Page 63 of Third

Still, heran.

Too far. Toolate.

She dodged left, fast, ducking under a sweeping arm. The slope gave under her boots, and she stumbled. The creature struck.

Her scream pierced the air as claws sliced across her upper thigh. She collapsed, clutching the wound.

Tor’Vek bellowed. It tore out of his chest raw and unrestrained—asound born not just of fury, but fear. The sight of her blood, her scream, the split-second where she dropped and he could not reach her—it fractured something insidehim.

He closed the distance in a blur, ramming his shoulder into the creature with enough force to send them both tumbling. He rolled, came up over it, and drove the blade into its neck again and again until it stopped moving.

Silencefell.

But only for a breath.

A fourth creature lunged from the shadows to his right—larger than the others, with a scar across its jaw and a predatory focus in its eyes. Tor’Vek spun, blade coming up. They clashed hard, metal against bone, claws against skin. He grunted as it drove him backward, strength near equal to his own. But he was faster. Smarter.

He ducked a swing, jammed his elbow into its throat, and slashed across its chest. It reeled—but not before landing a blow that knocked him off balance, skidding across the rocky slope.

The creature came afterhim.

Tor’Vek rolled, came to his feet, and drove his blade up through the beast’s jaw as it leapt. Its weight crashed into him, but it was already dead by the time they hit the ground.

Breathing hard, Tor’Vek shoved the body aside and turned, blood pounding in hisears.

Anya.

She was on her side, propped on one elbow, her other hand pressed hard to the wound. Blood seeped through her fingers, dark andwet.

“Let me see,” he said, dropping besideher.

She shook her head. “It’s not thatbad.”

“Do not lie tome.”

He peeled her hand away. The gash was long. Deep. Already swelling, the edges of the wound red and angry. It was worse than she’d admitted—worse than he’d feared. He yanked the meddisc from his satchel, thumbing the activator.

It glowed. Dimly.

He swore. It pulsed slower than before. The power cell was weakening.

He pressed it to her skin anyway. The disc hissed and sealed the wound, but only partially. The last pulse flickered, the glow nearly extinguished.

He held it up. The readout flashed orange. One, maybe two usesleft.

Anya watched him, lips tight. Her face had gone pale, eyes glassy with pain, but she didn’t complain. She hadn’t made a sound since the scream—and that scared him more than any wound.

He settled on his knees beside her and took her hand again. Her skin was slick with sweat, her pulse erratic under his fingertips.

“Breathe,” he said quietly. “Just breathe.”

She nodded, even as a tear slipped down her cheek.

Tor’Vek touched the meddisc to her thigh again to finish the job. The seal wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. The worst was closed. Infection averted. But the weakness of the tool rattled him more than he wanted to admit.

“We have to be careful,” she whispered.

“Yes.Very.”

---