Page 19 of Chained to the Champion
I remained motionless until their footsteps faded. Until I was sure. Only then did the mask fall. Rage bubbled. Chained but threatening to break free.
That guard would die. They would all die. For touching her. For threatening her. For daring to believe they could take what was mine.
Mine.
The word pulsed. Blood. Bones. Teeth. A truth I could no longer deny. Inconvenient. Impossible. The mate bond sang between us. Invisible, undeniable. Growing with each breath.
I paced beneath the arena’s banners. Mind racing. The tournament was a death trap. My injured wing, a crippling disadvantage. But choice was an illusion.
I had to fight. Win. Free Vega. Without getting us killed.
All while battling that bond. That maddening pull. Thatminethat threatened to unravel everything.
I turned back toward the inn. Steps heavy with purpose. Tomorrow would bring blood. Pain.
It would not, however, bring Vega’s death. I swore it. On everything I was.
The guard’s threat echoed.Dawn. Or your pet dies screaming.
Dawn, then. And may the gods have mercy on anyone who stood in my way.
9
VEGA
The Ignarath guard's filthy,hooked talon scraped my neck as he shoved me. Hard. I stumbled, boots skidding on slime-slick dirt, but caught myself. No way was I giving the bastard the satisfaction of seeing me fall. The cell door slammed shut behind me with a final, echoingthumpthat vibrated through the stone and my teeth.
“Enjoy your new home, pet.” The guard’s sneer stretched his scaled face, yellow eyes lingering like dirty fingers. Malice dripped off him. “Your master better show tomorrow. Or the arena gets a new screamer.” He grunted, a wet, satisfied sound, and finally, his heavy footfalls faded down the corridor.
Only then did I let myself breathe. Air thick with old blood, piss, and the sour tang of fear-sweat hit the back of my throat. My jaw pulsed, a deep ache where one of them had clocked me. I tasted blood, copper and sharp, inside my cheek.
Alive. Check.
Functional? Jury was still out.
The cell was a pit. Damp in ways I didn’t want to think too hard about. A waste bucket in the corner, radiating its own special stink. Degradation by design.
And eyes. Staring from the shadows. Five pairs. Human.
My heart did a sick little flip-flop, then pounded against my ribs like it wanted out. Gaunt faces. Hollowed-out eyes that held less life than ghosts. Hunger, yeah, but something else. Resignation. That flat, dead look that comes after hope gets ripped out too many times. Three women, two men. Earth clothes shredded to rags. Bodies like stick figures draped in bruises.
“Who the hell are you?”
The voice was rough gravel scraped over stone. It belonged to a woman standing protectively before the others. Dark hair hacked short, eyes narrowed, sharp with suspicion. It was the same question the woman in the other cell had asked, but harder, and somehow more resigned.
I pulled myself straighter, ignoring the sharp protest from my ribs. “I'm Vega Cross. I'm here to rescue you.”
And some job of that I was doing.
The words just hung there in the stale, stinking air. Nobody moved. No cheers, no relief. Just that sharp-eyed stare, dissecting me. Was I hallucinating? A liar? Some new Ignarath mind-fuck?
“Rescue?” A softer voice, cracked with disuse. Hope flickered, fragile as a candle flame. A woman with olive skin, faded magenta streaks clinging stubbornly to strands of black hair, took a hesitant step forward. “How? Were you on theNostos?”
“Yes.” I kept my voice low, trying to sound reassuring, even as my own guts churned. “I was in a sleeping pod that crashed near Scalvaris. Another Drakarn city. They're … different.”
Different. Christ, what an understatement.
But asking about theNostosmeant these were exactly the humans I was looking for. We'd all crammed into those sleeping pods and surrendered our fate to a ship and an unknown future on some human colony in far off space. It wasn't supposed tobethere, but we were alive, and that was what mattered at that moment.
