Page 10 of Fifth
He crouched, tracing the seam with the blunt knife tip. The ground split, revealing a shallow pit, jagged stakes driven upright. He lifted his head and met her eyes. “Good.”
Her breath trembled out. Aflicker of pride straightened her shoulders.
They wove deeper into the field, pausing often. Once, he triggered a trap with a tossed stone. Ahuge spiked log slammed across their path with violence. The impact shattered trees at the edge of the trail. The blast of motion scarred the ground, splinters jutting like spears.
He watched the destruction and understood this was no test of speed alone, but a gauntlet meant to drive them toward another gate. He narrowed his eyes, already measuring the unseen route, already calculating where the next gate might lie hidden. He analyzed what worsening traps must protect thatgate.
Hannah stiffened beside him, her breath sharp, but he kept his focus on the path ahead. He took another step, then froze. She stumbled into him, her hand flattening against his bare chest. The muscle under her palm was unyielding, heat sparking through him like tinder catching flame.
Her breath stuttered, defiance and fear warring in her eyes. She pulled back quickly, cheeks flushed, but he registered more than embarrassment—he recognized awareness, sharp and new. His expression didn’t change, but his grip firmed, steady as iron, asilent vow that he would never let her fall, no matter how far the traps tried to dragthem.
Hours passed under the beating sun. At last Locus realized the ground ahead didn’t align with a hidden gate. They had been moving the wrong way. When he shifted to turn them back, afresh line of traps waited, wires strung like snares, pits gaping between them, blocking the straight path. He studied the pattern, and drew Hannah with him as he traced their way back. Each avoided trap had been reset, ready to bite again. The preserve wasn’t meant to be crossed easily. It was meant to bleed strength, energy, and hopeaway.
Sweat slicked her temples, streaking dirt across her face. Locus rationed the canteen, tilting it to her lips before taking any himself. “Drink.”
“You first.”
He held it steady. “Partnership. You drink.”
She stared at him a moment before obeying. Then, impulsively, tipped it back to his mouth, letting the water touch his lips from her hand. The contact was intimate, charged. His fingers closed over her wrist, steady but gentle. She snatched her hand back, breath quick.
Before long the terrain shifted again, narrowing into a scarred expanse where the earth looked deceptively smooth. It carried a different menace than the snares behind them, quieter but heavier, asilence that warned of depth beneath the crust.
He suspected he knew what that meant. And sure enough, the pits came next, wide mouths covered by false crusts of earth. Locus tied a rock to the length of twine and used it to strike the earth, probing, listening to the tone of each strike. Solid ground thudded. Hollow crust rang false. He taught her the difference, made her strike once herself until she nodded in grim comprehension.
When the crust collapsed beneath her foot, he caught her with a force that wrenched her against him. Her breath burst out, her face pressed to his shoulder. The darkness beneath gaped, spiked and merciless.
She clutched at his arms, shaking. “If you drop me—”
“I do not drop what is mine.” His voice was low, certain. Their eyes locked, heat flaring between fear and something neither could name. He pulled her up, setting her back on solid earth. He didn’t release her hand after.
By dusk, they reached a narrow ridge between pits. It was the only defensible ground. Locus drew her close, arranging her against him, her back to his chest, his arms locking around her as night fell. She resisted for a breath, then yielded, too tired to pretend she didn’t need the warmth or the sleep. His heartbeat remained steady against her spine, each thud a vow she didn’t ask for but couldn’t ignore.
The air cooled. Crickets chirped. And then, faint clicks rattled the ground. Wires tightening. Springs rearming.
Locus bent his head, his voice quiet against her hair. “Do not move. Night has its own teeth.”
Above them a faint buzz rose, different from the insects in the grass. Locus lifted his head, eyes narrowing. Adrone, small and silver, hovered into view, ared light winking from its lens. Its speakers crackled.
“Entertainment for the crowd,” the voice taunted, amplified and mocking. “Give us something sweet, and we will clear the closest traps for you. Akiss, alien. Show us you want your female.”
Hannah stiffened, her back pressed against his chest, atremor running through her. “They’re watching?” she whispered.
“Affirmative.” His eyes narrowed. “They bait us.”
The drone drifted lower, its camera trained on their faces, the glow of its lens like a hungry eye. Locus’s arm remained locked around her waist, his heat surrounding her. He could smell her pulse, quick and sharp, the mix of fear and something more elusive, more dangerous.
“They want us to kiss,” she said, her tone tight with disbelief, as if saying it aloud might break the spell.
He didn’t answer at once. His hand shifted against her hip, securing her. “If it gives us advantage, we take it.”
Her breath hitched. She twisted just enough to see his face in the fading light. The lines of him were stark, carved from discipline, but his eyes burned, adeep amethyst fire that pinned her in place. The air between them throbbed with awareness.
“You would do it? Here, for them?” Her voice was low, daring him to admit the truth.
“For us,” he corrected. “For survival. But not only that.”
Her lips parted, asharp inhale breaking the tension. He saw the spark of resistance still alive in her, yet it faltered under the power of his gaze. His breath slipped across her cheek, and he watched the distance shrink to nothing, certain she would allow the embrace.
