Page 32 of Fated to the Dragon Alien

Not now. Not ever.

NINE

Cerani

Cerani clung to Stavian’s shoulders as he carried her through the rubble-strewn tunnel. His powerful body moved with confidence. Each step was purposeful and steady, even though chaos surrounded them. Dust clung to the air as he navigated them through the debris. Sounds of alarms and cries for help echoed around them, and she felt every beat of her heart, frantic and loud beneath the burn of fear.

“Keep holding on. I’ve got you,” he murmured. His breath was a warm vibration against her arms.

She closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Her mind kept drifting back to Sema, lying helpless, every breath a struggle. They’d done what they could, but it barely felt like enough. The sight of her friend, so fragile and broken, made her stomach twist.

“Will the medics help them, or…?” she asked, afraid to finish the question.

Stavian’s grip on her tightened. “We’re almost there. Medics will take care of the injured.”

That didn’t reassure her, and he knew what she was really asking. But there was nothing she could do but hold on and hope. With Stavian’s powerful strides, they quickly reached an open area where surgical lights blinked and the smell of antiseptic soured the air. Hovering stretchers were already moving out with the medics—there were too few medics to see to everyone quickly.

Stavian reached the closest available hover stretcher and gently placed Sema down. The stretcher’s gel surface formed partially around her, lights blinking in response to the injuries its sensors detected. A wave of relief hit Cerani as she saw a medic hurry toward them, ready to handle the situation.

But as soon as Sema was in the hands of the medic, he lowered himself and untangled her arms from around his neck. “Hold yourself up on your good leg for just a moment,” he murmured.

She did so, and instantly, he turned around and scooped her up into his arms. The world shifted as he held her as carefully as he had Sema, strong and sure. He began walking toward the back of the med lab, toward a wall covered in doors. She’d been here once, during intake, and had found all those doors ominous. What were they? Cells? The morgue?

“Where are you taking me?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“To a treatment room. I will see to your leg myself.” His expression was serious, focused, and Cerani felt warmth spread through her, even though she was scared. Even though her leg hurt and the world was literally crumbling around her.

She closed her eyes, leaning against him without reservation. The chaos faded as she let herself be wrapped in his strength. Her heart ached for all she’d faced. The pain of not knowing what would happen next, the uncertainty—she didn’t want tothink about it now. She just wanted to feel safe, even for a moment.

The further they moved through the lab, the quieter everything became. The alarms were still there, faint behind the reinforced panel walls, but the crash of rocks and shouting had faded. The lights shifted to a sterile white glow. Not the inconsistent burn of the mining levels—this was cleaner, colder. Cerani barely noticed the pain in her leg anymore. Not because it wasn’t there but because she was holding on to the one solid thing left: Stavian.

She felt his chest rise and fall against her shoulder. Felt the steady rhythm of his steps underneath the haze in her mind. Maybe it had only been minutes. It felt like longer. She kept her eyes closed.

He finally stopped.

There was a soft shhhhk as a door slid open. The smell hit her first—sharp disinfectant and warm crystal foam, like the recycled med gel beds the miners weren’t allowed to use. He carried her inside.

“You can set me down,” she started to say, but he didn’t.

Instead, he walked straight to the narrow med bed in the center of the small chamber. He lowered her to the bed and the cool gel dipped under her weight. She sank halfway in with a quiet sigh. The surface gave just enough to cradle her limbs, but it was thick enough that she didn’t sink so far as to feel like she was being swallowed whole.

Stavian stepped away to the control wall, his hands working fast across the screen mounted beside her. A quiet stream of alerts beeped from the panel.

She blinked up at the ceiling, trying to force her breath steady. She hadn’t let herself feel it earlier—but it was there now. Her leg throbbed in waves. Her hands stung where she’d cutthem on rocks. Her entire body ached like it had just given away too much at once.

She turned her head. “Is it bad?”

He looked at the screen, quiet for a beat. Then, “You have a fracture above your ankle and another mid-shin. One looks clean. The other…not.”

“Oh,” she said.

“We need to get the bones set and sealed now.”

She looked down. Other beings’ blood had turned her white under-suit red, green, and black. Her EP suit still hung at her hips where she’d pushed it down. The material and her boot hid the damage, but there was no denying that there was a mess under there. “It didn’t feel like that when I was moving,” she said, frowning. “It just burned.”

“Your pain receptors were in shock,” he said. “You were too busy helping others to notice your own injuries.”

She laid her head back. Her arms were heavy now. Too heavy to lift. The gel bed soothed the ache behind her ribs, but her throat still felt dry. Her fingers burned from ripping her own clothing and pushing away rubble.

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