Page 9 of Alien Devil’s Wrath (Vinduthi Stolen Brides #2)

T he ridge gave us a clear view of the valley below, and what I saw there made every muscle in my body go rigid.

Black banners snapped in the wind above a fortified compound, the fabric bearing the insignia I’d hoped never to see again. A stylized skull wreathed in barbed wire. The mark of my old mercenary unit. Slade’s unit.

The compound sprawled across the valley floor, a fortress of dark stone and metal that served as the prison’s administrative heart.

Guard towers rose at regular intervals, their searchlights sweeping the perimeter in lazy arcs.

Beyond the walls stretched communications arrays, transport pads, and the central command structure where Slade ruled his domain.

This was where he’d built his power. The nerve center of a prison planet where he could play warden and king.

My hands clenched into fists. Every detail of that insignia was burned into my memory. The exact curve of the skull’s jaw, the number of barbs in the wire, the way it had looked painted on the side of our transport ship before everything went to hell.

The shield generators were visible from here, massive towers at each corner of the compound, their energy fields creating the barrier I’d punched through on entry.

Eight seconds. That’s all Kallum had managed to give me.

To leave this rock, I’d need those shields down completely.

Which meant coming back here, whether I wanted to or not.

“Problem?” Bronwen asked, watching my face.

“The compound.” The name tasted like ash in my mouth. “It’s in our way.”

She peered down at the fortress, then back at me. “So what’s actually out there? You pointed northeast when we started, but you never said what you’re looking for.”

I’d kept the details to myself since we met, giving her only direction and distance. But standing here, staring at the banners of my past, the truth felt inevitable.

“There’s a crash site beyond those walls. A ship went down in the wasteland beyond the valley’s basin.” I kept my voice level, controlled. “Something I need is inside.”

“What kind of something?”

“Something that belongs to me.”

She waited, clearly expecting more, but I didn’t elaborate. The Regalia and everything it represented wasn’t her concern.

She studied the compound, her head moving as she tracked different features.

“I mapped every approach to this place years ago, always planning for contingencies. See that section where the fence crosses the ravine?” She pointed to where the perimeter tried to span a natural gap in the terrain.

“They had to stretch the sensor grid there. Too much wildlife jumping the ravine sets off false alarms, so they probably loosened the sensitivity. I’ve watched three different creatures cross there without triggering anything. ”

I filed the information away. If I had to breach those walls, when I had to breach them, that weakness could be useful.

“The guards rotate every six hours,” she continued, warming to her subject. “But during shift change, there’s about twelve minutes where the coverage gets thin. They’re sloppy about it because they think nobody’s stupid enough to attack this place.”

“You’ve been watching them.”

“I watch everything that might kill me or be useful.” She grinned. “After five years, you learn to appreciate both categories.”

We picked our way down the ridge, staying well clear of the patrol routes carved into the surrounding hills. As we walked, the silence between us grew heavy. Bronwen kept glancing at me, clearly waiting for more information.

“The man who runs this place,” I said finally. “His name is Joric Slade.”

She looked up from the path, her features sharpening. “Someone you know?”

“Someone I knew.” The words tasted bitter. “We served together. He was my commanding officer.”

“Was?”

“Until he left me and my squad to die.”

The memory rose unbidden. The ambush, the screaming, the way Slade’s face had looked when he’d ordered the retreat without us. The satisfaction in his pale eyes as he’d watched us fall.

“What did you do to deserve that?”

The question caught me off guard. Not why did he betray you, or how could he abandon his men. Just what did you do.

As if she understood instinctively that betrayal was usually personal.

“I questioned his methods. Called him out for targeting civilians.” I kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering across the path. “He didn’t appreciate the criticism.”

She moved closer, studying my expression. “A principled warrior. How inconvenient for him.” Her hand drummed against her thigh as she processed this information. “No wonder you ended up here. The universe does love its little jokes.”

Her genuine curiosity about my past trauma should have been disturbing. Instead, the tightness in my chest loosened.

She gestured toward the compound below us, her voice taking on a practical tone. “So when we find him, you’ll get to settle that particular debt. But first we need to navigate around his security perimeter.”

It wasn’t a question. Just an assessment, delivered like she was already calculating routes and obstacles. Her small hand brushed my arm as she pointed to different sections of the compound, and I noticed she didn’t pull away immediately. The touch lingered, her palm warm against my skin.

“Yes,” I said. And when I come back to shut down those shields, I thought, studying the weak point she’d identified, I’ll use everything you’ve shown me.

“Good.” She was already moving, but there was something different in her movements. Less bounce, more focus. “I do love it when people get to finish important business. Much more satisfying than leaving debts unpaid.”

Not because the rage was gone. It would never be gone. But because someone finally understood that some accounts could only be settled in blood. And she was treating it like a problem worth solving.