Page 65 of Orange Tundra
Nim frowned, scanning the smoking droid fragments. Sim rested a supportive hand on my arm as if sensing my dread. "We might have no choice," Nim said quietly. "Zirc needs us."
Sim helped me settle on a smooth outcropping before speaking. "We slip in by night, minimal force. I'll meet Trill, confirm the route, then get Zirc out."
Roqs narrowed his eyes at Sim when the latter mentioned his mate. "I will go," he simply declared. Nim and Sim exchanged a look but they did not counter Roqs's words.
Coone's ears flattened. "We'll see if Trill proves trustworthy. If not?—"
Roqs's jaw tightened. "I'll kill him."
I tried to calm my racing pulse. Roqs... I wouldn't want to be in his place right now, having to choose between us, Zirc, and his fated mate. Knowing I couldn't join them, I still wanted to be near them just in case. "Set the plan. I can't charge into the pit, but I'll stay near the perimeter to coordinate with Nim and Sim."
All of my mates—yes, I considered Roqs included—wanted to protest. Except for the one mate who always wanted to push me to be the best version of myself.
Coone nodded, casting another worried glance at my belly. "We won't let you or the child get close to that hell-hole."
That single word—child—made my heart clench. "Children," I corrected under my breath. Even I wasn't certain how many, only that there might be more than one, and they grew quickly.
The mercenaries hovered at a discreet distance, still radiating protective awe. They'd act on any command I or my mates gave. This pregnancy had turned me into something revered, a symbol they believed could save their kind.
Nim smoothed a hand across my back, where the ache throbbed. "We'll form multiple teams. Sim, Roqs, and Coone infiltrate. CG's crew, Clitasoxdfwe'h, and I provide cover. Brynn coordinates from the fallback point."
Coone shifted his weight, tail gliding low. "We'll reach Kilo's hideout by dusk. That gives us time to plan, rest, and get you comfortable."
"All right," I said quietly. "Just... bring Zirc back to us. And Roqs's mate."
Roqs squared his shoulders, gaze flicking from my belly to Coone. "No matter what it takes, we save him."
My heart hurt for him. For Roqs's sake, and from what I knew of Scarface, I wouldn't be surprised if Scarface would rather sacrifice himself so that Zirc would live.
Coone gave a curt nod. I sensed their unspoken truce—a fragile alliance born of shared heartbreak and ferocious loyalty. Roqs wanted Trill's redemption, but Zirc's life hung in the balance. They'd stand together.
Nim and Sim began organizing positions with CG's crew, ensuring the mercenaries knew their roles. I watched a few of them exchange awed looks whenever I shifted. Their near-worship was strange, but we needed every hand.
When Roqs glanced back at me, a storm of guilt and need crossed his expression. He stepped nearer. "Brynn... I?—"
"Don't apologize again," I whispered, reading the torment in his eyes. "Zirc and your mate are the priority. We'll deal with the rest once they're safe."
He exhaled. "Then that's what we'll do."
A hush wrapped around the lagoon. Spent shards from the courier droid glinted on wet stone like broken teeth. Clouds drifted overhead, shifting the light until the water took on a faint silver sheen.
Finally, Coone jerked his chin at Roqs. "Come on. Let's see if that infiltration route is workable."
They strode away, tension obvious in their stiff backs. Even so, they were moving in one direction—united for Zirc.
I stared at the glimmering waters, ignoring the tightness in my spine. Our time was short, and the rescue fraught with risks. But the memory of Zirc's warm embrace steadied me. We'd do whatever it took to bring him back. Even if it meant Roqs confronting his mate, or Coone and Roqs guiding us straight into a viper's nest.
No matter the threat, we'd stand as one. If Trill had truly betrayed us, Roqs would make sure he never threatened our family again.
29
BRYNN
The argument started small.A tactical disagreement about approach routes that escalated with each passing minute. But sitting on volcanic stone with my swollen belly making every position uncomfortable, I could smell the real problem underneath the strategic debate.
Fear. Rage. Testosterone and territorial instincts spiraling toward violence.
Whatever truce I'd seen earlier between Coone and Roqs was becoming nonexistent.
