Page 51 of Akur

“Wait!”

“I am ready to end him.” The words rumbled from deep in his chest.

“Me too!” Her vehemence made him pause, golden eyes flicking to her face. “But we need to listen to what he’s saying.”

From the floor where he’d landed, the Tasqal released a wet sound. “It doesn’t matter.”

There was something in those words—a finality, a weight—that made even Akur hesitate.

“Speak, Tasqal. You have mere moments.” Akur’s growl held barely contained rage.

“The Restitution has the orb.” The Tasqal rose slowly, methodically adjusting its robes as if the blow had been nothing more than an inconvenience. “And it must be destroyed.”

Constance stepped closer, ignoring Akur’s warning look. “What is this orb? You want us to destroy it?Why?” It sounded like another trap. What if the orb was exactly what the Restitution needed to win this war?

“The orb is a device that can traverse worlds. Galaxies.” The Tasqal’s eyes seemed to expand. “My people plan to take your world. Harvest you…humans. With that device, we can do…anything.”

She couldn’t breathe. The implications hit her one after another—this was how those gator-guards had appeared past the Restitution’s defenses, how they’d caused so much death and destruction without warning. If they could travel to Earth at will…

Her chest constricted as faces flashed through her mind—her family, her friends, her sisters, her nieces, her mother. All the women she knew and loved would be taken to be nothing more than living incubators for these monsters. The pain that lanced through her chest was so real she had to grip the spot over her heart.

She’d rather die right here, right now, if it meant stopping that future.

“That orb will save my people,” the Tasqal said. “For a time.”

Right, until there were no more humans to harvest. Until they needed to find another civilization to destroy.

“There is nosavingyou.” Akur’s deep voice resonated through her bones as he positioned himself at her back like a guard.

For the first time, the Tasqal lowered its head. “You are right. We don’t deserve salvation.”

The admission hung in the air, stilling it.

“What?” Akur’s voice had gone dangerous again, quiet. “Playing games again.”

He must be right.

“Not games, Shum’ai. Not in this.”

For a few moments, the room was silent.

“Explain,” she finally said. “And speak clearly.” With a jerk of her chin, she motioned to Akur. “My friend here isn’t very patient, as you can tell, and even if killing you will cause his death, he doesn’t care.” Akur grunted in affirmation. “And I don’t care about dying either.”

She didn’t care about dying? Fuck. When had she become someone willing to sacrifice everything? Not a martyr—martyrs died for beliefs, for causes. This was different. This was rage and pain forced into purpose. If she could take even one of these monsters down with her, maybe that would mean one less family torn apart, one less world torn apart.

Besides, what did she have left to lose? The Tasqals had already taken everything else—her home, her family, her entire way of life. All that remained was the chance to make them pay, even if it cost her last breath to do it.

That realization shot home something in her, and suddenly she understood him. Akur. Understood his rage and his stubbornness. Understood why he’d willingly sacrifice it all.

She met the Tasqal’s gaze as it lifted its head. “If you think we’re afraid, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Silence again, the air still, and then the Tasqal suddenly threw its head back and laughed, bubbles popping in the air. “It appears your arrival with the Shum’ai was not bad luck after all, human. It appears I might still get what I want out of this.”

She grit her teeth. “And what do you want?”

“Some sins cannot be undone. Some crimes cannot be forgiven.” The Tasqal’s smile faltered. “We have destroyed much. Taken much. Like the Vikteki and the Kyron before us…we have too much power.”

Without warning, the Tasqal began to shift out of its flowing robe.

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