Page 53 of Xara and the Xenobeast

“Take this,” he said, offering it to her hilt-first. “Last resort.”

She accepted it, the weight unfamiliar but reassuring in her hand. “I know how to use it if I have to.”

He nodded again, then returned to gathering supplies. “Need to move deeper. More defensible.”

“The pups are already in the back chamber,” she told him. “I’ll get our food and water.”

As she moved to gather their supplies, the cave suddenly echoed with a high-pitched, frantic chirping. The pups’ distress call.

Ash’s head snapped up, his tendrils flaring. Without a word, he bolted toward the sound, Xara right behind him.

They found the pups huddled together in the storage chamber, their patches flashing urgent red. Dot squealed when he saw them, pointing one tiny paw toward the far wall.

Xara frowned, not understanding until she saw the almost imperceptible seam in the rock—a hidden passage she’d never noticed before. And from beyond it came the faint sound of movement.

Ash pushed her behind him, weapons ready. “Take pups. Hide,” he hissed.

But it was too late. The wall panel slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a dark tunnel beyond—and the gleam of advanced armor as the first Zarkari soldier stepped through.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The device felt wrong in his hands. Too sleek, too pristine—a gleaming intrusion in his world of salvage and survival. The Xenobeast turned it over, examining the polished metal surface with growing dread. Recognition crawled up his spine like ice.

He knew this design. The subtle hexagonal pattern etched into the casing, the matte black sensor array, the distinctive blue-tinted power cells. This was Zarkari military tech—high command issue. Not standard military. Not even special forces.

This was a command beacon. His claws traced the barely visible insignia stamped into the underside, and something ancient and violent stirred in his chest.

Vask D’ravak.

The name burned through his mind like acid. Commander Vask D’ravak—the Zarkari who had presided over his tribunal, who had pronounced him defective, who had ordered his exile to this death world. The one who had stripped him of his designation and branded him a failed experiment.

The beacon wasn’t just a warning. It was a signature. A taunt.

He crushed it in his hand, metal crumpling under the force of his grip. Shards bit into his palm, drawing rivulets of dark blood that dripped to the cave floor. He barely felt it.

“What is it?” Xara asked, her voice pulling him back from the red haze of memory.

He turned to her, forcing his face to remain impassive despite the storm raging inside him. “Danger,” he said simply. “Hide. Deep cave.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t argue. She gathered the pups quickly, murmuring reassurances as they chirped anxiously, sensing his distress. She hesitated at the entrance to the deeper chambers, looking back at him.

“Be careful,” she said.

He nodded once, then turned away, already mentally cataloging weapons, escape routes, defensive positions. He couldn’t afford distraction. Couldn’t afford the weakness that came with wanting to touch her, to breathe in her scent one more time.

When she was gone, he moved with cold efficiency. First, he retrieved the cache of weapons he’d been maintaining since his exile—plasma blades, serrated hunting knives, projectile launchers cobbled together from salvaged tech. He strapped them to his body, the familiar weight both comforting and grim.

Why was Vask here? After all these years? The Xenobeast had been declared dead, erased from the records. A failed prototype. Unless...

Understanding hit him like a physical blow. Not him. Her.

Xara was human—a species rare in this sector. Valuable. And now she was on his world, in his territory. The Zarkari must have tracked her shuttle, followed its trajectory to this planet. They weren’t here for a rogue weapon they thought long dead. They were here for her.

The thought made his blood boil. He would not let them take her. Would not let Vask’s cold, calculating hands anywhere near her.

Moving swiftly, he exited the cave complex and scaled the nearest cliff face, claws digging into rock as he pulled himself up with inhuman strength. From this vantage point, he could see farther across the jungle. The beacon had been placed deliberately—a warning, a challenge. Vask was coming, but he wasn’t here yet.

Good. Time to prepare.

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