Page 84 of Third

Tor’Vek moved like a storm—precise and merciless, drawing the guards’ focus with a fury that tore through the first one instantly. As he struck, Anya circled wide, flanking the second. One blow caved in the first guard’s helmet, the crunch of bone unmistakable. The second soldier lunged for a blade, but never made it. Anya was faster, instincts razor-sharp. She snatched the first guard’s discarded blaster from the floor and drove its stock upward into the soft joint beneath the second guard’s helmet. The impact cracked like a snapped branch. He dropped without a sound.

The silence after was worse.

Not peace. Not relief. Just the echo of brutality.

The guards lay sprawled where they’d fallen, their gear still clattering faintly as it settled. The air was thick with the scent of singed circuitry and scorched metal. Overhead, the corridor’s lights flickered and buzzed, casting fractured shadows across the walls. Anya’s pulse hammered in her ears, louder than the silence, louder than the bond itself. They had survived the ambush—but barely. And what waited beyond would be worse.

Their breathing turned ragged. The bond pulsed hard—untempered, primal. Every time she got close enough to see the tightness in Tor’Vek’s jaw, the set of his shoulders, her body responded without permission. Heat coiled low, tangled up in adrenaline and craving.

He felt it too. She knew hedid.

But neither of them gavein.

“Efficient,” he said, voice low, unreadable.

“Necessary,” she muttered, adjusting her grip on the blaster. “I’ll take the next two.”

“You will take what I allow,” hesaid.

She gave him a look. “Then allow me to save your ass again.”

His mouth twitched—close to a snarl or a smile. Maybeboth.

Another hallway. Another door. Each step closer. Each breath heavier.

Then came the flood.

Anya’s breath caught. For a second, she froze—struck by the sheer number of soldiers pouring toward them. It was too many. Too fast. Her fingers clenched tighter around the blaster as the first shout echoed down the corridor.

Guards poured in—more augmented soldiers, all armored and fast, their movements sharp and synchronized. They surged from side corridors and hidden doors, cut off the retreat, turned every meter forward into a battleground.

Tor’Vek went lethal. Blades sliced, fists crushed, every movement precise and brutal. Anya stayed at his back, covering him with the stolen blaster until the charge flickered red. Then she switched to hand-to-hand, yanking a shock baton from one attacker and driving it into another’s spine.

Blood sprayed. Sparks flew. The air filled with the raw, electric stench of burning flesh and scorched tech. She didn’t have time to think. Only to move—to duck, strike, grab a dropped weapon, fire, twist. The bond between them surged with adrenaline and fury, keeping them linked, balanced, alive.

She lost count of how many they killed. They just kept coming.

A burst of fire singed her shoulder. Tor’Vek ripped the shooter in half. Another guard almost got close enough to grab her—until she drove her knee into his throat and finished him with his own blade.

They backed into an archway, breath ragged, backs pressed together. For one terrible second, it felt like the tide might finally overwhelmthem.

Then the last soldierfell.

Silence returned—shaky, stained, brutal.

Anya staggered back against the archway, panting, and yanked up her arm. The bracelet glowed faintly, its surface still crawling with slow-moving runes.

“It’s barely moved,” she gasped. “After all ofthat?”

Tor’Vek glanced at his own, fury flashing in his eyes. “It should have accelerated.”

“It should have burned itself out,” she muttered, almost in disbelief.

The implication hit both of them atonce.

The bracelets weren’t measuring violence.

Anya let out a shaken breath. “Then what the hellarethey measuring?” They weren’t responding to survival. They were tracking something else entirely—something neither of them fully understood yet. And whatever it was, they had barely begun to give it what it craved.

---