Page 31 of Hunted By the Wraiths
Three hours had passed. The alarm on Maris’s datapad beeped.
I stood. The world tilted. I waited for it to stop. It didn’t.
My internal assessment was grim. The plasma burn on my shoulder was infected. The vibro-blade wound in my side was worse. Fresh blood had soaked through the synth-skin during our earlier activities.
Activities. That was one word for it.
The bond hummed in the back of my head. Steady. Present. Maris’s determination bled through the connection, sharp and focused.
Six on the pain scale. Down from twenty. The conditioning had been broken, but the physical damage remained.
I could work with six.
“Ready?” Maris asked.
“Mm.”
She’d pulled her hair back. Checked her weapons. The Inventory Queen was fully operational, cataloging threats and resources in that relentless way she had.
I’d missed watching her work.
We moved into the tunnel. She took point. I followed, my hand on the wall to steady myself when the dizziness hit.
The bond let me feel her awareness. Not her thoughts. Just her presence. Her focus. The way she tracked every sound, every shadow.
We’d fought together before. Two years of missions, back when we were just mercenaries, fighting side-by-side. We’d been good then.
Now we were better.
The bond made the difference. I knew where she was without looking. Knew when she was about to move before she moved. The connection ran deeper than conscious thought.
The scientists had spent eight years trying to weaponize the Tamzari bond. They’d failed because they’d only had one half of the equation.
Turned out, the bond was already a weapon. Just not the kind they’d wanted.
We reached the first checkpoint. Two guards. Maris raised her hand. Two fingers left, one finger right.
I moved left. She moved right.
The guard heard me coming. Turned. Too slow. I hit him in the throat, pulled the strike so I only collapsed his windpipe partially instead of crushing it completely, caught him as he fell.
Maris’s guard was already down. Clean nerve strike.
She really was magnificent.
My side wound tore. Fresh blood. Wet heat. The pain spiked from six to seven.
Still manageable.
We kept moving. Up through the maintenance levels. Past dormant server rooms and forgotten storage bays.
The bond hummed. I felt Maris’s constant assessment. Counting exits. Tracking patrol patterns. Building backup plans for the backup plans.
She’d built this empire from nothing. Knew every tunnel, every access point, every weakness in her own security.
Now she was using that knowledge to take it back.
The second checkpoint had four guards. Professional mercenaries, based on their gear and positioning.
