Page 70 of Mated to the Monster God
The comm crystal blinks to life in my hand, its red glow bleeding into my claws. I don’t need to hear the message again. I feel it in the tremor of wind rattling the jungle canopy, in the shift of threat slipping through my bones. Esme’s voice—fragile, final—cracks against the storm.
“Sagax… please, don’t follow. I’ll do this. I love you.”
My vision coils red-hot. My world narrows.
I swing my fist—scale crashing against steel wall. Metal splinters explode. My fist sinks through girders, coring through steel like dark honey through air. Sparks shower, detritus explodes. My roar roars out—thunder incarnate—the jungle answers, birds exploding skyward with startled cries.
No contemplation. Only one truth pulses through me: rescue.
I burst out of the barrier, rain drumming the world into chaos, heartbeat like artillery. I sniff the air—her scent is a scorch. Resin and fear, salt and tremor—it tethers me.
Baragon drones sweep near the trench. I flatten into jungle overgrowth, muscle memory riding adrenaline. I’ve hunted with her. I’ve stalked the wild. Now I blend into shadow. Leavesration silver across my chest. My breath slows. Every movement economized, silent.
Find her.
My claws glide through underbrush. I recall her steps the night before. I chart the decoy trail. I sense where she didn’t turn, where her resolve displaced her steps.
My limbs pump, trees blur. I slip between Baragon patrols—heavy footfalls thunder against my lungs, but I am stalking lightning. Their mirrored helmets sweep for targets. My presence skirts the edge of recognition, but fear is their lens—fear of me or of what I protect.
I taste storm in my throat. I chase her scent across mud, across broken logs and fuse-wire.
My bond hums—her heartbeat, faint but faithful, ratcheting into heartbeat mine. I slow, listen.
Footsteps—bare, wet—from the breach. I curl behind rubble. I see her form—thin, soaked through, every inch trembling with resolve.
She steps onto the ramp leading to the command ship.
Rage clamps over me like steel. My tail lashes. Every creature in me awakens.
A drone hisses past with a missile launcher. I leap—my arm arcs, bone-slasher claws shatter its sensor head. The drone plummets, metallic wailing.
I scramble after her, every sense sliding to single-focus.
She ducks into the ship’s maw. I roar—a challenge and a vow.
Inside, I strip armor on the run, careful not to slow. Resin-glowing in my pack.
Corridors reek of sterility and betrayal. Flashing red lights warn of locks. I pause—fist clenches, chewing air.
Her scent whispers—closer. I recharge, muscles primed.
The crystal in my pocket burns with the echo of her voice.“Don’t follow. I love you.”Everything inside me fractures, foldsinto jagged, twin truths—my heart could never obey. I need to be where she is.
I cloak. My scales ripple, draining into muted tones that match damp steel and jungle gloom. Cloaking isn’t camouflage—it’s unmaking. I become shadow.
Baragon guards prowl the corridors with mechanical precision. Their booted steps click sharp against the metal floor. Their mirrored helmets reflect nothing but fear—or they would, if they could reflect me.
I edge forward, inching through vent shafts. The world narrows to breath and pulse and the scent of her. I can taste it—rain-soaked determination and fear and so many unsaid words.
A guard rounds the corner, pulse rifle drawn. I time his footfall. My fist coils into bone-blade claws and snaps. No noise. One movement—but the dull, internal crack echoes in the steel. The guard goes slack. I drop him like broken driftwood. His rifled helmet tilts open. No scream.
I move on.
My muscles ripple beneath cloaks of stealth. I vault over obstacles in silence, flattening my ribs against ceilings or walls wherever sonar sweeps through emptiness. Each breath I swallow is sacred.
The corridors twist, the ship hums, the rain distantly hammers.
I kill two more guards in darkness: one’s head snaps back, rain water pouring from his broken helmet; the other’s pulse stops mid-step as I snap his spine.
