Page 28 of Krin (The Protectorate Warriors Alien Fated Mates #3)

Uzar

THE THRALA’S BOMBARDMENT had reduced the Voletti base to little more than a smoldering graveyard on Jaxia’s frozen moon.

Cracked walls crumbled, and charred debris littered the ground. Smoke curled lazily into the thin atmosphere, staining the horizon with the dark promise of annihilation.

I crouched behind a jagged fragment of metal, my golden skin catching faint reflections of the ashen light filtering through the haze. Bracing myself, the membranes of my wings tensed, ready for flight or battle.

Automated drones hissed overhead as they passed. Even in death, the vraking Voletti’s creations still hunted.

Unlike most enemies I had faced, the Voletti were no warriors. Fragile beings with wiry frames and feeble bodies, they relied on intellect over strength, cunning over honor.

Yet even their brilliance had failed them today.

Caught off guard by the Thrala’s unrelenting assault and the intervention of the Protectorate Forces, they had stood little chance.

The Thrala, recent allies of the Protectorate, had every reason to strike with such ruthless precision.

The Voletti had destroyed their home world, reducing it to ash and scattering their people among the stars.

Their intense hatred towards the Voletti fueled a relentless pursuit to eradicate every trace of their enemy.

I scanned the smoldering remains of the compound, the choking stench of destruction thick in the air. I felt a fresh wave of determination, and my jaw clenched.

The ruins might hold surviving female prisoners, or their captors might have already ended their lives. I couldn’t yet say.

It wasn’t just the Voletti who had blood on their hands. The Krilex—cold-blooded and calculating—had willingly allied with them, abducting females to fuel their grotesque cloning experiments.

The Protectorate had first warned of their presence in Alaran space nearly an arn ago, suspecting the scaled fiends were working with someone.

It didn’t take long to confirm they were aiding the Voletti.

By the time the full extent of their atrocities was revealed, the Ixul leaders had finally agreed to join the Protectorate Alliance.

Far too late, in my view.

My jaw clenched, a serpentine anticipation coiling in my chest. The Krilex were said to be withdrawing from Alaran space now, their motives unknown, but the unease they left in their wake remained like a shadow over our efforts.

The Thrala’s wrath had been swift and merciless, leaving no corner of the compound untouched. And yet, as I moved through the wreckage, a gnawing doubt took hold.

What if we were too late?

What if those imprisoned within these walls had already paid the ultimate price?

The comm in my ear crackled, cutting through my thoughts. “Uzar, report,” Captain Kraczok’s voice came, crisp and commanding, as always.

“West quadrant nearly cleared,” I replied, scanning the jagged ruins ahead. “Prisoners — some still breathing.” My gaze caught on a shadow that might have been a body. “Others won’t make it.”

There was a pause, uncharacteristically long.

When the captain finally spoke, his tone softened, but only slightly. “Do what you can. But remember, we can’t save them all.”

A muscle in my jaw tightened. I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The words hung in the air, bitter, and heavy.

Switching off the comm, I rose from my crouch, wings rustling as I surveyed the central structure ahead. Its dented facade stood defiant against the surrounding destruction, but its resilience was an illusion. I could feel the fractures beneath the surface, the brittle remains of Voletti arrogance.

We’d already pulled a group of human females from a smaller building—ghostly figures, their faces hollow, their bodies trembling with exhaustion and terror. One had clung to me, her weight barely noticeable, as if she were more shadow than substance.

A faint sound drew my attention. A groan. Somewhere ahead, beneath the layers of ash and ruin, life persisted.

I moved quickly, striding through the wreckage with practiced precision. The air was chilly as I approached the central structure, the scent of chemicals and decay hanging thick in the frigid atmosphere.

A breach in the wall offered an opening, though the jagged edges scraped against my wings as I slipped through.

The interior was darker than I’d expected, lit only by the sickly glow of failing machinery. The stench of fear and despair clung to the air. I had navigated through countless such places before, but this one felt different.

My horns scraped the low ceiling as I moved. There was an urgency, a sense of impending doom that gnawed at me.

It wasn’t long before I found her.

Following her scent, I discovered a small, dimly lit cell. Although locked, the door gave way to my strength. Inside, a thin blanket lay beneath a frail figure huddled on the floor. Short, shallow breaths escaped her lips.

A female. Barely conscious, her body shook from the torment she’d suffered.

I approached cautiously, my wings flaring as I assessed her condition.

Her skin was pale, her body marred with scars that told stories I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear.

Her eyes fluttered open.

The depth of her pain was evident in her desperate, pleading gaze, instantly grabbing my attention.

“Safe...” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Am I... safe?”

Her words echoed in my mind, a grim portent of the trials ahead. This rescue was only the beginning.

Her physical scars worried me, but even more unsettling were her invisible wounds. Those hidden deep within her thoughts.

The path to her healing would be fraught with challenges.

“You are safe with me,” I reassured. I hoped that the conviction in my tone would ease her fears, even if only a little.

As I knelt beside her, she flinched, but when I reached for her hand, she didn’t pull away. Her fingers were icy and trembling, yet her grip tightened ever so slightly, as she latched onto my hand.

Despite her weakened state, there was a strength within her, a defiance that refused to be broken.

I also sensed something unique. A connection I couldn’t explain.

The sensation thrummed faintly, like a melody half-heard through static. It was enough to quicken my pulse and unsettle my thoughts.

Yet, I ignored those thoughts, instead focusing on the current moment.

Again, I murmured, “You’re safe,” carefully scooping her up into my arms. “I will protect you.”

Her eyes held a silent plea, a desperate, unspoken need for someone to see beyond the scars and recognize her strength.

A shaky breath escaped her lips before she could ask, “Who... are you?”

Holding her closer, I looked down at her, my wings pressed to my back. “I am Uzar Revnor,” I replied, my voice firm. “I am a warrior of the Protectorate, and I will let no one harm you again.”

The slightest smile, a small but important victory, curved her lips. Fear and hope battled in her barely conscious face. However, a flicker of trust shone from her eyes. Though as delicate as glass, it still existed.

Her breathing steadied. Shallow but rhythmic.

I shifted my wings around her, shielding her from the chill as I carried her out of the facility.

My mind spun with the gravity of the future pressing in on me. Instinct warned me the trials ahead might test us both. But, with her in my arms, I knew I would face whatever came next.

For this fragile female in my arms, I would face anything.

Outside, the bitter tang of burning metal mixed with the icy air. Warriors moved through the ruins, guiding survivors towards Protectorate shuttles.

The comm buzzed again. “Uzar, report.”

“I’ve found a female,” I said, my voice even. “Human. Alive, but critical. Returning to the ship with her now.”

“Understood. Medical is ready.”

I spread my wings and launched into the air, the motion smooth despite the weight in my arms. The dark-haired female stirred faintly, her fragile frame pressing against mine.

“You’ll live,” I vowed, the words a quiet defiance against fate. “Even if it costs me everything.