Page 100 of Zayrik

Every step guided by the pull of our bond, by the need to reach her.

Anyone in my way got one warning.

Most didn’t get that.

Didn’t deserve it.

Not when her blood was being spilled.

I took down two guards in the lower access hall. Clean strikes, no sound.

Left them crumpled behind a supply rack.

Each strike precise, controlled, channeling the rage that threatened to consume me.

They weren’t Vask’s best.

He hadn’t needed them to be.

Because this wasn’t about keeping Nyla in.

It was about keeping me out.

About making me watch through our bond as he hurt what was mine.

The air reeked of fuel and blood and smoke.

And underneath it all?

Her.

The scent that had become home.

The essence that called to something primal in my blood.

Nyla’s scent still clung to the docking bay.

To the cargo lifts.

To the trail I followed like a godsdamn predator with nothing left to lose.

Like an ancient thing awakened by her pain.

She was still close.

I could feel it.

Could feel her through our bond. Hurt but defiant, scared but fighting.

My warrior. My mate. My everything.

My mating marks pulsed under my skin—she’s hurt, she’s hurt, she’s hurt—each throb a countdown to violence.

Each pulse a promise of retribution.

I hit the next junction and nearly took down the mechanic standing there.

Would have, if the need to reach her hadn’t stayed my hand.

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