Page 85 of Akur

Akur’s gaze found hers through the barrier. Even though he could hardly open his eyes, she could see that he was only focused on her. “Don’t look, bright eyes.”

But she couldn’t look away as the guard began his work. Each cut was precise, calculated to cause maximum pain without fatal damage. Dark blood welled up in precise lines across Akur’s chest. He didn’t shout out this time, but his jaw clenched so tight she could hear his teeth grinding.

“The cellular structure of the Shum’ai is…fascinating,” the Tasqal said conversationally, as if discussing the weather. “So resilient. They can endure so much more than most races before their bodies give out.” It stepped closer again. “It was a pity when your world did not yield, Shum’ai. We once thought Tonvuhiri, that you Shum’ai, might be the key we were waiting for in all these orbits. That your regeneration could spark ours.”

“Once?” Constance croaked.

The Tasqal moved its shoulders like it shrugged. “Useless. We couldn’t get a serum to actualize.” Then it hummed in its throat, that definite sneer on its face once more. “But that regeneration.” She couldhave sworn it groaned. “It made your females perfect for our purposes.”

Now, that made Akur grunt, lips pulling back in a snarl.

The guard switched to a different blade, this one glowing with heat. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as he pressed it against Akur’s wounds, cauterizing them even as he cut new ones.

Constance retched, bile burning her throat. But she forced herself to keep watching. She owed him that much, at least. To witness his suffering, to share it in the only way she could.

“Your deaths will have meaning,” the Tasqal continued. “Your bodies will nurture the next generation ofmykind. Is that not a noble end?”

“I’ll show you a noble end,” Akur growled, then spat blood in the creature’s face again. He faced the Tasqal, staring at him with eyes that blazed violence and thunder.

The Tasqal wiped the blood away almost delicately. Then it plunged its hand into one of Akur’s open wounds, twisting its fingers. This time, Akur couldn’t hold back his roar. And she screamed with him. The sound tore through her, ignited something desperate and dark. Her hands slammed against the floor, again and again, the impact jarring up her arms. She barely felt the skin splitting on her knuckles, barely noticed the smears of red she was leaving on the pristine surface. All she knew was Akur’s pain, and her complete inability to stop it.

“Fascinating,” the Tasqal mused, withdrawing its bloody hand. “Such loyalty between species. Such devotion. It makes breaking you so much more…satisfying.”

“You want satisfaction?” Akur’s voice was raw, but his eyes still blazed with hatred. “Come closer. I’ll show you satisfaction when I rip your spine out through your throat.”

The Tasqal’s lipless mouth curved. “Still so much fight. Good. It will make this last longer.” It turned to face her. “Remember, human. I do not expect the Shum’ai to reveal the secrets we want.” He sneered a little. “His kind is frustratingly loyal. Often known to take secrets to the end. Even to death. But you…” He sneered wider. “Your kind isweak. Emotional. Every moment of his pain is because of you. Every drop of lifeblood, every breath of agony—you could end it all with a few simple words.”

“She doesn’t know,” Akur gritted through the pain. “And even if she did, she would not tell you,scum.”

Constance met his gaze. Despite everything, despite the blood and pain, she saw the same strength there that had drawn her to him from the start. The same unwavering spirit.

“Shum’ai aren’t the only ones who can keep their promises,” she whispered.

Pride flickered in Akur’s eyes before another shock rod was pressed into him.

Time lost meaning after that. Minutes or hours passed in a haze of blood and screams. The Tasqal tried different methods, different tools, but always with the same detachment. As if Akur was dirt in the street rather than a living being.

Through it all, Akur never broke. Never begged. Even when they brought in devices that made his muscles seize and his back arch until she thought his spine would snap, he kept his defiance. But she could see him weakening, see the light in his eyes growing dimmer.

He was going to die. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Finally, the Tasqal stepped back, regarding its handiwork with those cold black eyes. “Enough for now. Let them rest. Consider what awaits you on the next sol.” Bubbles popped as it laughed, and with the sound came the stench of rot. “After all, you have no power here, rebel.” It glided to the door, then paused. “Oh, and so you don’t get too comfortable—”

It gestured and the gator-guard activated a control panel set into the wall. The chains holding Akur suddenly retracted upward and stretched farther apart, pulling him higher along the wall and stretching his limbs. His shoulders made a horrible grinding sound as they bore his full weight.

“Rest well.” The Tasqal’s words dripped with mock concern as it left.

When they were alone, Constance pressed as close to the barrier as she could without touching it. “Akur?”

He lifted his head with obvious effort. “Still here, bright eyes.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” Despite everything, his voice was firm. “This isn’t your fault.”

“They’re hurting you because of me.”

“They’re hurting me because they’re monsters.” He tried to shift position but could only manage a slight swing of his body. “This was always a possibility when I chose to come after you.”

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