Page 13 of Keeping Freya (Warriors of Arracate #3)

T’Rak

T aking a knife in both hands, I creep around the cages, making a wide berth across the tables. The guys are sitting opposite one another, which could pose a problem. I am well prepared, though, so I am just going to see where the situation takes me.

Crawling up from behind, luck is on my side, because the males are too busy with drinking and gambling to pay close attention to anything around them. Why would they, when they believe they are safe?

I am crouching now, taking cover behind the one I am facing.

His tail is slashing across the ground, reminding me to act carefully.

Slowly, I rise. I have one chance to take them both by surprise—one chance alone.

The Krait facing me suddenly looks up, and we lock eyes.

I can see the surprise in his eyes. He is too astonished to act, and I throw my knife into his throat.

I do not wait to see how he goes down; his gurgling sound is confirmation enough.

Quickly, I grab the other’s chin and lift his head.

I look him in the eye when I slit his throat.

The same surprise echoing in his eyes as his companion had.

Stepping back, I notice my hands are stained with the dark green blood of the Krait—nasty creatures. I look back and see my mate staring at me. I cannot make out the look in her eyes; I can only hope it is not disgust or fear.

I check to see if the Krait are truly dead, and when I am certain, I make my way to the cruiser.

It is a small one; mostly, it is just a large cargo area with chairs for the pilot and a small crew.

Methodically, I search the space, but find nothing.

When I arrive at the tail of the ship, I see a small opening.

Fuck, he must have noticed something and gone out the back.

Pulling out my gun, I follow his tracks. When I round the ship and face the cages, I come eye to eye with my worst nightmare. My mate is being held by a big Krait, who points the tip of a blade under her chin.

“Drop the gun, or the female dies,” the alien hisses.

His forked tongue slithers through the air as he talks.

I hesitate. I do not want to give up my advantage, but he is holding my mate.

That hesitation costs me dearly, because in a fluid motion, he yanks his blade up, turns his hand, and hits Fr’Ya with the handle, straight in the eye.

I hear cracking and she bellows out in pain.

The knife is firmly at her throat again, so there is nothing left to do for me but drop the gun.

I growl. “What do you want?”

“Your surrender,” he spits.

I hold up my arms. “It is yours.”

He eyes me, then my mate. “It appears we are at a standoff.”

With a snarl, he shoves Fr’Ya forward, the knife at her back. “With one slice, I will sever her spinal cord. We two-legged ones all seem to have that in common.” He cackles, and I do not want to know how he came to that conclusion.

“Turn around,” he commands, but I refuse.

“So, you can stab me in the back, I do not think so.”

Fire spews from his eyes, he knows he made a mistake. He cannot remove the knife from Fr’Ya her back, and he knows it. I will be coming for him when he lets go even an inch. So, he keeps coming closer until he reaches my gun.

“Pick it up,” he commands her. She picks it up, and he quickly grabs the gun, replacing his knife with the barrel. He yanks something from a pocket and hands it to her.

“Restrain him.”

Thoughts move through my mind at the speed of light. Fr’Ya carefully hobbles towards me. She is injured, which only fuels my determination to end this Krait. I move my hands before me, and with an indecisive look at our captor, she begins to pull the restraints around my wrists.

“It will be okay,” I whisper. “Take the knife from my chest, he cannot see you.”

Surprise and determination glimmer in her eyes as she fumbles a bit more with the restraints, leaning in to grab the knife. She expertly hides what she is doing with her body, and it is making the Krait restless. Good. Restless warriors make mistakes.

And mistakes he makes… because, with a growl, he steps closer. “Must I do everything myself?” He shoves Fr’Ya out of the way, making her stumble, but she does not fall. He lets go of the gun for one second, pushing it under his arm to secure the restraints.

I look at Fr’Ya. Now is our time. She does not disappoint.

She throws herself at the Krait, the knife is gleaming in the harsh light, and the asshole is so focused on me, he does not notice her until it is too late.

He turns, and it gives her the chance to plunge the knife down, straight into his eye.

Howling, he falls to the ground, the gun slipping from his grasp.

I lift my arms only to yank them down on my knee to break the restraints.

The minute I look up, though, Fr’Ya already has the gun, with a battle cry, she opens fire, not stopping even when the Krait is long dead.

“Fr’Ya.” I put my hand on her arm. She turns around, giving me a bewildered look, almost shooting me in the process. “It is over. You can stop shooting, it is done.”

She blinks at me before the gun drops to the floor with a clatter. Weary blue eyes slowly focus on me, one heartbeat becomes two, before long, she slowly sighs.

“I was so scared.” Her voice breaks. Instinct takes over, and I pull her against me. I cradle the back of her head with the palm of my hand, mesmerized by how small and delicate she feels in my arms.

“I am here. You are safe.”

“I know,” she sniffs. “I don’t understand why I’m so shaken. I’m usually tougher than this. I do not cry.”

I give her a tight smile. “I know, but you can be tough again when we get back to our ship. I will forget these last five minutes.”

“Promise?” she asks me, but I can hear the slightest bit of mirth in her voice.

“Promise.”

She sniffs several times before gently releasing herself from my embrace.

“Are they all dead?” she asks.

“Very much so.”

“Good,” she says with a grim look. “Now let’s free CeLay and help the other captives.”

She walks over to the cages while I grab the keys from the body.

We quickly free her new friend, who is hurting pretty badly .

“Stay here, I will check the other cages.” Fr’Ya looks as if she is going to protest, but I shake my head. I do not want her to witness things she cannot get back from. She seems to understand, and with a curt nod, she starts fussing over CeLay.

I do a thorough sweep of the cages. I find three other females and two males. The males are in bad shape, but I brought nano-tech on the ship, so I should be able to help them. When I have them all huddled together, I beckon Fr’Ya over to me.

“Can you stay here while I get nano and healing injections for them?”

“Nano?” She looks puzzled.

“Yes, we have tech that can undo previous damage, like broken bones, and it speeds up the healing process.” I gently caress her swollen eye. “We can use it for your eye and ankle.”

She looks over her shoulder at the injured aliens. “Help them first, I will live.”

With a curt nod, I stride out of the Cargo Bay. The way to the ship is much easier to find when I can blast through barricades and rush to get the supplies needed. I do not think there are more Krait, but you never know what is coming.

Freya

I watch the big warrior rush out of the Cargo Bay, and I let out a breath. He is all big, bad warrior, and I know he’s still covered in weird green blood, but this ordeal has made me lose all my snarkiness. I get back to CeLay and the others and see if there’s anything I can do.

“Do any of you have a safe place to go? ”

They all look at me, shell-shocked, until CeLay starts talking.

“We have all been here for a while–they’ve had the worst of it.” She points to two delicate, cat-like female aliens.

“I don’t have a home to go to, but I know how to pilot that ship over there.”

“We can go with you,” one of the males grunts.

“Not in that condition,” CeLay says.

“T’Rak is going to get some healing stuff, you will be good as new before you know it.”

“Okay,” I sigh. “I may know of a safe place, but I do not know how to get there. There is this place called Novarron? My friends are there.”

The cat-like aliens look up. “That’s where we are from!” one of them says, and the other starts to cry. “We never should have left,” she says wryly, comforting her friend.

“The warrior will help us!” CeLay says, and they all nod in agreement.

I am astonished at their faith in T’Rak. He is just one person, but they look at him like he has hung the moon. Am I wrong in holding on to my distrust? Is he really who he says he is?

We wait in silence until he returns, and when he comes back, arms filled with supplies, my heart skips a beat.

Wordlessly, he hands out blankets and food before administering the medicinal injections.

“Can you help us get home?” the crying female sniffs.

“We have to get off this asteroid first. Can anybody fly that cruiser?”

“I can,” CeLay says proudly. T’Rak gives her a curt nod. He is silent for a moment before he starts to speak again.

“This is the plan. You take the females in the cruiser. The males will come with us. We will stock this ship with explosives and blow it the hell up. I will contact my crew then and arrange for coordinates for them to pick you up. They will escort you safely to Novarron.”

He turns to look at the males. “You may go with them if I am certain of your intentions and if the females feel safe with you.”

One of them starts to protest, but the other one nods. “Fair enough.”