Page 34 of Savage Bond

That’s enough—for now.

I stop before the trail, looking up at the towering alien trees. Sometimes I swear they could be breathing, watching. We just escaped them… and now we're going back in.

“Stay close,” Kairon snaps without looking back.

I nod, pushing aside any thoughts of protest or bravado. It’s not worth it right now—not when there’s so much riding on this lead.

The jungle thickens around us like a living wall as we navigate deeper into its depths. Every rustle sends adrenaline spiking through me.

CHAPTER 21

KAIRON

The jungle closes in around us as I lead Ava away from the village, deeper into the tangled heart of this planet. The air thickens, suffocating, like a living thing pressing down on our shoulders. Sweat beads on my brow as the humidity wraps around me, clinging to my skin.

We step onto the path described by the elder—a dense, overgrown trail. Stone patterns emerge beneath our feet, geometric shapes worn smooth by time and nature’s relentless embrace. Vines drape from tree branches like serpents, twisting and curling around each other in an intricate dance. Moss carpets the ground, vibrant green and damp, muffling our steps but also making them treacherous.

Ava follows close behind me. I can hear her breathing—heavy, labored—each inhale a struggle against the oppressive heat that wraps around us like a shroud. Her movements grow slower with every step we take; I catch glimpses of her soaked uniform clinging to her body in ways that pull at something inside me—a mixture of irritation and something more primal.

The insects hum around us, a constant buzz that feels like static electricity in the air. They dart through the thick foliage, glinting like tiny jewels before disappearing into shadows. It’sunnerving how alive this place feels—like every leaf and vine is watching us as we press onward.

I glance back at her without meaning to. She pushes a stray hair from her face, sweat glistening on her brow. It irritates me how vulnerable she appears out here—how fragile humans can be in environments like this one.

“Keep up,” I murmur without thinking.

She doesn’t respond but nods slightly, determination flashing in her hazel eyes for a moment before exhaustion seeps back in. I want to tell her to keep pace or toughen up; she’s trained for this after all—but my throat tightens with unspoken words. We both know it’s not just physical strength that keeps us alive here.

As we venture deeper into the jungle's maw, the soil becomes stickier beneath our boots, sucking at our feet like quicksand with each step forward. I force myself to focus on the path ahead—the way those ancient stones peek through tangled roots—and ignore the concern creeping up my spine.

Each breath fills my lungs with humidity, every heartbeat resonates with purpose; we’re getting closer to whatever lies at the end of this trail.

I keep my eyes trained on the path, but it’s hard to ignore the way the humidity weighs down on Ava. Her breaths grow heavier, each one a reminder of how this climate gnaws at her strength. She stumbles slightly, and I catch a glimpse of her uniform—soaked, clinging to her body in ways that twist something inside me.

She keeps adjusting the torn fabric, tugging it away from her skin as if it’s suffocating her. Each pull raises the hem higher, exposing more of her lean figure glistening under the dampness of the jungle air. It takes everything in me not to look, but I fail repeatedly.

“...and if we can find this Precursor site,” she continues, oblivious to my internal struggle, “it might be our ticket out of here! Just imagine what we could discover?—”

I grunt in response, trying to mask my irritation.

“Right?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “If they really had technology that could manipulate time or even space—think of all the possibilities! We could reach?—”

“Focus on walking,” I command, my voice sharper than I intended, the words slicing through the thick, humid air like a blade.

Ava shoots me a glare, one that would typically send anyone else scuttling back into the shadows. But not her. Instead, she huffs in irritation and quickens her pace, her movements almost defiantly energetic, as if my tone only spurred her on.

“Look, Kairon,” she presses on, her breath coming in heavy bursts, “we need to think about our options. If this artifact really exists and we can activate it?—”

“Stop yapping,” I grumble, the irritation spilling from my lips like a bitter taste. The weight of her enthusiasm grates against my nerves, but I can’t shake the flicker of intrigue in her words.

Her brows knit together in frustration, creating a deep furrow on her forehead as she stumbles again, this time on a vine jutting out from the ground like a trap. I fight against an instinctive urge to reach out, to steady her and keep her from falling, a protective instinct that feels foreign and unwelcome. I can’t afford to show weakness or concern—not now, not here.

“It’s not yapping if I’m trying to save our lives!” she retorts sharply, shaking off whatever hesitation had previously held her back. Her voice rises above the din of the jungle, fierce and unwavering, and I can’t help but notice the fire in her hazel eyes, even as sweat trickles down her temples.

In the thick, damp air, her determination radiates like a beacon, cutting through the oppressive heat. She stands there,resolute, with a spirit that seems unbreakable, and I find myself both irritated and inexplicably drawn to her. She’s relentless in her pursuit for answers, and I can’t decide if it’s admirable or infuriating.

The fire in her voice draws me in despite myself. I catch another look at her face—determined yet tired—and something stirs deep within me. She pushes forward, oblivious to the sweat glistening on her skin and how the jungle amplifies every feature—the way she grips her side like it hurts.

“Just listen for once,” she insists.

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