Page 54 of Xara and the Xenobeast

The Xenobeast descended and began a methodical circuit of the perimeter. He knew every inch of this territory—every cave entrance, every natural chokepoint, every deadly plant and predator. This had been his prison, but he had made it his domain.

First, he checked the northern approach—the most likely landing zone for a drop ship. He activated ancient traps buried beneath the forest floor, rigging them with new triggers. Pressure plates that would unleash clouds of toxic spores. Tripwires connected to spring-loaded spikes harvested from the jungle’s deadliest predators.

At the eastern ravine, he loosened key support stones in the natural bridge. One well-placed shot would send the entire structure crashing down, taking any pursuers with it.

To the west, he cleared firing lines through the dense foliage, creating invisible kill zones where he could pick off intruders one by one.

All the while, he kept his distance from the cave. From her. He couldn’t risk leading them back to her. Couldn’t risk the distraction of her scent, her touch, the way she made him feel like more than the weapon they had created.

As darkness fell, he retrieved a buried cache of equipment—tech he had salvaged from his own drop pod years ago. Most of it was damaged beyond repair, but a few pieces still functioned. He found what he was looking for: a neural disruptor. It wouldn’t kill a Zarkari soldier, but it would temporarily scramble their implants, rendering them vulnerable.

He worked through the night, his enhanced vision allowing him to see as clearly as in daylight. By dawn, he had transformed the jungle into a killing field. Every approach to the cave system was trapped, every path rigged to funnel intruders exactly where he wanted them.

Still, a cold certainty settled in his gut. It wouldn’t be enough. Not against Vask’s elite forces. Not against the man who had helped create him, who knew his weaknesses, his design limitations.

The thought burned like poison. He had been built to serve, to kill on command. When he had refused to execute innocents, they had deemed him defective. A failure. They had thrown him away like a broken tool, expecting him to die on this hostile world.

Instead, he had survived. Adapted. Found something worth protecting.

Now Vask had returned to take that away too.

As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, the Xenobeast caught movement at the edge of his vision—a flash of metal in the trees. He froze, every sense alert. There, half-hidden in the shadows: a scout drone, its optical sensors sweeping the forest floor.

He remained perfectly still, letting the drone pass overhead. They were searching, not attacking. Not yet. They didn’t know exactly where to find her.

But they would. Soon.

He followed the drone at a distance, tracking its search pattern. It was methodical, thorough—typical Zarkari efficiency. When it paused to scan a clearing, he struck. One leap carried him onto its housing, claws digging into the metal shell. He ripped out its transmitter before it could send an alert, then crushed its processor core.

One down. There would be more.

He returned to the cave as the sun climbed higher, slipping inside through a hidden entrance. He needed to check the interior defenses, to make sure Xara and the pups were secure.

He found her in the main chamber, the pups clustered around her feet as she sorted through supplies. She looked up when he entered, relief washing over her face.

“You’re back,” she said, moving toward him.

He held up a hand, stopping her. “Stay back.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes, quickly replaced by understanding. “You don’t want to lead them to us.”

He nodded, impressed by her perception. “Scout drones. Searching.”

“For me?” she asked, her voice steady despite the fear he could smell on her.

“Yes.”

“Why? I’m nobody important.”

“Human. Rare. Valuable.” He hesitated, then added, “Mine.”

Her eyes softened at that last word, and he felt a dangerous warmth spread through his chest. He couldn’t afford that now. Couldn’t afford the distraction of wanting to touch her, to hold her, to lose himself in her warmth.

“Who are they?” she asked.

“Zarkari. High Command.” He struggled to find the words, to explain. “My... creators.”

Understanding dawned in her eyes. “The ones who exiled you.”

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