Page 42 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
“Remember our training with Master Haruki? He said changing partners sometimes helps avoid unhealthy routines.”
Logan pales, tea halfway to his lips. His gaze—Sam’s exact gaze—burns into me.
“You want to switch partners.”
“I’m leaving with Xenon and Jason. After the prison stop, they’ll drop me at HQ. Admiral Akifumi will assign me someone new. Stay with your sister until they send a replacement.”
His face contorts in confusion and pain. Before he asks, I confess:
“Sam and I kissed. I can’t stay.”
He punches me. Once. Then again. I let him.
When he raises his fist a third time, I catch it.
“Enough. I won’t fight you. You’re my friend. I deserved those. But if you hit me again, I’ll hit back.”
“She’s my little sister!” he growls.
“She’s nearly nineteen. And she’s... stunning. I didn’t plan it, but it happened. I know there’s no future for us. That’s why I’m leaving. I won’t risk coming back here with you and making the same mistake.”
He’s furious. I see it in his clenched jaw, his trembling hands.
But he also knows I’m right.
I’ve had all night to process it. He needs a moment.
At last, he nods. Barely.
I nod back, turn around, and head to the ship.
Leaving Gekkar Creek.
And the girl I can’t stop wanting.
11-Noviosk
We approach the island under cover of darkness, our ships blending into the thick cloud cover. We paid a hefty price for thedigital access code that would bypass Vagantu’s security grid—the stronghold where Xhor resides.
My men are tense, primed for action. Tonight, we strike at the heart of an organization that believes itself untouchable. Their slave market—infamous across the galaxy—will belong to me by dawn. It’s time to bring Xhor down and take control of his empire. He’s had three full cycles to prepare for this. If he failed to recognize the threat I represent, he deserves everything that’s coming.
I cast one last glance at my men. Their faces ooze determination and ferocity. They know what’s at stake. We’ve planned this assault for cycles, and now, it’s time. I clench my jaw, adrenaline pulsing in my veins. After this, I’ll be the ultimate master of this quadrant. That’s my goal—and I intend to reach it. We will succeed. It’s that or death. May the Stars guide our blades.
Finally, the signal is given. Our ships regroup. We’ll land on the approach strip while one hovercraft provides overhead cover. The element of surprise is crucial—we must strike before they can react.
Vagantu is a tiny planet, mostly water. Only the main island houses the prison where the auction specimens are kept. That’s where most of the defenses are concentrated—to guard their precious ‘merchandise’.
But Xhor, Vagantu’s current ruler, lives here—on this smaller, more discreet island. And far less protected. He has no idea what’s about to hit him. And I will kill him. That’s the only way to become the next ruler of Vagantu. Once he’s dead, the men guarding the main island will fall in line.
Moments later, we land in silence, boots hitting the damp landing pad without a sound. The darkness hides us. I signal my men to fan out and take position—just as we planned. Wemove forward, slow and measured. The gate comes into view, silhouetted against the starlit sky.
Then a cry of alarm shatters the quiet. We’ve been spotted. I react instantly, weapon raised. My shot is clean—the sentry drops. But the alarm is triggered. Lights flare on. Shouts echo. The gate bursts open, spitting out armed guards like insects.
They open fire without hesitation. No surprise—we weren’t exactly invited. My men and I respond with brutal efficiency. This is where we thrive—in chaos, in war. We’ve rehearsed this countless times. Strike hard, strike fast. That’s how the strong survive. Those who can’t protect their assets don’t deserve to keep them.
Blaster fire lights the darkness. We press forward, merciless, methodical. Xhor’s men try to resist, but they’re disorganized—caught off guard. We’re sharper. Deadlier. I see my fighters move like predators, every strike precise, lethal. We advance, leaving corpses in our wake. A few of mine fall too. That’s war.
Finally, we reach the gate. The last guards scramble, desperate to hold their ground, but we overwhelm them. They fall. I stand among broken bodies, chest heaving, the coppery scent of blood thick in my nostrils. It’s a smell I savor. First barrier—taken.
