Page 20 of Mated to the Monster God
My stomach clenches. “Sweetwater’s right there. My family?—”
He cuts me off gently, but firmly. “We should not approach.”
My head snaps around, braid whipping against my shoulder. “What?”
“Not yet,” he says. His eyes don’t leave the skyline. “It’s too dangerous. You’re vulnerable in the open. They’ll be watching for movement. Scanning. You could be captured or?—”
“I don’t care!” My voice pitches up, raw and fierce. “That’s my family down there! My brother, my sister, my parents! You think I’m just gonna sit here andwatchwhile the Baragon crawl all over Sweetwater?”
His jaw tightens. “I’m not suggesting you do nothing. I’m saying we need to be cautious. We’ll wait for nightfall. I can scout ahead alone?—”
“Don’t,” I snap, stepping back, practically shaking. “Don’t act like you get to make the call. You’re not in charge of me.”
Sagax tilts his head slightly, his posture still, his massive arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t argue, which makes it worse somehow. Makes me feel childish and impulsive, like I’m the one being reckless.
But Iambeing reckless, and I know it. It just doesn't change what I have to do.
He exhales slowly, gold eyes narrowing. “You are... distressed. I feel it. I understand.”
“No,” I say, pacing a little now, heat rising under my skin. “No, youdon’t. You don’t get it. You weren’t raised here. You don’t know what it’s like to build something from the dirt up andknow you could lose it in a single solar cycle. That colony is my whole life. Myhome. I’ve got to go back.”
“I am trying to protect you,” he says, and there’s a roughness to it now, like gravel underfoot. “That is not control. That is instinct.”
I stop pacing and square off with him, fists clenched.
“Well maybe I don’t need a goddamn instinct watching over me,” I hiss. “Maybe I need a friend. Someone who trusts me to handle my own life!”
His expression doesn’t change, but something behind his eyes dims. The bond between us pulses with tension, like a cable stretched too tight. I feel his restraint like a wall. But I also feel the hurt. That’s new. It makes my throat ache worse than the shouting.
“Fine,” I mutter, shoving past him. “If you’re so dead set on lurking in the woods like some overgrown stalker, go ahead. I’m going home.”
His voice is quiet. “Esme…”
“Don’t,” I say, not looking back. “Just—don’t.”
The air between us fractures, filled with things unsaid. And then I’m moving, feet crunching over brittle twigs and moss, each step putting more distance between us. The trees close around me again, thick and humid and whispering with leaves.
I don’t cry. I don’t even look back. But my chest feels hollow, like something vital got ripped out and left behind in that clearing.
And the worst part? I know he’s still watching. Protecting. Even from the shadows.
He always will be.
I duckunder a low-hanging vine and nearly trip. My lungs are heaving, my vision a scrub of blurred greens and browns—but a sharper, more terrifying sight snaps me erect: Sweetwater Colony, laid out below like a fortress under siege.
Smoke billows in rope-thick threads from the outer walls. Sharp echoes of shouts, the clang of shovels on rock, and the soft tremor of artillery blasts weave through the air. My heart pounds so hard I taste it in my mouth.
Tara is already there—commanding, authoritative. Her red hair is plastered to her forehead with sweat as she dispatches colonists from one supply line to another, rallying them to load medbags and shift wounded toward the triage tents. Blondie crouches beside a cluster of feverbloom plants—her botanist’s instincts morphing into desperation as she carefully harvests them for their antiseptic properties.
Rick stands atop a section of partially repaired wall, welding together pieces of salvaged metal with crackling sparks that hover like fallen fireflies. Every motion is frantic, every move a gamble.
The colony is fracturing under the pressure.
I can’t stay hidden.
I sprint onto the open ground, lungs screaming in protest as I race toward my family. Three shots ring out—plasma rounds arcing into the sky, a warning or a test. I ignore it. My focus narrows to two people: Dad and Jimmy.
“Dad!” I shout as I cross into the fray.
