Page 39 of Akur

“You don’t want to know, sweet thing.”

Her eyes fluttered at the term of endearment. “Lean on me,” she whispered. “I won’t tell anyone you needed help from a human.”

He tensed before grunting a laugh. “I get the impression your secret-keeping skills are questionable at best.”

“Hey, I can keep secrets. I’m a therapist, remember?”

“You mentioned it. Once or twice.”

“Well, it’s kind of important to my identity.” She shifted slightly, adjusting to his weight. “Like being a warrior is to yours.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “A warrior would not be here,” he finally said. “Accepting aid from—” He broke off with a growl, his muscles tensing beneath her hands. “This goes against everything I trained to be.”

Before she could respond to that surprisingly vulnerable statement, therewas a click and dim lights flickered to life around them. The room was smaller than she’d initially thought, with rough stone walls and what looked like medical items, food, and other things arranged on a table at the center. There was no sign of their mysterious guide.

And the door they’d come through was sealed tight—no handle, no control panel, no visible way to open it from their side.

They were trapped. Again.

Constance looked up at Akur, really seeing him clearly for the first time since the battle began. His injuries were exactly as she’d feared. He looked as if he’d been through the wringer. How was he even speaking, let alone standing? But it was the look in his eyes that caught her attention—pain, yes, but also something else. Something that made her breath catch in her throat.

“Well,” she said, trying to keep her voice light, “at least we’re not dead yet.”

“Yet,” he agreed, but his eyes didn’t leave her face. “You should have kept running.”

“Yeah, well.” She gave him a small smile. “I wasn’t going to leave you; let you die in a swarm of monster mole rats.”

“You should have listened.”

“And you shouldn’t have come.” She frowned at him. “You came alone to take on an entire army by yourself?” She paused, studying him. She couldn’t think of one good reason why he’d done it. “What were you thinking?”

He shrugged. “I’m stubborn.”

“Well,” she followed him to the ground as he lowered himself, “so am I.”

“So I’ve noticed.” His lips twitched. “Human.”

“Warrior,” she countered, and felt him chuckle despite his injuries.

There was a sound at the door that made them both stiffen. A narrow panel opened, and she found herself looking into impossibly dark eyes.

Dark eyes that haunted her nightmares. Eyes she’d seen in holo-imagesof the beings that had destroyedeverything. It felt like her blood stopped running as she went rigid. It was a High Tasqal. The architect of all this death and destruction was right here.

Her heart gave a big, frightened wallop as she lifted the blaster in both her hands. Those dark eyes didn’t even flinch.

“Akur!”

“At ease, human,” the Tasqal said. Even her breath stilled. That voice… It was the same voice as the mysterious stranger who had been helping them. Her heart gave another thud. The being that assisted them had been a High Tasqal?!

“Akur?” A question now, her voice wavering as she kept the blaster aimed at the door. She wanted him to tell her she was wrong. That this was some trick of the light, some misunderstanding. But his silence told her everything.

The piece of shit that had started this was pretending to help them?! Playing some sick game while they stumbled through the dark? Her stomach rolled as puzzle pieces clicked into place: the mysterious rescues, the convenient escapes, the way they’d found just the right tunnel…

They hadn’t been rescued. They’d been herded. Like cattle. Sheep.

The room suddenly felt too small, the walls pressing in. Her breath came in quick gasps as she looked frantically around the sealed chamber. No exits. No escape routes. They’d walked right into the heart of the enemy’s lair, following their tormentor straight to the slaughterhouse.

Now she understood Akur’s initial rage. His distrust. The way he’d nearly attacked at just the sound of that voice. He’d known. He’d recognized what they were dealing with. And he’d had to swallow his hatred just to keep them alive.

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