Page 103 of The Alien Warrior's Vow

Tanek lowered the weapon as Lans’s world tilted toward the darkness.

“Lans!” Eema screamed. “Lans!”

His arms trembling and pain clanging through his head, he put one palm on the floor. Then another. He tried to raise himself up but Tanek slammed him back down.

“Do not fight me anymore, comrade,” Tanek said. “Do not blind yourself to the truth. What we are doing is right. What we are doing is just. What we are doing will protect us all.”

“How can you justify the killing of the innocent?” Lans spit out, his nostrils flaring and his body burning with fury.

“You would rather we all perish to save another species?”

“They are females.”

“They are cursed,” Tanek spit. “Heronas kidnappings increased. The Ungazi have raided our land. Our fathers…” He shook his head, a vein in his neck popping out. “Our mothers. They all died because ofthem.”

Lans kept his eyes on Eema. She stood in the warrior’s grip, her head high even as tears streamed down her face. She looked especially small and fragile. And it reminded him of the night when he rescued her from the beluda.

So much defiance.

So much fire.

There was as much anger as there was terror in her eyes.

“We must turn them over to the Ungazi,” Tanek said, glancing at Korben, Pin, Zar and the others who were being subdued. “We are saving your lives as well.” Tanek flicked his fingers. “Take them.”

The warrior holding Sah-ah pushed her forward.

Korben roared. “Let her go!” The terros flapped his arms and struggled to no avail.

Zar’s voice, raw with fury and despair, rose next. “Si-Moon!”

“Zar!” She screamed. “Please!”

“Go!” Tanek said.

Lans’s eyes met Eema’s. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

The warrior holding the gun on his mate froze suddenly, his eyes fastening to something in the distance.

Tanek shrieked. “What are you waiting for? Take them to the Ungazi!”

A low rumble swept through the army.

Warriors shuffled.

Armor clanked.

Whispers spread like an acid storm.

Lans twisted his head as much as he could. What he saw made his jaw slacken. The Healer stood atop a rock where the warriors had dragged and chained him. He had broken the chains clear off the rock. The links were snapped in half and hung limply like dying string.

The Healer’s blue lips flattened into a firm line and his eyes sliced through every Plutonian before him.

In his large hand, he held a blade pressed to his throat.

Thirty

Lans