marksdale.

“It was an Ancient. One of the strangers to our world. He disguised himself as a Legion guard. He was… stronger than expected.”

Andri let the silence stretch, his eyes never leaving Coleridge’s. He did not blink. He did not move. Andri let the weight of his expectations crush the room around them.

Coleridge hated that about him.

“Tell me everything?” Andri ordered in a calm voice.

There was no fury in his brother’s tone, no shouting. Just the cold, cutting sharpness of a man who expected perfection and found only disappointment.

Coleridge forced himself to keep his voice even. “The Ancient Knight infiltrated the ship. The battle against Plateau was… more resistant than anticipated. Hutu arrived, alongside rebel forces. The freighter captain and the Ancient escaped, along with the female that Roanna had been protecting.”

The words tasted like bile as he spoke each one.

“A minor setback,” he continued stiffly. “I have the situation under control.”

Andri’s hand moved before he could register it.

Coleridge gritted his teeth in pain but did not flinch. He remained impassive, silent, as if his brother had not just sliced a deep cut across his already scarred cheek. The weapon’s heated edge cauterized most of the tissue as it passed along his flesh.

Andri’s voice was as effective as steel pressed against his throat. “That, dear brother, is a sample of what awaits you if you fail me again.”

Coleridge forced himself to meet his brother’s cold eyes. Andri was not like their father. He didn’t punish out of anger. His actions were calculated, methodical, and most terrifying of all—completely absent of emotion.

Andri withdrew the blade, flicking off the residue of seared flesh.

“Prepare the weapon,” he ordered.

Coleridge hesitated. “It hasn’t been tested.”

Andri’s eyes darkened. “Then now is a good time.”

Coleridge clenched his fists at his sides. “Deploying it prematurely could result in another failure. My ship doesn’t have the necessary equipment.”

“I don’t care,” Andri interrupted, his voice as cold as the space outside the ship. “Do whatever you need to make it work. I’ve received intel about a rebel base located on a moon orbiting Tesla Terra. Have the spacelab deployed to it. I want those who resist serving as an example. Once the moon base has been destroyed, do the same thing to the planet.”

Coleridge knew that tone. The discussion was over. He bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Andri slid his blade back into its sheath and stepped back, his gaze sweeping over Coleridge like a man assessing the value of a dying animal.

With one last look of pure disgust, Andri turned on his heel and strode from the room. The doors hissed shut behind him.

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