Page 34 of Broken Triad

I ignore the soldiers knuckling their brands. The hangar bay is empty and grey, color leached from the world until she stands in front of me.

I lick my lips. I crave to teach that defiant woman a lesson, to teach her what she needs and wants. Reavers are in short supply, but as an honored triad, we are one of the few on this planet to have exclusive use of our ship. It was a great risk to leave our patrol to kidnap her. If anyone had spotted our ship landing…if anyone had tracked our movements…

It was worth it. Now she’s there, in the cave, waiting for us. She is the only thing that’s brought color into my world. I do not understand it. I cannot understand it. The Priests said we had a great destiny. Perhaps they were wrong that it was in the heart of battle. They told us we could wash away our sins of not protecting our Mate by burning up in a glorious death, sacrificing our lives to deal a blow that would shake the Aurelian Empire to the core…

Lola makes me crave a different destiny. I do not know how it is possible, but she smells right, so right. Every curve of her body is perfection. Her big, doe eyes, the pouty innocence, the fierceness of her spirit even as her body betrays her insistent lust, drives me mad with need.

Barracks have been set up, apartment buildings converted to troop housing. More troops funnel in each day, small groups of Aurelians sent as advance scouts to land after our successful shift. Soon, this planet will be filled by soldiers as we prepare for the first strike into Aurelian Empire-owned territories. A wave of anticipation fills me as I imagine going up against my equals. I’ve killed so many Scorp, so many Toads and Bullfrog warriors, but the only battles where I truly became what I was always meant to be was against Rogue Aurelians, our blades slamming against each other’s, Orb-Lightning sparking as we danced in death.

Soon. Soon, we will have a war worth fighting.

We walk out of the hangar and into the streets. These ones are cleared, but as we make our way to the south of the city, the streets are filled with carts and vendors. Ra’al has set up fourth shifts in the factories and fields, and on their time off, humans can do what they wish. Say one thing about humans, they are more resilient and resourceful than expected. Many Aurelians, when finished their work, would rest and wait, but these creatures are building, earning, fighting to survive.

I can’t imagine the humiliation of having to be saved, to have your own planet that you cannot defend against mindless Scorp, and yet these hopeful faces look at us with awe. Ra’al gave them a rousing speech, saying that those who stayed could earn a future through work, and perhaps that is all they needed—to have the chance to move up in life, without the three rich families who leeched from their efforts and left them to die.

We’re the only Aurelians in the makeshift marketplace, and we stand out. I cock my head to a black-haired man with shrewd eyes, and he follows me into an alleyway.

I hand him a bag of credits and a list of goods, with an address to drop them off. It’s more money than he’s ever seen in his life, but he wouldn’t dare to cheat us. We can’t be seen buying these things, not with a woman kidnapped and suspicion on us.

“You’re certain the Reaver will not be tracked?”I query Khra as we walk back to our barracks, waiting for the last light of day to die.

“If we keep making these trips, it will get suspicious, but I can send fake coordinates to HQ. If we get questioned, we’ll say we couldn’t rest, and wanted to make a second patrol.”

I nod. It tracks. I’ve been restless all my life, and my triad has a history of going out and looking for fights we shouldn’t take. We’d been disciplined and knocked down ranks in the Aurelian army for diving into a Scorp’s nest without backup twice before.

With the hired man working for us in the market, we return to the army buildings.

We have a home on the top floor of the barracks, with a patio that looks out on the city, but it’s made for humans, and everything feels small and cramped. I keep looking out towards the heavy forest, knowing she is there, waiting for me.

I’m surprised, but Khra changes. We wear our togas into combat, showing off the honor of our brand, and when we took Lola, we were clad in the full robes of the Priests. Since deserting and joining the ranks of Obsidian, we’ve worn nothing else, but we never threw out our other clothes, either. He changes into black joggers, comfortable pants that allow freedom of movement, and a long-sleeve shirt that hugs his lean physique. I cock my head at him.

“We look like savages to her,” he says, as a way of explaining.

“We are,” I reply back, but I take his lead, changing into similar casual clothes, the kind that we wore when we were off duty. I haven’t felt like I’ve been off duty since we served in the Aurelian Empire. Bolden shrugs and does the same.

Then I step onto the patio and chew on a calorie bar, waiting.

Finally, I see the black-haired man with a burlap sack pause at the end of the street and look up towards the patio on the top floor.

“Let’s go,” I say, and Bolden nearly smiles. We sneak out of the barracks like soldiers in Academy breaking into an ancient Aurelian’s harem, as the cold moon watches over us.

13

LOLA

There’s nothing to do in the cave but wait. I wish I could have spent the long hours making it feel like mine, adding some touch of myself on the bare rock walls, but there’s no way for me to put an imprint here.

There’s nothing but the huge tent and sterile environment, the fire circle with wood but no way to light it, the cold, hard ground.

Maybe it’s for the best. Anything I could do to decorate—adding flowers, setting up a little nook for myself to sleep in the tent—would only make the triad think I was choosing to be here.

I bite the inside of my cheek, nervously. I had a way out. All I had to do was let Summer go to Ra’al and give my coordinates, and I’d be free and clear by tomorrow…

As night falls, it grows dark and chilly. I wait as long as I can before I can’t take it anymore and go into the tent, zipping it closed behind me. I don’t like it in here, with the three sleeping bags and the sterile kitchen. I feel like an intruder. I don’t belong. It would be nice to curl up in one of those sleeping bags and try to sleep, but when the three men come back, they’d take it as an invitation to slide into bed with me. I imagine being trapped in the sleeping bag, pressed up against one of their huge, powerful bodies, forced to be pressed up against their hardening…

I shiver, and it’s not from the cold. It’s strange to think that I’m invading the privacy of their tent, when it’s them that captured me. When the triad holds all the power.

What are they going to do with me when they return?

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