Page 33 of Beast in the Badlands
Renn.
He stumbles in, his form imposing yet battered. His skin glistens with fresh blood, both his and that of his enemies—a dark pattern against his gray flesh that tells a story of violence and fury. A weapon drags at his side, nearly out of ammo but hardly out of menace. His muscles ripple beneath torn fabric as he forces himself forward, each step a laborious effort due to the limp that plagues him—a reminder of injuries sustained in battles past.
His face bears a mask of rage mixed with pain; sweat mingles with blood across his brow, highlighting every scar etched intohis features. Those sharp teeth flash briefly as he grimaces against the agony shooting through him, but his eyes—those stormy depths—lock onto mine.
For one fleeting moment, everything else falls away—the gunfire fades to a dull thrum in the background, screams blur into white noise—and all I see is him.
Time halts between us; I forget about the world outside this makeshift sanctuary. He feels like a dream made flesh—an unyielding force amidst chaos.
Then gravity reasserts itself.
My knees buckle as relief crashes over me like a tidal wave. Before I can fully process what’s happening, he’s there—arms wrapping around me like steel bands.
“Took you long enough,” I mutter against his chest, surprise flooding my voice as I feel that familiar warmth enveloping me.
He holds me tighter, every bit of strength channeling into that embrace as if to shield me from all that could hurt us again. “Don’t ever leave like that again.”
His voice is low and fierce; it thrums against my skin like an electric current igniting every nerve ending within me. In this moment where fear meets vulnerability, something shifts between us—something more profound than survival or duty.
Kira appears behind us, wide-eyed and shaken but still standing firm with her rifle ready at her side. She takes in Renn's battered state—bloodied clothes hanging loose on his powerful frame—and her jaw drops slightly in disbelief.
“W-What do you want from us?” she gasps out.
“Nothing,” Renn growls out through clenched teeth while glancing back toward the entrance as if daring any foe to step inside this sanctuary we’ve built together amidst ruin.
Kira nods slowly but doesn’t take her eyes off him as if she can’t quite reconcile the sight before her: a Reaper emerging from hellfire. She seems torn between fear and awe; even nowwhen death lurks at our doorstep, hope flickers tenuously within her gaze—a fragile light ignited by his presence alone.
I lean against him slightly more than necessary—not just from exhaustion but because he grounds me amid this whirlwind of chaos that threatens to swallow us whole again.
CHAPTER 26
EMRY
Ilean against Renn, breathless and alive in a way I haven't felt in weeks. He carries me toward an empty cot, each step a mix of determination and struggle, his muscles straining under my weight. My heart races—not just from the chaos we escaped but from the storm brewing around us.
As we reach the cot, the survivors gather, the remaining soldiers filing in from outside. Faces drawn tight with fear and uncertainty, they eye Renn with a mixture of awe and dread. I can feel the shift in energy—the moment they see him for what he is: a Reaper.
Panic ripples through the crowd like wildfire. Weapons raise instinctively; rifles and sidearms aimed at the hulking figure beside me.
“He’s one of them!” a younger soldier shouts, voice cracking with terror. “We’re dead if we let him stay!”
The accusation hits hard. I wrestle free from Renn's grip, determination pushing me to my feet. I place myself squarely between him and the crowd, trying to radiate calm despite my own racing pulse.
“He just saved your lives,” I snap, my voice ringing out clear against the clamor.
Silence falls for a heartbeat as they weigh my words. The tension thickens like smoke; their gazes flicker from me to Renn, assessing this monstrous savior who just tore through their enemies without mercy. Fear lingers in their eyes—he’s not just any Reaper; he’s a warrior forged in violence.
Yet here he stands, battered yet unyielding beside me, embodying strength that feels both foreign and familiar all at once.
A heavy-set woman clutches her child close, eyes wide with fear as she peers around me at Renn. The child looks up at her mother with confusion painted across his tiny features—he doesn’t understand why this being who saved us could also be viewed as danger.
“Emry,” Renn’s low growl breaks through my thoughts.
His voice carries an edge of urgency mixed with something softer—an appeal buried beneath layers of pain and power. It resonates deep within me; I want to believe it so desperately.
They hesitate but remain terrified, eyes glued to Renn like he’s a bomb about to go off—volatile yet oddly mesmerizing. Every heartbeat feels crucial now; it hangs in the air like an unsaid prayer, teetering on the brink of something new or something catastrophic.
I stand my ground, heart hammering against my ribs. The weight of their fear presses down, heavy and suffocating. They don’t understand him.
