Page 37 of Survivor
“Vraxxan!” My heart slammed against my ribcage, terror clawing up my throat. He had barely broken a sweat handling a dozen guards, but even in his enhanced state, a hundred was a death sentence. No one could survive those odds.
At my side, Vysar’s body coiled like a spring, muscles tensing for battle. A fierce, guttural roar erupted from deep within his chest. But it wasn’t just a battle cry. It was a summons. Moments later, scores of armed Peecha burst from the tree line. Terk spearheaded the charge, flanked by Ceeka, who brandished Vysar’s gleaming twin blades and my bow, along with a quiver of arrows. The healer ran straight toward us, handing Vysar his blades and placing the bow and arrows into my hands before diving into battle.
“Get to higher ground. Your aim will be better,” Vysar hissed through clenched teeth before launching himself into the bloody maelstrom.
I sprinted toward a nearby hill, my lungs burning as I scrambled up the slope, dropping to one knee in a shooter’s stance at the summit. Under Vraxxan’s tutelage, my skills hadsharpened these past weeks. My aim and my growing strength had made me quite deadly with an arrow.
Deadly.
I’d never killed anything before, save for a few small animals. But with my mate’s survival hanging in the balance, I didn’t hesitate. Muscle memory took over, and I nocked an arrow, drew the bowstring to my cheek, and released. The projectile whistled through the air before burying itself deep in a guard’s gut with a sickening thud.
The battle unfolded with ferocious intensity, a spectacle more savage than any Hollywood production. Vraxxan moved like a force of nature—swatting away attackers with bone-crushing force. Vysar was poetry in motion, his twin blades flashing like liquid silver, each strike precise and fatal. The Peecha, though dwarfed by the towering Zarpazians, were wicked fast, darting like shadows as they dodged lethal blows and delivered their own with stunning precision.
I channeled my focus entirely on Vraxxan. While he grappled with ten or more guards simultaneously, I aimed my arrows at vulnerable joints and exposed flesh, disabling would-be attackers with flawless accuracy.
The battle and desperate need to protect my mate consumed my every sense. So much so that I failed to notice the guard slithering up the hillside behind me until rough fingers tangled in my hair, violently wrenching me to my feet. I swallowed the scream of rage and pain that threatened to escape, knowing any sound would divert Vraxxan's and his father’s attention. A momentary distraction that could prove catastrophic in the blood-soaked chaos before me.
The guard clamped a stinking, slimy hand over my mouth, suffocating my curses as he dragged me toward the spaceship, slithering through dense foliage and inky shadows to avoid detection.
Once we reached the ramp, his demeanor transformed. He stomped up the metal pathway with savage pride, his boots clanging against the surface before hurling me forward like discarded trash. I crashed at the queen’s feet; the impact reverberating through my bones.
I scrambled to my hands and knees, my palms slipping on the slick metal as my vision swam into focus. The queen loomed before me, a towering nightmare of scales and malice. To my side lay Diarvet, his body a canvas of torture—flesh torn and weeping, a thick metal collar biting into his throat, and the hilt of a knife protruding from his side, dark blood oozing around the wound. Yet despite his mangled state, his piercing blue eyes burned with defiance, his will unbroken.
“Thank you, Haslot.” The queen dismissed the guard with an almost polite nod, and I heard the thud of his footsteps recede as he rejoined the battle.
Suddenly, vicious fingers tangled in my hair, roots screaming as she yanked me upward until I was standing on my toes like a ballerinaen pointe. The queen’s face filled my vision, her pale gold eyes covering me with contempt. Her gaze sliced over me from head to toe, her lips curling into a sneer that revealed razor-sharp teeth.
“What a useless lump of stinking flesh.” She spat. The warm, viscous liquid landed with a sickening splat in my hair, trickling down my scalp.
“Fuck you,” I hissed, my voice raw with hatred. I’d survived dying of cancer. This bitch wouldn’t break me.
A predatory smile played at her lips. “Humans are so ridiculous to think about sex at the time of death.”
I mentally amended my earlier retort.Idiot bitch.
Behind me, the cacophony of battle swelled—metal clashing against metal, guttural cries of pain and fury—but the queen remained unnervingly focused. She extracted a daggerfrom the sheath at her side with ritual slowness. The weapon gleamed obscenely. Solid gold inlaid with rough-cut jewels that caught the light like drops of frozen blood.
“I wanted to spill your blood on Zarpazia, on the same soil my precious Vreses walked. To take my time and let your screams play as music through the halls of the castle. But your bewitchment of my son makes that impossible now,” she mused, studying the blade as she rolled it through her fingers, the edge catching light with each rotation.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I retorted, squaring my shoulders as much as possible when being held like a marionette.
“No matter.” The queen shrugged, the movement so graceful it was almost hypnotic, like a cobra preparing to strike. “Your blood will spill as retribution. Then, Vraxxan and I will return to Zarpazia and rule as destiny intended.”
“You leave Vraxxan alone,” I demanded, thrashing against her iron grip on my hair. Pain exploded across my scalp as strands tore from the roots, but her hold remained unbroken. The bitch was strong.
“Pitiful stinking human.” The queen’s eyes glittered with sadistic pleasure as she watched my futile struggles.
“Fuck you!” I hissed again, venom dripping from each syllable.
This time, she met my defiance with the thunderous crack of her hand against my cheek. The force sent me sprawling backward, stars exploding behind my eyes as an involuntary cry of pain tore from my throat.
“Lucy!” Vraxxan bellowed my name, his voice shattering through the chaos. The raw fear and love in his tone at realizing my predicament cut deeper than any blade, making hot tears sting my eyes.
The queen seized me by my hair again, wrenching me to my feet. She spun me around to witness the raging battle. Vraxxan fought like a man possessed, his movements a blur of desperate fury as he tried to reach me. Vysar, Tark, and Ceeka battled alongside him, but the mass of guards separated them from the spaceship like a churning, violent sea. Uncrossable.
“Time to die, human,” she hissed, her breath hot against my ear.
The queen forced me to my knees again, her grip on my hair vicious as she yanked my chin upward, exposing my neck. She would cut my throat, and I was powerless to stop it. My gaze frantically searched through the haze of battle, finally locking onto Vraxxan, who fought like a demon trying to reach me. Our eyes met and held across the chaos. I did not look away. I wanted his face—even contorted with rage and desperation—to be my last sight in this world.
