Page 65 of Xara and the Xenobeast

They were facing terrible danger—enemies with advanced weapons and no moral compass. But they weren’t facing it alone. They had each other. They had the pups. And now, they had allies.

For the first time since discovering the beacon, Xara felt something like hope.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The Xenobeast crouched motionless on the cliff edge, his body melding with the crimson stone. Below, the wreckage of Xara’s shuttle lay exposed in a small clearing, its twisted metal gleaming dully in the alien sunlight.

For three cycles he’d patrolled the perimeter, setting traps, planting the Tal’shai’s living sensors, preparing for war. Now the waiting was over.

A sleek Zarkari drop-ship cut through the atmosphere, its engines barely audible—a testament to Dominion engineering. The vessel bore Vask’s personal insignia: a black geometric pattern that resembled a shattered star. The Xenobeast’s tendrils tightened against his skull, his body tensing with primal hatred.

Commander Vask Dravak. The man who’d ordered his creation, then his exile.

The ship settled beside the shuttle wreckage with practiced precision. Hydraulics hissed as the loading ramp extended, touching the blood-red soil with a soft thud. Six figures emerged—Suppressor Elite, their armor a deep obsidian that absorbed light rather than reflected it. They moved with lethal efficiency, spreading out to secure the perimeter.

The Xenobeast narrowed his eyes. Something was wrong. Their formation wasn’t standard for hunting a rogue asset. They weren’t looking for signs of him at all.

They were examining the shuttle. Scanning for traces.

Traces of Xara.

Cold realization washed through him. They hadn’t come for the weapon they’d discarded. They’d come for her.

A seventh figure emerged from the ship—taller than the others, moving with the casual arrogance of command. Commander Vask Dravak. Even at this distance, the Xenobeast recognized the straight-backed posture, the deliberate movements. Vask’s voice carried faintly on the wind as he barked orders at his team.

“Secure biological samples. Priority one is tracking the female.”

The Xenobeast’s claws dug into the stone beneath him, carving deep furrows. His vision narrowed, pulsing red at the edges. The beast inside him—the thing they’d engineered to kill without question—roared to be unleashed.

But the cold, calculating part of him—the part he’d developed in defiance of his programming—held it in check. Rage was a weapon only when controlled.

He watched as one of the Suppressors retrieved something from the shuttle—a scrap of fabric. Xara’s. They were tracking her scent.

A growl built in his chest. They would never reach her. Never touch her. Never take her from him.

He slipped backward from the cliff edge, moving with a silence that belied his size. The jungle welcomed him, crimson foliage parting as he passed. The living sensors the Tal’shai had given them were already changing color, alerting him to the intruders’ movements.

The Xenobeast circled wide, positioning himself between the Zarkari squad and the path to their cave. Xara was there with the pups, protected by the traps they’d laid together, but he would not let the fight reach their home.

He activated the first trap—a simple tripwire connected to a net of poisoned vines. Childish by Dominion standards, but effective when combined with the element of surprise.

Two Suppressors triggered it. The net dropped, enveloping them in toxic barbs. Their armor protected them from the worst, but the paralytic agent worked through the joints of their suits. They went down, not dead but immobilized.

Four remaining, plus Vask.

The Xenobeast melted deeper into the jungle. The remaining Suppressors moved more cautiously now, scanning for additional traps. They were good—the best the Dominion had to offer. But this was his jungle. His world.

And they threatened what was his.

He activated the second trap—a series of sonic emitters salvaged from the ruins near their cave. The devices produced a frequency that attracted Haxin swarms—tiny flying predators with razor-sharp mandibles that could strip flesh from bone in minutes.

The dark cloud descended on the Zarkari squad, forcing them to activate their energy shields. The shields would hold, but the power drain would weaken their weapons systems.

Three of the Suppressors broke formation, moving deeper into the jungle—straight toward the killing ground he’d prepared. The fourth stayed with Vask, a personal guard.

Perfect.

The Xenobeast followed the three who’d separated, silent as death. They were moving in a standard sweep pattern, but their unfamiliarity with the terrain made them vulnerable. He let them proceed just far enough to be out of visual contact with Vask.

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