Page 48 of Hooded (Gladiators of the Gryn #5)

FERN

I can’t seem to get the images of the rest of the ship’s interior onto my vid-screen, leaving me swearing under my breath as my boarders continue to rattle their way across my bridge. There’s the sound of things breaking and I bristle.

It’s bad enough there were three ships on one, but they don’t need to go poking around all my personal stuff.

As if that’s my biggest problem.

Movement on the vid-screen pulls my attention back to it. Whoever has boarded me is making their way down to the hold, presumably having found themselves locked out of most of my systems. If they’re coming down here, then they have to be pirates.

They’re going to be sorely disappointed at their haul of ration packs and half a dozen pulsars.

Shapes move in the dim light of the cargo bay. I find every muscle is clenched as I await my fate.

“Where are the vrexing lights in this place?” a strong voice booms. “I’d rather Ayar didn’t decide to fire first and ask questions later.”

Vrexing? I’ve heard that word before.

“Here, guv,” a second voice says before the hold lights blink on, and all I can do is stare and stare at the sight which greets me.

Gryn, Gryn, and more Gryn.

They’re not quite the same as Klynn. Their shoulders have heavily armored skin, and their wings are a lighter color, but these creatures, the ones who boarded my ship, are unmistakably Gryn.

Five of them stare around at the hold. One, covered in weaponry, lifts his head and draws in a long breath before baring his teeth.

“Gryn,” he growls. “And human.”

Fuck. They know I’m here. They’re looking for us. My mind is currently blown at the sight of these warriors. I don’t know what to think, what to do, if anything. As I go into mental free fall, Beebie bustles out of an air vent and makes a direct line for the one who used his nose to detect me.

Multiple pulsar weapons are pointed at him until the largest of the Gryn gives an order and each one is lifted away. Beebie swarms up the Gryn he’s set his sights on and doesn’t stop until he reaches the warrior’s shoulders.

His grim, scarred face breaks into the most unbelievable smile.

“Furry,” he says with a shake of his wings as Beebie licks at his face and shoves his whiskers in the Gryn’s ear. “Tickles.”

“Is it me, or does Ayar attract these things?” one of the other Gryn asks. “It must be the way he smells.”

“Ayar bathed this morning,” another retorts. “Even his wings.”

“Like either of you have any time for bathing, what with your three younglings,” the fourth Gryn says, leaning back against the wall of the hold. “So, where the vrex is this Gryn? My instruments say there are no life forms other than this one.” He jerks his thumb at Beebie.

“Your instruments said there were two life forms on here, Jay, and you claimed there was a signature of a Gryn,” the biggest one points out. “So, something is wrong somewhere.”

All of them glare around the hold.

“There is something…” The Gryn called Jay pushes himself away from the wall and stares down at something which looks like a vid screen but is chunkier, as if the tech is older. “Something in here.”

He paces towards the cell. Stops, turns slowly on the spot, his feathers pricking with interest.

If this had been a party of pirates, I’m guessing my ruse might have worked. But these Gryn are specifically looking for Klynn. I have to trust them, even if everything within me is screaming I need to stay hidden.

I open the cell door and hesitantly step out.

“There is a human,” the largest one says with a low whistle.

“What did I say, guv?” Jay shrugs. “Have you got a Gryn in there with you?”

Before I can respond, the one they called Ayar steps forward, his eyes firmly on my bump.

“She carries a Gryn in her belly,” he says easily.

I wrap my arm over my stomach.

“There is no Gryn on this ship,” I say, my hand sliding into my pocket and curling around the pulsar I have there.

“No Gryn,” Jay repeats as he looks over at the largest Gryn, the one he referred to as ‘guv’ and who has to be their leader.

“We detected a DNA signature…” he says.

“Must have been the youngling in her belly,” the dark Gryn standing next to Ayar says.

The leader narrows his eyes as his gaze rakes over me. “We’re looking for Gryn,” he says.

“Are you? How nice,” I respond.

“We are tasked with finding those stolen from our planet by Proto. Scattered among the galaxy, used as cannon fodder, slaves, gladiators, and more. We are to bring them home.”

He sets his wings. They all do. The action is so reminiscent of Klynn I can’t stop the lump rising in my throat or the tears which spring to my eyes.

“That is your mission?” I ask, pushing the words out. “You give me your word?”

“It is our mission, mistress.” The leader executes a low bow. “One we will continue to execute to the best of our ability until all the Gryn are returned to Ustokos, should they wish.”

“Then you’ll help me find him?”

The leader straightens. “Your Gryn?”

“Yes.”

“You have my word, little mistress, as the commander of the Elite. We will help find your mate.”