Page 73 of Honor Bound

Roan tightened his grip on the staff, his pulse pounding in his ears. “Or… I could just break your hand.”

He moved faster than Coleridge expected, the staff coming down with brutal precision. The crack of bone echoed through the room as the device tumbled from Coleridge’s grasp. Roan kicked it across the floor, sending it skidding into a far corner.

Coleridge cradled his broken hand, his face twisted with pain and rage. “You’ll regret this, Roan. The Legion will never stop hunting you.”

“Let them try,” Roan said coldly. “But you won’t live to see it.”

He raised the staff, but before he could strike the final blow, alarms blared throughout the space lab. Red emergency lights flooded the room, bathing everything in a sinister glow.

Containment breach detected. Security forces en route.

Coleridge slammed into Roan, his good hand wrapping around Roan’s hand holding the staff while he drove the heel of his broken hand into the wound in Roan’s shoulder. Roan gritted his teeth as his father applied pressure on both his wrist and his wound and leaned forward until they were face-to-face.

“Did you really think you could fight fate, son?” his father demanded in a low, taunting voice. “You werebornto be Legion. No matter how much you play the hero, you’ll never be anything else.”

Roan hissed, tightening his grip on the Gallant Staff. “I’d ratherdiethan be like you.”

Coleridge chuckled. “Oh, Roan. But youarelike me. You’re ruthless. You strike to kill. You’re a killer—just as I raised you to be.”

Rage poured through Roan and he twisted, knocking his father off balance. He raised the staff, firing a bolt of energy into his father’s chest when his father swung around with the laser pistol in his hand.

Coleridge stumbled back, dropping the pistol in his hand and looking down at the scorch mark that blossomed through his uniform. He slowly raised his head, his eyes narrowing with a strange light as he swayed.

“You see?You don’t hesitate.I bet you didn’t hesitate when you killed my men. That’s the difference between you and the others—you were made for this.”

Roan stepped forward as his father’s leg gave out under him and he slid down the metal support to the floor. He walked over to the containment unit and twisted the vial he had placed in the injector, breaking the seal.

“If you were weak. Andri war-warned me,” Coleridge choked out, “I should have killed you a long time ago.”

Roan’s jaw tightened. He looked down at his father, beaten but still dangerous, then at the containment unit behind him.

Time was running out.

The dark blue liquid oozed through the system like veins of poison. The iROS neutralizing agent spread quickly, the parasites’ faint bioluminescent glow fading and dying, snuffed out one by one.

Roan’s breathing was slow and steady. He spared a glance at his father. Coleridge slumped against the support pillar, his face pale, lips trembling with a cruel, twisted smile despite the pain.

“Still too late,” Coleridge rasped, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. “You can’t stop what’s coming. Even in death I will win.”

Roan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t take the bait. He turned on his heel, his pulse drumming in his ears. His focus sharpened as the clatter of boots came down the corridor. The weapons room doors hissed open, and a squad of Legion soldiers stormed inside.

Roan twisted to the side, letting them flow past him, unheeding in their haste. He stepped out of the room, pausing just long enough for the doors to hiss shut behind him. With a movement of his arm, he brought the end of the staff against the control panel. Energy crackled, surging through the circuits and locking the soldiers inside.

“Enjoy the view,” he muttered, satisfaction cutting through the rising dread.

His legs were already moving, driving him toward the conduit access at the far end of the corridor. His steps grew faster, urgency coursing through him like a second pulse. The conduit was meters away.

He reached the access grate, slicing through the lock with a swift arc of the Gallant staff. The grate crashed to the floor, and Roan slipped inside. The narrow passage pressed close, the air heavy with smoke and ozone from distant explosions. The staff flickered, casting fleeting light across the confined space.

“Julia, Josh, Sergi, come in!” His voice echoed, tight and sharp. “Respond!”

Only silence answered him. His chest tightened, a painful knot forming in his sternum. He pressed his commlink, switching to Bantu’s frequency.

“Bantu, where are they?”

Static crackled before Bantu’s voice broke through, urgent and grim. “I’ve got a fix. They’re in the lift, heading for the top level. I’ve been trying to reach them, but there’s no response.”

Roan’s pulse spiked. “There’s no conduit access on the top level. How do they reach the shuttle?”

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