Page 46 of Fated to the Drakarn Commander (Drakarn Mates 4)

Selene whispered it, the awful truth dawning. "Her sister."

"Ignarathrumors," I finished, ice spreading through my veins. The infirmary. My words. My focus on Khorlar. Driving her away. "She went after her." Goddamn it. "Because you—" Now wasnotthe time for a fight.

"We go. Now." Vega’s hand flashed to the knife at her hip. Primal instinct. "Before the trail vanishes."

"Hold up," I snapped, hands raised. Defensive. Trying to regain control I didn't feel. "We need a fucking plan. Backup." How many times did I have to say this?

Vega’s eyes blazed. "Backup? Your lizard man? The Council scheming to trade us like cattle?"

"We can’t just storm Ignarath territory!" The words ripped out, raw with frustration and fear. "Not after that scout nearly gutted me!"

"While we debate strategy, Kira’s out there!" Vega shot back, desperation cracking her voice. "Captured. Or worse."

"Or dead," Lexa added, her voice flat. Brutal truth.

Silence fell again, thick with unspoken fears.

"Tell Darrokar," Selene urged, her calm a frayed lifeline in the rising panic. "Khorlar. Vyne. Rath. All of them. They're on our side. They know the terrain?—"

"There's no time!" Vega slashed the air with her hand. "And no guarantee they’d help. Not with politics poisoning everything."

She wasn’t necessarily wrong. The fractures in the Council. The Temple pressure. Khorlar … compromised. Because of me.

But four of us were mated to Drakarn now. That had to count for something. They wouldn't just abandon us.

My hand scrubbed down my face, grit stinging my eyes. Duty. Loyalty. Responsibility. A crushing weight, stealing the air from my lungs.

"You need gear," I forced out, the word tasting like ash. Hating the compromise. Hating myself. "Scoutonly. Find her trail. That’s it. No engagement. Then you report back." If we had actionable intel, someone would help. I had to believe that.

Relief flooded Vega’s face. Too fast. Too absolute. "Thank you."

"Any trouble," I warned, pinning her with my gaze, "any hint—you come straight back. We get Khorlar. Darrokar. Whatever it takes."

"Agreed." I didn't believe her. And a big part of me thought I should go with her. Selene was looking worried, and no doubt word of this would get to the Drakarn soon enough.

"Rations," Lexa said, already moving. "Water."

Twenty minutes felt like an hour etched in stone. Vega was in light armor salvaged from the crash. She had a knife, enough water for a day, and as much information as we could give her.

This was a huge mistake.

Still, I led the way to one of the easier to access exits.

The lower corridors descended into deeper shadow. Heat crystals were sparse there, leaving stretches of near-total blackness between pools of sullen light. Our boots echoed, too loud in the quiet. The stone walls felt rough, damp under my questing fingers. Vega moved with tense certainty, weaving through the passages like she owned them. She knew these ways. Too well.

"You’ve been down here before," I accused, voice low.

She didn’t look back. "I've done some contingency planning." Her silhouette was rigid in the gloom ahead.

"For you and Kira doing something stupid?"

A humorless twist of her lips was barely visible. "Or you."

The passage narrowed again, the ceiling pressing down, stealing air. Breathing felt tight. We moved by touch, fingers scraping rough-hewn stone. I wanted to find this exit and watch her go, assure myself that at least the first part of this harebrained scheme would work.

Then I was running back and telling Khorlar everything. Vega would hate me for it, but I couldn't see another way.

A shift in the shadows ahead. It was larger than human. Dense. Solid.

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