Page 113 of Zayrik

Lowered the blaster. Then ran.

Nyla.

MyK’sha.

My everything.

I dropped to my knees beside her.

My hands found her, searching for movement, breath, anything.

Through our bond, I pushed strength, life, need.

Come back to me.

“Nyla,” I whispered.

Her pulse was weak. But there.

My breath stuttered.

Relief and fear warring in my chest.

There was a soft, broken trill from the corner.

A sound that broke something in me.

Zep.

Her loyal companion.

Her first defender.

He was curled on the floor, his small body trembling, barely conscious.

Another innocent Vask had hurt.

His death was too merciful for the things he had done.

I crossed the room in two steps, gathered him up—gently, reverently.

This tiny creature who’d tried to protect her.

Who’d fought alongside her.

Tucked him against Nyla’s chest where he belonged.

Neither of them resisted.

Neither moved.

That scared me more than anything.

More than blood or battle or death.

But I wasn’t wasting time.

Wasn’t letting fear paralyze me.

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