Page 68 of The Monster's Daughter
I stand there, pistol shaking in my hand, the cold biting through my clothes.
Natalie is gone.
My knees give out. I collapse against the floor, shards of glass cutting my palms.
Kage turns back to me, his face a mask of pure, animal fury and something worse—fear.
“She’s gone,” I whisper. “They took her.”
His claws scrape the wall, leaving deep gouges. “We’ll get her back.”
“How?” My voice cracks like broken glass. “They have her?—”
He crouches in front of me, his huge hands gripping my shoulders. His eyes burn like molten metal.
“We will get her back,” he says again, each word a vow. “Even if I have to tear the stars down.”
I press my forehead to his chest, shaking. The night smells like blood and smoke and salt.
Somewhere out there, my daughter is awake. Or asleep. Or—no, don’t think it.
I whisper her name.
Kage’s arms wrap around me like steel.
And in the darkness, I feel the last of my hope crack—then harden into something sharper.
Vengeance.
Because they didn’t just take my daughter.
They took the only reason I’d learned to breathe again.
And I will burn the galaxy to get her back.
CHAPTER 38
KAGE
We’re too late.
The gate’s still warm, the residual charge making my skin crawl as we hover in its wake. But the skimmer’s long gone—used diplomatic clearance to slice through warpspace without triggering alarms.
I slam my fist into the console. The screen fractures, lines spiderwebbing outward, sparks spitting at my claws.
“Dammit!”
Bella doesn’t flinch.
She hasn’t said a word since they took Natalie.
She sits in the co-pilot seat, arms crossed tight over her stomach, jaw locked, eyes fixed on the seat behind us—the one Natalie always claimed as hers. The stuffed animal’s scraps still litter the floor. I should’ve thrown them out. I couldn’t.
She just keeps staring.
I want to say something. Anything.
But my throat’s too tight and my heart’s not working right and every breath feels like glass.
