Page 89 of Akur

For the first time in his existence, he didn’t want to die. Not while she still breathed.

The lift hummed as it carried them upward, each click stretching into eternity.

“Almost there,” Constance whispered, her grip on him tightening. He could feel her trembling with the effort of holding him up, but her voice remained steady. Strong. Like she always was.

The lift slowed, then stopped. The doors opened onto a vast chamber that made Kon-stahn inhale. The landing bay stretched before them, a massive space too big for what it was used for. Ships of various sizes dotted the space—some sleek and brand new, a few captured rebel craft, and…

“There.” The Tasqal pointed to a small shuttle near the far wall. “That one is prepared for you.”

Akur studied the vessel through blurring vision. A C-class transport—old, but reliable. Fast enough to break atmosphere, small enough to slip past orbital defenses. If they could reach it.

They stepped out of the lift, each movement igniting fresh waves of agony. Eyes focused on the transport, he still didn’t miss the slight gasp that came from Kon-stahns’ lips as she looked behind them and saw the pool of lifeblood he’d left behind. Too much. He was running out of time.

“I’ve input all necessary codes,” the Tasqal said as they made their slow way across the bay. “Forget about my original plan. This ship will take you to Hudo III. You will be safe there. It is beyond Tasqal space.” Then he looked up from under the hood of his robe. “And you find that orb. And you destroy it. By any means necessary.”

They were halfway to the ship when Akur’s legs buckled. He caught himself against a support pillar, breath coming in ragged gasps. Kon-stahns’ small hands pressed against his chest, trying to steady him.

“Just a little further,” she pleaded. “Please, Akur. Don’t you dare leave me now. We’re so close.”

He forced himself upright, leaning heavily on her. One step. Another. The ship grew closer, its promise of freedom almost tangible now.

“Thank you,” Kon-stahns said to the Tasqal. “For everything.”

She was thanking the fiend when it was his kind that put them in this situation in the first place. His mortal enemies.

Akur’s jaw clenched, decades of hatred and suspicion warring with the undeniable truth before him—this enemy had risked everything to help them escape. The same race that had imprisoned him, tortured him, was now offering salvation. His pride demanded rejection, but Kon-stahns’ warmth against his side grounded him in the present moment.

Looking at the hooded Tasqal, he forced his throat to work. “You…” The word came out rough, guttural. Every instinct screamed against what he was about to say. “You have done us a service this day.” Each word felt like he was being forced to swallow his own intestines.

The Tasqal tilted his head, perhaps sensing the monumental effort behind that simple acknowledgment.

“My people…the Shum’ai…” Akur continued, his good hand tightening into a fist. “They would call me a traitor for this. But honor demands…” He drew in a ragged breath. “I owe you a debt.”

Kon-stahns’ hold on him tightened, almost as if she was supporting him emotionally, too. As if she understood what this admission cost him—generations of hatred, the weight of his people’s suffering, all things he’d had to set aside.

“Save your strength, Shum’ai,” the Tasqal said. “You will need it for what lies ahead.”

Akur gave a slight nod, relief and shame mingling in his chest. The galaxy, it seemed, was not as black and white as he’d believed. Even as his body failed him, this realization shook the foundations of everything,everythinghe’d known.

They were almost at the ship’s boarding ramp when the massive lift doors exploded inward.

Hedgeruds. They poured through the breach like a flood of pestilence, and behind them, the lumbering forms of several High Tasqals.

Qrak.

He should have known this wasn’t going to be easy.

“Traitor!” The lead Tasqal’s voice rang out across the bay. “You dare betray your own kind?”

Here it was. The moment this wretched Tasqal would turn on them.

Again, he was wrong.

“Run!” their ally shouted. “Get to the ship!”

Blaster fire filled the air. The Tasqal who had helped them went down immediately, his pained cry hitting something within Akur that shouldn’t be possible. Regret? Care?

Time stopped for a split click as dark blood spread beneath the Tasqal’s robes.

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