Page 47 of Savage Bond

Her whisper cuts through the noise like a knife. I try to reach for her, to pull her back into my arms where she belongs. But they drag her away, and I can’t even move.

Fury burns within me, hot and consuming as they carry her off into the chaos of the jungle beyond. They can have my life—they can take everything—but not Ava. Not her.

My body screams for movement as darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision, but all I feel is helpless rage.

I wakeup on my ship, the low hum of machinery and distant laughter flooding my senses. Blood stains my hands, still warm and sticky, a reminder of everything I’ve lost. The jungle flickers past the viewport—deep green and endless. I’m high above the ruins now, orbiting a world that no longer feels like home.

My crew surrounds me, celebrating like fools. They’re drunk on their victory—the promise of wealth and power thrumming in their veins. Their voices rise, a cacophony of cheers and jeers that pierce through my foggy thoughts. At the center stands Renn Dravik, grinning wide as if he’s won the galaxy.

“You did it, brother,” he shouts, hand resting on the sealed container that holds the artifact. “You brought us glory.”

I stand slowly, each movement a reminder of how broken I am. My body aches; every muscle screams from the fight—yet it pales against the dull roar in my chest.

I don’t care about the artifact.

I don’t care about glory or power or credits.

Ava is gone.

Her name echoes in my mind like a prayer left unanswered. None of this matters without her. I glare at the container—the source of their delight—and turn to face my crew, my voice low and dangerous.

“I want access.”

Renn blinks at me, confusion creasing his brow. “To what?”

“The device.” My words carry a weight that halts their revelry; they shift uncomfortably under my gaze. “Now.”

I need access.

The words hang in the air, thick with urgency and desperation. Nyra’s brow furrows, confusion etching deeper lines across her face. “Why do you need it?”

I bark out a response, my patience wearing thin. “I don’t need a reason.”

They all look at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Seriously? You don’t even know what that thing does!”

I snap my attention to Renn and grit out, "I need to get her back."

He scoffs, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re risking everything for that human officer you protected during the fight? If you want to get laid we can pick up a nice piece of ass somewhere easier.”

Laughter erupts from the crew, filling the cramped space of the ship with mocking echoes. Each chuckle stabs at my resolve, inflaming a rage I barely keep contained.

I surge forward, grabbing Renn by the neck and hoisting him out of his seat like he weighs nothing.

“She is my Jalshagar.” My voice drops to a growl, low and primal, each word tearing from me with a force that rattles my bones. “She’s my mate. And I will burn every system that stands between us.”

Silence blankets the room.

The laughter dies abruptly.

Half the crew falters—uneasy glances exchanged among them as they shrink back from the tension sparking in the air. Some slink away into shadows, whispering about old codes and ancient madness in my eyes.

But a few remain. The ones who remember what I was before exile, before shame twisted my identity into something unrecognizable.

I turn to them, scanning their faces for understanding or support.

“Help me,” I say, voice steadying into something resolute. “Or get off this ship.”

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