Page 67 of Ashes of Honor

Her body responded in perfect rhythm with mine, her movements matching my intensity, and I knew I was a goner. “I love you,” she gasped, her voice full of everything I ever wanted to hear.

“I love you too,” I managed, the words breaking free as I lost myself in her completely.

The bathing roomwas quiet save for the soft crackle of fire we’d ignited before getting in. Its glow danced along the stone walls and cast shadows that stretched across the wall. Maybe it was Jax’s ghost or my own damn haunting thoughts, but this room always seemed to carry a chill despite the warmth throughout these quarters.

Yasmin nestled against my chest. Her breaths were even as she slept, completely at ease, fingers intertwined with mine. I tilted my head, studying her. The peace on her face right now was rare, hard-earned, and I’d fight to keep it for her.

So many lives depended on me now. Not just hers. Not just Amaia and my family. And somehow, it no longer felt impossible. This was the family I’d dreamed of having since I was a kid. Something real. Something to fight for—not just survive.

“I will not fail,” I whispered, letting the words settle in the air with promise.

Alexiares

San Jose, you son of a bitch. I’m coming for you. And for the price of stressing my general the fuck out, I promise not to be gentle.

Suckerpunch lurked at my side as we made our way through the abandoned streets of Los Gatos. It’d been a long fucking day. We’d pushed it on the whole daylight thing, but we needed to find a place to rest. My boy had done great. The two of us, out on the road alone, on a mission for our woman. I laughed to myself; Amaia does always say history repeats itself. At least this time, I was certain that I was irrevocably and unconditionally in lovewith her, and what we were doing was for a good cause. It was nice to be able to say that with confidence.

Sixty-two miles and a fifteen hour push with minimal stops for hydration, I wish I could make Suckerpunch a damn steak. And here I was thinking he’d turned into a lazy mush living a cushy life in Monterey. This was the first time he had a home to live in. Finley had refused to let him inside the house. Now he was clutching the ridiculous red squid Reina had made, refusing to leave it behind.

We passed by a faded sign:The Billy Jones Wildcat Railroad. I raised my hand, palm flat, then pointed two fingers at my eyes before sweeping them out toward him. It was a silent command we hadn’t used in far too long, sharp and precise:watch me. His massive frame went taut with controlled energy. His ears pitched forward, amber eyes scanning the world around us as I walked up to the ticket booth. In my experience, no one ever thought to hide out in them. In fact, places like this sat pretty much untouched since the fall of the world. But, just in case someone else had the same idea of a hideout, they provided an opportunity for a quick escape. Usually two windows and a door. At the front of all parks, it allowed you to hear and see before they hear or see you.

I kept my steps silent as I approached and my knife clutched tight in my hand. There used to be a peace in doing this shit alone. There was still a peace in a sense, from being away from responsibilities andalways, always,some group of people. So less than twenty-four hours away from Amaia, going on this mission alone was … boring. Simply put, I’d rather be doingthiswithher.

No rush of adrenaline came with that first cautious peek inside a place before clearing the ticket booth. Settling in at night wasn’t the same without the soft curls tickling my chin or the sound of her breathing beside me. The absence of a racingheart at night while I pretended that closing my eyes was the same thing as sleep in case someone or something crept up in the darkness was monotonous. And walking the rest of the way to San Jose fending off small herds and stray Pansies gave me no real thrill. None of it mattered when the distance between us meant my eyes weren’t on her for the first time in eleven months. I had no way to make sure she was safe.

This mission would be over soon enough. I’d get back to her. And when we finally put all of this behind us, I couldn’t wait to make her mine—for good. For infinity.

Vegetation reclaimedthe two miles leading up to the gate of San Jose. Since I had the best luck in the world, I ran into about fifteen escorts of Coverts army, laughing. Having the grandest of times. I grumbled a curse as I weaved behind abandoned cars on the sides of the street in the remnants of an old suburb. They were crowding around something that moved in front of them. By the giant pile of shit sitting at my feet, a horse led their caravan. The crowd of them broke revealing a group of women hunched over in the back of a cage. It was about six by six. Not large enough for the amount of people inside, as if people ever belonged in them.

I scratched the side of my head, wondering when the fuck I started caring about shit like that. This wasn’t my business. It was important to focus on the mission—but Amaia and the others had this whole empathy thing going on that was rubbing off.

Un-fucking-fortunately, this two-mile stretch was theonlyway into San Jose coming from the south. An intentionalstrategy Amaia had helped them develop that was now working against our interests. Now I was stuck behind them. Forced to move at their pace and not mine. They were in no rush to get back, not with these women in tow. My mind called on a memory from outside Montello a few months back.

Covert was going to auction them.

That’s what we’d seen. Watched as they were brought as a reward for soldiers who performed well. There wasn’t anything Amaia could do about it then, but damn had she wanted to.

With as many soldiers as there were, masking the sound of my steps wasn’t exactly top priority. Their attention was fixed on the girls—smirking, laughing, some leaning closer to the cages in order to get their hands on what they wanted through the iron bars. Getting closer didn’t scream out ‘risk’, not unless one of them turned around.

I crept nearer, straining to catch bits of their conversation. Anything useful. A hint of security changes, new patrol patterns—something Monterey hadn’t picked up on yet. But the closer I got, the more the reality of the situation sunk in.

The ‘women’ in the cages weren’t women at all.

The oldest might have been eighteen. And the youngest … My stomach twisted, bile rising at the back of my throat.

Sick bastards. Every single one of them.

“Malachai’s confident this batch’ll be better than the last. Said they put them in some suite before transport. I bet that made y’all feel real special, huh?” one of the soldiers said with a cruel chuckle. “Dysentery. Thought that was some shit of the past. Wasted effort.”

“Seem to be prime breeding age too,” another chimed in, reaching through the bars to pinch one of the girls. She yelped and jerked away, her sobs growing louder, her shoulders shaking as snot dripped down her face.

“Gross,” another muttered, his nose wrinkling in disgust, though it didn’t stop him from watching.

My jaw tightened, but I didn’t move. Not yet. My fists itched to do something—anything—but I couldn’t risk blowing this before I had a chance to get inside. The fate of Salem Territory depended on it.

The oldest girl stepped forward, putting herself between the others and the soldiers. Something shifted in the hot, still, summer air. The wind picked up, tugging at the edges of the soldiers’ uniforms.

She wasn’t subtle about her focus. The one closest to her grabbed at his throat. His face turned red as he gasped, his lungs seemingly on the verge of collapse.

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