Page 36 of Ronan

My hands clench and release at my sides, refusing to glance at the other officer, who’s getting far too much enjoyment from this interaction. Fucking bootlicker, looking to elevate himself off my admonishment. “I didn’t realize my patrol rotations caused such concern, sir.”

“Oh, they didn’t… until now. Tell me, Ronan, were you aware all the vehicles on base have trackers?”

“No, sir, I did not realize that,” I grit through my teeth as he gets a wicked grin on his face.

“It was my idea, actually. After a few cars were stolen by the rebels, I thought it would be wise to track them. Worked well, too. It allowed us to locate severaltroublesome camps that we were able to extinguish. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Fantastic.” He’s not even paying attention to my answer as he continues his monologue.

“Tiny things, and they stick right inside the fuel tank door. Fascinating technology, really—pops on like a magnet and only needs to be charged every few weeks. Of course, almost no one realizes they’re there, because you’re never the person refueling the vehicles, are you?”

“No, sir.” Adrenaline surges a wild path through my veins and arteries, my vision pulsing in time with my heartbeat like a countdown to action. Commander Bravis flashes me a giant smile as his gaze drops to my neck, where I’m sure he can sense the thundering staccato.

“This is the second time you’ve stopped at this location, Ronan. The first was the night of the escape, and now you’re here again. So, tell me…” He inches closer until we’re almost nose to nose. “What am I going to discover inside that house?”

His eyes drop to my throat as I swallow, and I curse myself for the display of nerves. He only has to step inside to find the bags that would incriminate me in an instant. I can only hope Cameron has put some distance between himself and my mess. He’s smart—he’ll be gone by now, and that knowledge gives me an ounce of comfort as I seal my fate. “Supplies, sir. Food, blankets. A few weapons.”

Thrilled at catching me in the lie, his eyes flare as his chin tilts up, lip lifting in a bulldog’s taunting smile. “And who, pray tell, do those supplies belong to?”

“Me… they are mine.” A predatory glint shines in his eyes as he rakes his gaze over my physique. It's a slow, deliberate sizing up before a cruel smile twists his lips. His calloused hand is heavy as he pats my cheek, and the condescending chuckle that follows sends a shiver of rage down my spine. My whole body vibrates with barely contained fury.

“Defecting, then, Ronan? After everything you and I have been through together?” He clicks his tongue in a sharp tsk as he takes a half step back. “Such a pity. No matter how hard I pushed you to be stronger, you were always too fucking soft for this life.”

“Whatever punishment is due for my desertion, I’m ready to receive it.” I stand tall, wanting to leave this place so Cameron can make his escape. With or without the supplies inside, he’s smart… crafty. He’ll be fine.

A strange, gurgling laugh comes from the other officer, and my gaze shifts to him as his eyes flare. His smile is wrong, off-kilter, and he coughs a crimson spray that showers the grass beneath him. Blood stains his lips and teeth as both our eyes drop to his chest, where the tip of a large knife protrudes from his torso. Straight through his heart, with a slow bloom of bright red blood spreading outward. It slides down his armor in a thick, syrupy stream.

His body twists and reveals Cameron standing behind him, fury contorting his face. “No!” I bellow, as the wounded officer grabs at him with desperate hands, yanking Cameron’s jacket off his arms as the bloody knife slides free.

Right as the man collapses to his knees, palms over the blood gushing from his chest, Commander Bravis turns. His snarl morphs to astonishment as he stares at the mark that glows like the sun from Cameron’s arm.

“No, Cam, run!” I pull my sword from its sheath, darting between him and the commander. “Go!” I yell overmy shoulder, not daring to take my eyes off Bravis for even a second. “Please!”

Bravis looks past me at Cameron, although he speaks to me. “You have found your mate?”

“Do not look at him,” I growl, my hands tightening around the hilt of my sword, ready to strike at the slightest movement. “Keep your filthy eyes away from what belongs to me.”

His gaze locks back onto mine, the wheels turning in his mind as he considers the new information. “This changes everything, Ronan. Do not act in haste.”

“I will act as I see fit to protect him.”

“The supplies were for him, then? The rebel prisoners escaping…” I bare my teeth as the pieces connect in his head, forming the full picture. “It was to set him free, was it not? Ronan, put the sword down and let’s discuss this as reasonable men.”

“Discuss what, exactly?” I press forward, the edge of my blade indenting the flesh of his neck, and his hand twitches at his side in clear warning, itching to draw his weapon. “You will use this for your own gain. Pull him apart until he’s nothing but a lab experiment while you try to manipulate the bond between us.”

“You always were a hothead, even as a child.Think, Ronan. For two godsdamned seconds, consider what this could mean for our kind… what we could accomplish by understanding this on a deeper level. Until now, it’s been a myth, but this? This is real.” The tension in his posture loosens as he pulls his hand from his sword, showing me his palm as a gesture of peace.

I don’t believe it for a second.

“Your crimes are forgiven. They’reunderstandable, given the circumstances. You were simply protecting your mate, and I’m the only one who knows what happened here, so it can disappear. Nothing has to change. Come back to base—comehome—and bring him with you. You could live the life you’ve always known and have him, too.”

“Wow,” Cameron drawls, and the muscles in my jaw tighten. “You’re really going to talk about me like I’m a possession, and like I’m not standing right here. Real classy.”

“Not right now, Cameron,” I say through clenched teeth as Commander Bravis glances past me. “I said do not look at him!” My sword digs deeper into his neck, a single drop of blood trailing from underneath the blade as a smirk spreads over his lips.

“He’s a fighter, too, isn’t he? I wouldn’t expect that level of fire from the scrawny thing—”

“There we go,” Cameron mutters, “someone else calling me skinny.”

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