Page 21 of Naga General's Mate

She murmured something in her sleep and pressed closer. Her hand curled into the fabric of his shirt. The innocent gesture nearly undid him. Every protective instinct in his body screamed to never let her go.

The train’s vibrations rumbled through the metal floor. Brivul adjusted his position to better shield her from the cold walls of their hiding spot. She fit so perfectly against him, as if she’d been made to rest in his arms.

His military training kept his senses sharp, monitoring their surroundings even as his thoughts centered on the sleeping woman in his arms. No one would harm her again. He’d kill anyone who tried.

Chapter 10

Mila

Mila’s eyes fluttered open,the gloom of the cargo hold pressing against her senses. The train’s rhythmic clatter had lulled her into an uneasy sleep, but a harsh jolt now woke her with a start. Her body, still nestled against the firm warmth of Brivul, tensed instinctively. She felt the steady thrum of his heartbeat against her ear, a reminder of the sanctuary she had found in his arms—a sanctuary she could scarcely afford to acknowledge right now.

She pulled away from him gently, feeling the cool air rush in to fill the space where their bodies had been entwined. The scent of him—a heady mix of leather and something uniquely him—lingered, making her strangely aware of her own heart’s erratic pace. Flustered, she pushed the thoughts aside. Now was not the time for such distractions.

The cargo hold, dimly lit by the occasional flicker of a faulty light, was a labyrinth of crates and shadows. Mila’s gaze darted around, assessing their surroundings. The train’s constant sway hinted that they were still en route.

Brivul stirred beside her, his violet eyes gleaming in the darkness as he pushed himself up straighter. “We’re not there yet,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm in the uncertain quiet.

Mila nodded, her voice just above a whisper. “I know. Just a bad dream, I guess.” It was a lie, but one she hoped would suffice.

He regarded her for a moment, as if weighing her words against the worry etched in the lines of her face. “You’re safe with me, Mila,” he said, his tone resolute.

She offered him a small, grateful smile, though safety was a commodity she had yet to fully trust.

They fell into a companionable silence as Mila’s mind raced with the enormity of their situation. She was a runaway slave, on the run with a security guard who had thrown away his life for her sake.

The train shuddered again, a metallic groan echoing through the hold. Brivul’s hand found hers in the dark, a silent reassurance. “We’ll make it to the underworld,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.

Mila’s breath caught in her throat. Priscilla. The thought of her sister, still trapped under Kurg’s thumb, was a constant ache in her heart. “And what then?” she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of hope and apprehension.

Brivul hesitated. “We’ll figure it out together,” he said finally, the determination in his voice a steadying force.

Together. The concept was so foreign to Mila, yet attr that moment, it was a lifeline she clung to with desperate hope.

The train lurched to a halt with a screech of metal on metal. Mila’s heart hammered against her ribs as she crept behindBrivul through the shadows of the cargo hold. The acrid stench of fuel and decay wafted through the air. This was definitely the underworld district.

“Stay close to me,” Brivul whispered, his tail sliding silently across the grimy floor.

Mila followed him down a rusty ladder into a maze of narrow alleys. Neon signs cast sickly purple and red glows across the crumbling walls. The few people they passed kept their heads down, their faces hidden beneath hoods and masks. Her skin crawled at the thought of what kind of desperate souls ended up here.

“We need somewhere to hide out,” she murmured, scanning the decrepit buildings. “But I don’t trust any of these places.”

“Agreed. Keep moving.”

They ducked into a wider street lined with vendors hawking questionable wares. The press of bodies made Mila’s chest tighten. Any one of these people could recognize them and report them to Kurg for credits. She instinctively touched the data chip hidden in her pocket—the evidence that had started this whole mess.

A group of drunk Jorvlen stumbled past, forcing Mila to press against a grimy wall. The rough stone scraped her already bruised back, making her bite back a hiss of pain.

“You okay?” Brivul asked, his violet eyes concerned.

“Fine. Just…” She swallowed hard. “What if we can’t find anywhere safe here?”

“We will.” His confidence should have been reassuring. Instead, it made her wonder what he wasn’t telling her.

They turned down another alley, this one eerily quiet compared to the main street. Pools of stagnant water reflected the dim lights above. Mila wrinkled her nose at the musty smell of mold and rot.

“I used to dream about escaping one day,” she whispered. “But not like this. Not running blindly into…” She gestured at their bleak surroundings.

“Sometimes the only way forward is through the dark,” Brivul said, his tone resolute.

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