Page 16 of Naga General's Mate

Brivul’s mind was already sifting through potential contacts, old war buddies who had fallen from grace and slipped into the criminal world. “We’ll need to be cautious. Trust doesn’t come easily in the underworld.”

Mila nodded, her fingers gently squeezing his arm. “I trust you, Brivul. You’ve already risked everything for me.”

Her trust was a precious gift, one he intended to honor. “I will navigate the labyrinth of the underworld with you, Mila. We will find our way.”

They fell into a tense silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Brivul’s gaze swept over the desolate surroundings, the echoing whispers of the forgotten warehouse pressing in on them. He felt the pulse of the city, a monster lurking in the darkness, waiting to devour them. But he would not let it claim his mate.

“We should move soon,” Mila said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Kurg’s men won’t give up easily.”

Brivul straightened to his full height, the coil of his tail steadying him against the cold concrete. “I’ll scout ahead, make sure the path is clear,” he said, his warrior instincts surging to the forefront.

Mila’s eyes held a gratitude that warmed him, a silent acknowledgment of the role he had chosen for himself—her protector, her shield against the darkness.

“Wait here,” he instructed. He moved to the entrance of the warehouse, peering into the shadow-drenched alleyways. The night was alive with danger, but he would face it head-on for her.

Brivul felt the weight of his decision settle upon his shoulders. He had abandoned his post, broken his vow, all for the woman who had ignited a fire within him. That fire would light their way through the darkness, a beacon of hope in a world that seemed determined to extinguish it.

Chapter 8

Mila

Mila’s heart thrummed inher chest. She sat huddled in the shadows of the abandoned warehouse, the cold of the concrete seeping through her thin dress and chilling her to the bone. Her eyes darted to the entrance every time the wind whistled through the broken windows, half-expecting Kurg’s guards to materialize from the darkness.

The warehouse was filled with rusted machinery and splintered crates, a relic of Jorvla’s thriving past, now a hollow shell. This place of hiding provided a temporary refuge from the dangers that lurked beyond its walls. Mila wrapped her arms around herself, trying to contain the shiver that ran down her spine. The pain from her wounds served as a constant reminder of Kurg’s fury that had been unleashed upon her for daring to dream of freedom.

Yet here she was, free, thanks to the Niri who had charged into her life like a warrior from the old tales. Brivul. The name rolled around in her mind, as foreign and thrilling as the concept of freedom itself. She had seen the protective fire in his violet eyes, felt the commanding strength in his voice as he stood up to Kurg. His strength promised safety.

But at what cost? Her sister, Priscilla, was still trapped within the confines of Kurg’s stronghold. The thought of her sister’s delicate face contorting in fear, the sound of her name being called out in the dead of night, was a blade twisting in Mila’s heart. She had sworn to protect Priscilla, to keep her from harm’s way. Now she was miles away, and the weight of her absence was a heavy one.

Mila’s mind raced with the events that had led her here. The encounter with Brivul at the market, his unexpected chivalry, and the spark of connection that had ignited between them—it all seemed like a strange twist of fate. Of all the places he could have worked, why the surrogacy clinic? Had destiny entwined their paths not once but twice?

She let out a long, slow breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts and emotions that raged within her. The silence of the warehouse was broken only by the distant hum of Jorvla’s nightlife.

The sound of someone approaching pulled Mila from her thoughts. She tensed, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. But then she saw him—the blue scales of Brivul glinting in the faint light that filtered through the grime-covered windows. His towering form was a reassuring presence, and the worry lines that creased his brow eased slightly as his eyes met hers.

“It’s clear,” Brivul said, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within her. “For now.”

Mila let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging as the tension melted away.

Mila and Brivul soon slipped out of the abandoned warehouse and set out for the train that would take them to the district where the underworld was.

“We should take the maintenance tunnels,” Mila whispered, her ribs protesting as she crouched behind a stack of empty crates. “Fewer guards down there.”

“The tunnels are a death trap. One way in, one way out.” Brivul peered around the corner of the warehouse. “The rooftops give us more escape routes.”

“And make us visible to every guard tower in the district.”

Brivul’s jaw clenched. The scar there caught the dim light from the street lamps. Mila pressed her palm against her side, willing the throbbing to subside. Her dress stuck to her skin where Kurg had drawn blood.

“The market district has plenty of cover,” Brivul said. “If we time it right—”

“The market’s crawling with Kurg’s informants.” Mila knew every face that reported back to her former master. “But there’s a service entrance to the tunnels two blocks from here. The lock’s broken.”

His tail coiled tight. “How do you know that?”

“I make deliveries there. Made.” The word tasted strange on her tongue. Freedom was still too new, too fragile to feel real.

His eyes softened. “The tunnels it is then. But we do this my way. I take points. You stay close.”

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