Page 31 of Ulfar

“You and I, we’re soldiers. Always have been, always will be. That’s what we were trained for. And that’s still how our brain operates, even now. So look at it like a war campaign. Look at the lay of the land, as it were. Check your resources, do the necessary recon. Come up with strategies to achieve your objective, and of course, counter measures in the inevitable case that something goes awry.”

I nod, furrowing my brow in thought. It makes sense on the surface, but it’s always easier said than done.

“And Ulfar?” he pipes up once more. “Even if you do all that, you have to be prepared for the reality that she may not feel the same. She may not choose you, no matter what you do.” Orri’s throat bobs with emotion. “So understand that even the most well-planned campaign can have casualties.”

It’s a hard truth and sits heavy in my stomach, but that’s why Orri and I are friends. We’ve been there for each other through thick and thin, and he knows how to give it to me straight, even if it’s not what I want to hear.

So I lean back, mull over Orri’s suggestions, and try to come up with a plan. I’m just getting up to leave when I feel Orri’s hand on my chest.

“Hey. Don’t overdo it trying to rush back there tonight. You’ll be much clearer-headed in the morning, and it will be better for the both of you, believe me.”

“But she needs to—” He doesn’t understand. This urgency, this pull to be with my heart-mate, threatens to drown out all logic. If I can’t be with her, if I can’t find a way to make this right, I don’t know what I’ll do. And now that I have at least some semblance of a plan, I can’t wait around any longer. I have to take action.

Orri cuts me off, his stern expression one I’ve only seen on the battlefield. “She needs her sleep, and so do you. Stay here tonight. Go to her in the morning.”

I huff out a breath. The spinning in my brain slows, but only slightly. I grumble, looking up at him. “Is that an order?”

He gives me a sad smile and shakes his head. “It’s my recommendation, as your friend. Stay here tonight and get some rest. I’ll even make breakfast in the morning.”

I want to fight him on this, but I’m losing energy despite my anxiety to be with her as soon as possible. I’ve been traveling for nearly twenty-four hours straight. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to take a quick nap.

“Fine,” I say at last, pulling a fur off the couch and draping it over myself. “But I want those crispy skins you used to make for us when we were on patrol.”

He huffs out an amused breath and turns for the hallway. “I’ll see what I can wrangle up. Good night, my friend.”

“Good night, Orri. Thank you for talking some sense into me.”

“Any time. Good night.”

And with that, he clicks off the lights, leaving only the stars to watch over me.

In the morning, I repeat in my mind before sleep takes me.Wait for me, Sarah. I’m coming.

ALL ALONE

SARAH

Iwake, groggy and disoriented, to the sound of sirens. On instinct, I call out Ulfar’s name. And that’s when the grim reality sets in.

He’s not here anymore. I left him. And now I’m a pregnant stowaway on a ship to the nearest space station, where I’ll willingly turn myself over to the most ruthless gang in the galaxy.

The sirens get louder, and I struggle to my feet. I can’t see much from inside the small shipping container, and I try to peer through the small opening to no avail. My heart leaps into my throat, pounding furiously with every ear-splitting bleat of the alarm. I’ve got to get out of here!

I clamber around in the darkness, groping the walls in an attempt to find an escape latch. With a blinding suddenness, light fills the cargo hold at the same time an automated voice broadcasts over the speaker system.

Attention, all personnel: please evacuate all passengers to the cargo bay immediately. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.

The cargo hold. Oh god! That means they’re coming here! I beat at the walls ever more desperately, squinting against the sudden light. At last I find a mechanical lever that locks the container from the inside. Grunting, I throw all my weight behind it, wincing as the squeal of metal assaults my eardrums. With a final cry, the latch comes free and I shove open the door just far enough to squeeze myself out.

Just in time for the cabin to fill with dozens of terrified passengers. I try to act natural and mingle among them. No one will care about a stowaway while the ship is under attack, but I don’t want to take my chances.

A thunderous boom rocks the ship, knocking over everything that isn’t tied down. Including us. I fall to the ground and my knee clangs against the hard metal floor. I cry out, pain shooting up my leg, but I’m far from the only one struggling. The entire cargo bay’s transformed into a swelling, undulating mass of panicked passengers. More and more people fill the hold. Running, panting, screaming.

It’s pandemonium, and I know deep in my gut the reason.

They’re here.

“Stay away from the doors!” yells one of the ship’s crew, bracing the exits with humming vibro-shields. Everyone packs in even tighter, making it harder to move or even breathe. Another jolt crashes into the ship, the alarms blaring even louder.

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