Page 26

THE INJURED RESISTANCE FIGHTER

Amelia's POV

The crash of falling rock jerks me from sleep like a gunshot.

I bolt upright, heart hammering against my ribs as the sound reverberates through the den—not from the main entrance, but from the smaller passage carved into the eastern wall that Vex rarely uses.

My body still hums with satisfaction from our earlier claiming, inner thighs sticky with his seed, the claiming marks on my throat pulsing with residual heat.

Vex moves like liquid death, his massive frame crossing the chamber before I've fully processed the noise. His wings fold tight against his back for maneuverability, muscles coiled with predatory tension as he pauses at the corridor entrance.

"Stay here," he commands, yellow eyes flashing with dangerous light.

I should listen. The smart choice is to remain safely in the sleeping chamber while he investigates whatever triggered the Council forces he detected earlier. But something about that crash—not deliberate attack but accidental collapse—sends my medical instincts screaming.

I follow him despite his orders, bare feet silent on cold stone.

The secondary passage narrows as it winds deeper into the mountain, rough walls still bearing the claw marks where Vex carved through solid rock. The air grows cooler, carrying mineral scents and the promise of open sky beyond.

Another sound reaches us—labored breathing, the unmistakable rasp of someone fighting for life. Vex's pace quickens, and I struggle to keep up with his longer strides, my body still tender from being stretched around his knot.

The passage opens into a small chamber that serves as the secondary entrance.

That's where we find him—a human man slumped against the wall, blood soaking through makeshift bandages wrapped around his thigh.

His face is gray with blood loss, features drawn tight with agony as weakening hands press against the wound.

What catches my attention immediately is his clothing—standard mountain gear, but with distinctive pattern-breaks sewn into the seams. Asymmetrical stitching at the shoulders, deliberately misaligned panels at the waist. Resistance gear, designed to disrupt Prime visual tracking.

My heart stops.

Vex's growl reverberates through the chamber, raising every hair on my body. "Resistance." The word emerges as accusation and death sentence combined.

The man looks up, terror flooding his features as he registers the massive Chimeric alpha filling the entrance. His hand moves weakly toward his boot where a blade is probably hidden, but the movement sends fresh blood pumping between his fingers.

"He's injured," I say, medical training overriding self-preservation. The dark red flow and pulsing pattern tell me everything I need to know. "Severely."

"Injured resistance on Prime territory means execution," Vex states, advancing with lethal intent. Claws extend from his fingertips, gleaming like obsidian daggers in the dim light. His tail lashes behind him with deadly precision.

Without thinking, I step between them.

My body moves before my brain catches up, placing myself as a barrier between predator and prey. "He'll die without immediate treatment. That wound has severed the femoral artery based on bleeding pattern. Minutes at most."

Vex's pupils contract to thin slits, dominance and territorial aggression radiating from his frame like heat from a forge. For a terrible moment, I think he might simply move me aside—or through me—to reach his target.

"You're breaking Conquest Law by helping him," he growls, voice dropping to that register that makes my claiming marks throb with involuntary submission.

My knees want to buckle. My omega instincts scream at me to bare my throat and beg forgiveness. Instead, I force myself to stand firm.

"I'm a nurse. I took an oath to preserve life."

"Your human oaths don't matter anymore."

"They're all that's left of who I used to be," I counter, meeting his gaze despite every instinct demanding I lower my eyes. "If you're going to kill him, you'll have to go through me first."

Behind me, the injured man makes a strangled sound of disbelief. A human woman standing up to a Chimeric Dominator? It must look like suicide.

Vex's expression cycles through emotions I can't read before settling into something like reluctant calculation. The alpha who just filled me with his seed, who claimed me so tenderly while I carried his child, now weighs my life against territorial law.

"Fine," he finally says. "Patch him up. I'll decide what to do with him after."

Relief floods through me so fast I almost sag. It's a compromise I can live with.

I turn immediately to the wounded fighter, dropping to my knees beside him. "I need my medical kit," I tell Vex without looking up. "Clean water. Bandages. The antibiotic powder from the southern cache."

To my surprise, he doesn't argue. Just turns and disappears back down the passage toward the main den. The injured man stares after him with undisguised shock.

"Keep pressure here," I instruct, guiding his hands to the proper position. "What's your name?"

"Eli," he answers, voice weak but coherent. "You're... human."

"Last time I checked." I examine the wound edges around his makeshift bandage. Clean cut, likely from sharp rock rather than weapons. "What happened?"

"Rock slide. Was trying to avoid a Feline patrol." His breathing comes in shallow pants. "Wasn't expecting to find a Chimeric den."

"Well, you found one. And it's your lucky day—the Chimeric you found happens to have a captive nurse."

"Lucky," he repeats with a weak laugh that becomes a wince.

Vex returns with surprising speed, arms loaded with supplies. He sets them beside me without comment, then positions himself at the entrance where he can monitor both us and the passage outside.

I work quickly, hands falling into familiar rhythms. Emergency medicine was my specialty—trauma cases where seconds meant the difference between life and death. The femoral artery isn't completely severed, but it's nicked badly enough to create life-threatening hemorrhage.

"This will hurt," I warn as I prepare coagulant powder.

Eli's jaw tightens. "Do what you need to."

The next thirty minutes pass in focused medical work. Throughout the procedure, I feel Vex's gaze tracking every movement with predatory attention. His presence creates tension that makes my shoulders ache, but also... something else.

Protection.

He's guarding us both, I realize. Not just watching to ensure I don't help the resistance fighter escape, but actively protecting the space where I work.

"Your Chimeric is unusual," Eli comments as I finish the final bandage, voice low enough he probably thinks Vex can't hear. Given Chimeric hearing, he's wrong.

"He's not mine," I correct automatically. "I'm a captive."

Eli's eyes flick to the claiming marks on my throat, the way I unconsciously orient toward Vex even while focused on medical work. "Captives don't usually give orders about medical supplies. And Primes don't usually let resistance fighters live after territorial intrusion."

The observation hits too close to home. My relationship with Vex has evolved beyond simple captivity, but I don't have words for what it's become.

"Your wound needs two weeks to heal properly," I tell him, changing the subject. "You've lost significant blood. Moving too soon risks reopening the artery."

"I can't stay here." Eli's eyes dart toward Vex. "No offense to your... arrangement, but I'm not keen on becoming Chimeric property."

"You don't have to stay," Vex says unexpectedly, moving closer. "The resistance can pass through the outer territory as long as you follow the rules."

Both Eli and I stare at him in shock. This directly contradicts Conquest Law, which mandates immediate reporting of resistance activity.

"The Felines are running way more patrols on the eastern ridge," Eli says cautiously, clearly testing this unexpected opening. "Three times the normal number, with gear that looks like they're planning something big."

Vex's wings shift slightly—the only sign this information concerns him. "A territory grab or someone specific?"

"Both, from what we can tell." Eli seems to decide that talking directly is his best option. "Captain Kain wants more territory, but they've got Council-issued containment cages, neural nets, tranquilizer weapons. The kind of gear you use when you need something alive but helpless."

I watch this exchange with growing confusion. Why is Vex engaging with a resistance fighter instead of executing him? Why does Eli seem increasingly comfortable providing tactical information to a Prime?

"Seen any Gargoyle units?" Vex asks, the question carrying weight I don't understand.

Eli nods. "Two units minimum. Carrying binding equipment."

The words send visible tension through Vex's frame. Binding equipment—designed specifically for flying Primes, to permanently ground them through chemical or physical restraints. The threat becomes suddenly, terrifyingly personal.

"When?" Vex presses.

"Four days. Maybe five if the weather gets bad." Eli shifts, wincing as the movement pulls his stitches. "They're waiting for the final okay from higher up, but everything's ready to go."

The information confirms what Vex told me during survival training, but hearing independent verification makes it real. Council forces are coming—coming for us, with equipment designed to cripple Vex permanently.

My hand moves unconsciously to my belly where his child grows. What happens to hybrid offspring when their Prime father is "grounded"?

"Your group hiding near the southern valley?" Vex asks, tone shifting from interrogation to something more practical.

Eli hesitates before answering. "Near the thermal springs. Small outpost, mostly just watching and listening."

To my complete shock, Vex moves to a storage niche and retrieves a bundle wrapped in waterproof hide. He places it beside Eli.