Page 14 of Ruin

A large hand settled on the back of her neck, the weight of it grounding her.

He set off at a ground-eating lope, clutching her tight while somehow remaining utterly silent.

She focused on the reassuring thud of his heartbeat against her ear, the coiled power rippling beneath scar-mottled skin with each stride.

Reaching the end, he surreptitiously exited the corridor, coming out behind a merchant’s stall in a bustling marketplace. Still holding her, Ruin fluidly joined the crowd, becoming just another body among many, moving at a clip that implied purpose without being hurried.

For her part, Lira was busy gaping at the sights over his shoulder.

Level eighteen was beautiful and so… clean. Wide manicured paths and open courtyards were lined with stalls and kiosks. Multi-colored awnings provided shade from lighting that mimicked sunlight instead of the garish neons she was used to.

Everywhere she looked were plants. Hanging in pots, filling decorative vessels, and growing directly out of the ground.

Even the air here was different: warmer, cleaner, and scented with the delicate fragrance of alien flowers overlaid with exotic foods.

Perhaps most noticeable was the change in the people on this level.

The variety of species was basically the same, but gone were the tattered rags and desperation clinging to those who inhabited the lower sectors.

Here, everyone was well-dressed and moved with arrogant confidence, draped in layers of luxurious fabrics, jewelry, and ostentatious accessories. The advertisements shifted, too, politely hinting at their disreputable wares and services instead of stating them outright.

Looking into the gazes of those they passed, she decided maybe they weren’t so different, after all.

They were better dressed, sure, but they still had the predatory glint in their eyes she was used to seeing in the criminals and scumbags with which Vargot associated.

Making a sudden left, Ruin ducked into an alcove tucked behind a towering hedge and set her on her feet.

“Stay here, stay hidden. Be my eyes, hmm?” He drew a tiny silver disk no bigger than her thumbnail from a pocket and handed it to her. “You see anythin’ suspicious or need me, click this twice.”

Hiding the nerves she felt at him going out there alone, she nodded sharply.

He shot her a look of approval, lips curling ever so slightly. “Good girl.”

Then he was gone, stalking off toward the archway separating the market district from the lodging district. Somehow, he managed to appear like he belonged among all these wealthy beings in their refinery, despite not being dressed anything like them.

Tucking herself tighter against the hedge, she swept the area, eyes darting from one face to the next, wary of every potential threat.

Unable to help herself, she scanned the crowd until she spotted the back of Ruin’s tattooed head. He seemed to flow between the oblivious patrons, each step purposeful yet unobtrusive.

She refocused on her immediate surroundings when a group of red-skinned Drifters passed by, tails lashing merrily as they jostled each other, swapping crude jokes. Lira shrank back involuntarily, scars twinging with phantom pain at the sight of their short black horns and flashing white fangs.

One of them glanced her way, amber eyes narrowing as his nose twitched, no doubt catching her fear-laced scent. She forced herself to remain still, knowing better than to flee.

After an endless second, the Drifter's gaze slid off her dismissively. The breath she’d been holding whooshed out, and she clutched the disk tighter.

The minutes ticked by at an agonizing crawl. She resisted the urge to fidget and kept her mind firmly focused on watching for danger instead of letting it slip off into daydreams.

Just when she thought she couldn't bear the suspense any longer, she spotted Ruin working his way back through the crowd toward her.

There wasn’t even time to feel relief before a prickling sensation crawled up her spine.

She went still, searching for the source of that intuition. Her gaze fell on a trio of Voragons in the distance, their armoreddraconian scales gleaming under the artificial sunlight. Their reptilian eyes fixed on one figure: Ruin.

Were they guards? Thieves? People he knew?

She thought guards by the way they were dressed.

Her heart hammered against her chest, eyes bouncing from them to Ruin and back again, indecision warring. Should she press the disk? Call out to him? Do nothing?

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