Page 99 of Ravaged By the Reaper
Some of the old guard hate it.
They call her soft. Delicate. Dangerous in the wrong way—like a beautiful bomb they can’t defuse.
Idiots.
Under her influence, our raids are cleaner. Strategic. The kind that don’t bleed needlessly. She plans ops like a symphony—every ship, every blade, every hack timed to the breath. Casualties are down. Hauls are up. Morale, ironically, has never been higher.
And still, one of them tries her.
It happens during the off-cycle. Most of the crew’s down in the galley or drunk in the den. I’m checking Bloodfont’s balance in the weapon forge when I hear the crackle of pain echo over the comm grid—faint, but it snags in my chest like a hook.
Cargo hold. Her biosignature. And another—male. Heavy. Bloodborn Reaper.
I move.
When I reach the threshold, the doors stutter open to a scene that sears itself into my memory.
She’s backed against a crate, stance loose, eyes locked. The bastard in front of her is Gurrak—bigger than me, dumb as voidrock. He’s sneering like she’s prey.
He swings.
She flows.
One dodge. One sharp twist.
She drops him.
Three hits.
First to the throat—fast and brutal. His growl chokes mid-sound.
Second to the knee—precision-strike. His leg buckles like snapped armor plating.
Third to the jaw—an uppercut forged in fury. His body slams the deck with a grunt, blood blooming from his mouth.
She doesn’t even break stride. Doesn’t hesitate.
I freeze.
Not because she’s in danger.
But because she isn’t.
And it slams into me—pride and rage colliding like asteroids inside my chest. Pride that she stood her ground. Rage that he ever thought he could lay a hand on her.
She turns to me, breath heaving, eyes bright with adrenaline.
“You going to stand there,” she says, voice all honey and steel, “or are you going to kiss me?”
Stars help me.
I do both.
I cross the hold in three strides, grip her waist like she’s mine to claim—and crash my mouth against hers. Fierce. Desperate. Not for dominance. For gratitude. For awe. For the raw, blistering truth of her.
She kisses me back just as hard, arms winding around my neck, her body warm and wild in my arms.
Around us, the crew begins to gather.
