Page 5 of Ravaged By the Reaper
I almost cry from the hope that flickers in my gut.
Instead, I grit my teeth and let one tear roll down my cheek, calculated and clean.
This isn’t over.
You don’t get to break me, Malem.
CHAPTER 2
HAKTRON
Iwake mid-howl, throat raw and chest heaving, the cry ripped from me like flesh from bone.
The sweat slicking my skin has gone cold. My claws dig trenches in the steel floor of the Widowmaker’s lower hold—again. Great. That’s the third time this week I’ll have to explain to maintenance why there’s a perfect Haktron-sized crater in bay seven.
My hearts pound in tandem, a twin drumbeat slamming in my ears. My vision blurs, red edges curling the world like paper near fire. Not from rage this time.
Fromher.
I don’t know her name. I’ve never seen her face before the dreams started, not that I recall—but gods, do Ifeelher. Slender hands curled into fists. Muffled screams. That sound she makes—half sob, half scream, pure anguish—burns itself into me every damn time.
She’s crying in my head again. Begging someone not to do it again. Whateveritis.
“Fragging spirits,” I snarl, slamming my fists into the bulkhead, rattling the walls. “Why won’t you let me sleep?!”
There’s a beat of silence. Then the door hisses open.
“You gonna cry or you gonna fight, Bloodsinger?”
Panaka.
Only Panaka could call me that without getting a blade to the gut. The old bastard stands in the threshold like a grim statue, his silhouette carved from shadow and scorn. His coat is draped over one shoulder, the other sleeve pinned where his left arm should be. He lost that arm in the Battle of Sarn’s Reach, didn’t even flinch.
“Captain,” I rasp, standing. I’m still panting, breath tasting of rust and ozone. “Didn’t mean to?—”
He waves a clawed hand. “Don’t insult us both with lies. You meant to howl. Youneededto.”
I say nothing. He watches me like he’s dissecting me with his eye—that one milky white orb still sharp as a blade.
“You dreamt her again,” he says flatly.
I nod once.
“She was in chains. Screaming,” I manage. “This time there was blood. On her mouth. On hereyes.They’ve got something crawling on her—some kind of mind leech or extractor, I don’t know. But she’s breaking, Captain. Every time I dream, I see her coming apart.”
Panaka grunts. Steps into the room and shuts the door behind him.
“You’ve seen her face?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Recognize her?”
“No. But I know her.” I clench my jaw. “Ifeelher.”
He folds his arms. “Describe her.”
She comes to me so clearly it’s like she’s burned into my retinas. “Human. Pale. Like snow that’s about to melt. Platinum hair. Blue eyes—coldblue, like glacial ice just before it cracks. Delicate features. Beautiful, but not fake. Like… crafted.”
