Page 22 of Tattooed Cowboy
I glance toward the table—light threads through the boards, flickering over the empty space where the dampener should be. My stomach drops—until Melody presses the box into my hand. The bond still strong enough for her to answer my desperation.
The ancient tech doesn’t bother her. But with me, it’s agony. Still cracked but functional enough to muffle our signal. I force its frequency to spike. The damage ripples through my body, humming out a painful counterfrequency. It crackles through my bones, blackens the bandage wrapped tightly around my hand.
Melody’s eyes round with horror. The Hollowed stagger, lights flickering for one moment that tastes like hope. But it isn’t enough.
I motion for Melody, crawl with her to the back door. Then, I try to push her through. “Ride hard. Don’t look back.”
But she holds steady, amber and moss eyes simmering. “Not without you.”
The bond flares—too bright, too alive. Melody’s bracelet shivers, emitting a faint harmonic counterpoint. A defense neither of us understands.
Her brow arches, defiant.
But it’s too late.
A metallic signal rises. Ancient language flattened by code.
“Unauthorized frequency. Identify.”
A Sentinel’s lock.
I push the dampener harder. My teeth hum, the device searing my palm. The cabin walls crack, an invisible pulse bursting free like an EMP. The smell of scorched flesh fills the room.
“Now, run!”
We burst into the open pasture. Lightning flashes, painting the night in violent silver as the Hollowed ones freeze, rebooting mid-stride.
I boost her onto the Palomino. “Hope you can ride bareback.”
The mare bolts. I mount Winnie, chasing her through sleet and fog.
The range sings differently now—deeper, protective. Almost maternal. Like the mountain gathers us beneath its wings.
We ride through sleet and mist. The range singing differently now, responding to us, protecting us. Almost like a mother hen gathering chicks beneath her wings.
The bond becomes our compass. Fog wraps us in white shadow, muting the world.
Each fork in the trail feels guided by a hand we can’t see. The Sentinels’ lights fade behind us, swallowed by storm and stone.
Melody glances back once, eyes finding mine through the rain. Her thoughts slide into my head…
The purges. The hunts. The families lost.
She sees Sentinel on Wildblood, locked in combat, not as myth but as memory—mygenetic memory.
We drop into a ravine, disappearing as the Starborn aurora flickers overhead—its reds and purples bleeding across the clouds like the sky itself remembers what we’ve done.
Chapter
Eight
MELODY
The world finally stops shaking. For a heartbeat, even the wind forgets itself.
Only our horses move—steam rising from their flanks, breath ghosting white against the night. The rest of the range has gone still, as if the mountain itself is holding its breath.
My pulse won’t settle. I can still feel him through the bond, faint but there—like a second heartbeat under my skin. Every few moments it flickers, a reminder that the cabin still echoes through us both.
