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The security systems were too complex for manual override, and we had neither the time nor resources for a more elegant solution. Ravik’s tail flicked once—a sign of determination I’d learned to recognize.

The small space suddenly felt too intimate, too safe compared to what waited outside. The reality of our situation pressed in again—captives in Hammond’s compound, attempting a nearly impossible escape through hazardous wilderness with an injured woman in tow.

I checked my tools one last time—insulated wire cutters, the modified scanner that could detect the shield’s power fluctuations, a small pry bar for the junction box. Everything we had, we’d scavenged or built ourselves during our captivity.

I ran my fingers over each tool, checking for flaws or weaknesses. An engineer’s habit that had saved my life more than once.

Ravik moved to the ventilation grate, pausing before pulling it open. His ears tilted forward, listening for any movement in the corridor beyond.

“Zara.” He rarely used my name, and the sound of it in his deep voice sent a pool of totally inappropriate heat through my belly. “Stay alive.”

The words carried more weight than their simplicity suggested. I met his gaze and nodded once.

“You too.” I could feel his fierce determination, his protective instinct—emotions too complex for words through our bond.

I let him feel my own resolve in return, the steel in my spine that had kept me going through worse situations than this. We slipped out into the dimly lit corridor, the moment of connection tucked away as we focused on the dangerous task ahead.

The cool recycled air raised goosebumps on my skin where Ravik’s warmth had been minutes earlier. Time to go.

RAVIK

The ruins breathed around me, their ancient systems humming with unstable energy that made my lifelines itch beneath my skin. The sensation was familiar from my training—guardian initiates spent cycles learning to attune to these energies—but this was different.

Hammond’s drilling operation had tapped into power sources never meant to be accessed this way, and the disharmony vibrated through the stone itself. The corridor walls, once smooth and aligned with planetary harmonics, now featured jagged cracks with faint blue energy seeping through.

My clan would call it violation of the sacred. But personal judgment would have to wait.

I moved swiftly through the shadows, my feet silent against the worn stone pathways. Three guards patrolled this section—predictable in their patterns, sloppy in their vigilance.

Humans, not automated sentries. Their boot steps echoed with a distinctive rhythm I had memorized, their breathing heavy from the compound’s thinner air.

The smell of their weapons—metal, oil, ozone from energy charges—reached me before they did, allowing me to slip into recessed doorways as they passed. The bond with Zarathrummed steadily in my mind, a faint awareness of her location and general state.

She was moving into position, her focus sharp as a blade. The intimacy we’d shared had strengthened our connection beyond what I’d thought possible with a human.

I could sense her determination, her analytical mind mapping routes and contingencies. My clan’s warnings about the marked outsider felt distant now, though not entirely forgotten.

The Marked Outsider will bring destruction. Guard against her touch, for it awakens slumbering power.

The ancient warning scrolled through my memory, but it rang hollow against the reality of Zara—practical, fierce, willing to risk everything to save her friend and stop Hammond. I pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand.

My tail swept low for balance as I navigated a narrow maintenance passage, the confined space making my shoulders brush the walls. The drilling operation’s coolant system stood before me, a tangle of salvaged pipes and crude machinery grafted onto ancient technology with no understanding of its true purpose.

The scent of coolant chemicals—sharp, artificial, wrong—burned my nostrils. Drawing closer, I identified the main control junction—a modified console with exposed wiring.

The metal felt wrong under my fingertips—too rough, imprecisely formed compared to the ancients’ work. The tool Zara had fashioned for me was simple but effective: a stripped power cell that would create a feedback loop when connected to the right circuits.

It pulsed warmly in my palm, responding to my lifelines. With a quick glance to ensure no guards were approaching, I slipped forward and removed the access panel.

The interior was a mess of wires and components, some human, some ancient. The contrast was jarring—like seeing sacred scrolls used as kindling.

I located the main coolant regulation circuit and carefully positioned the power cell, my fingers working with practiced precision despite their size compared to the delicate components. A brush of warning tingled through my lifelines, raising the fine hairs at the back of my neck.

My tail stiffened as I sensed a guard approaching—earlier than scheduled. I ducked behind a massive conduit, controlling my breathing as heavy footsteps passed just meters away.

The guard’s scent reached me—sweat, synthetic fabric, the processed food they ate in the compound. “Sector four clear,” the guard’s voice crackled over a comm unit, the electronic distortion grating to my sensitive hearing.

“Moving to check the coolant systems.” I had seconds, not minutes.