Page 27 of Naga General’s Mate (Nagas of Nirum #2)

Brivul

Brivul’s claws dug into his palms as Kurg’s transport took off down the street, taking Mila far away. Every instinct screamed at him to chase after them, to tear through anyone who stood between him and his mate. But Priscilla’s ragged breathing beside him demanded his attention.

“Stay with me.” He scooped up Priscilla’s battered form. Blood matted her golden hair, and purple bruises bloomed across her face. Her skin burned with fever against his scales.

The nearest clinic was three blocks away. Brivul slithered through the crowded streets, cradling Priscilla against his chest. The tang of copper filled his nostrils with each labored breath she took.

“Almost there.” His jaw clenched. Kurg would pay for this—for hurting both sisters. But first, he had to honor Mila’s sacrifice by saving Priscilla.

The clinic’s doors slid open with a hiss. “This woman needs immediate attention.”

“Sir, we require payment before—”

“You’ll treat her now.” Brivul hissed, violet eyes flashing. “Or I’ll ensure this establishment never sees another patient.”

The clerk’s mouth snapped shut. She pressed a button and medical staff rushed forward with a hover-stretcher.

“Multiple contusions, possible internal bleeding,” one medic rattled off as they whisked Priscilla away. “Get her to trauma bay three.”

Brivul’s fists clenched and unclenched as he watched them disappear through the double doors. The warrior in him wanted to tear through the city hunting Kurg. But abandoning Priscilla would destroy any trust Mila had placed in him.

“Your mate?” The clerk’s voice was softer now.

“Her sister.” The words tasted bitter. He’d failed to protect both of them.

“She’s in good hands. Doctor Ren is the best trauma specialist in the district.”

Brivul gave a curt nod and settled into the waiting area. He’d get Priscilla stable and then find a way to rescue Mila. His mate was strong. She’d survive until he could reach her. She had to.

The antiseptic smell of the clinic burned Brivul’s nostrils as he paced the waiting room. His tail lashed against the floor, drawing concerned looks from other patients. Let them stare. His mate was in danger.

“Sir, please remain seated.” A nurse wrung her hands. “You’re disturbing the other patients.”

“Then get me an update on Priscilla’s condition.”

“The doctor will—”

“Now.”

The nurse scurried away. Brivul resumed his pacing, his mind racing through scenarios. A frontal assault on Kurg’s compound would be suicide since the kingpin’s security rivaled military installations. Sneaking in might work, but he’d need detailed blueprints. Intel. Resources.

“Damn it.” His fist connected with the wall.

Going through official channels would take too long. By the time the Council of Seven acted on Talis’s evidence, Mila could be dead.

“Priscilla is stabilized.” The nurse’s voice cut through his thoughts. “She’ll make a full recovery.”

Relief loosened some of the tension in his shoulders. At least he hadn’t failed both sisters completely. But each second he spent here was another second Mila suffered.

“When can she be moved?”

“Sir, she needs at least—”

“How long?”

The nurse swallowed. “Twenty-four hours minimum.”

Brivul nodded curtly. One day. He had one day to form a plan while keeping his promise to protect Priscilla. His scales clicked against the floor as he resumed pacing.

Maybe he could pose as a buyer? No, Kurg would recognize him instantly. Cause a distraction? Possible, but risky without backup. Every option seemed to lead to either certain failure or Mila’s death.

The scar on his jaw throbbed as he ground his teeth. He was a former general of the Niri forces. He’d led countless successful missions. Why couldn’t he see a clear path now when it mattered most?

Suddenly, the perfect idea came to him, and he made his way down the clinic’s service corridor, his warrior instincts guiding him past the staff. The communication terminal had to be somewhere in the administrative wing. His tail brushed against the sterile walls as he tracked the smell of electronics and ozone.

There. A small office with the door slightly ajar. He slid inside, scanning the room before settling at the terminal. His claws clicked against the keys as he input Lors’s private frequency.

“This better be important.” Lors’s voice crackled through the speaker.

“I need your help. My mate’s been taken.”

“Your mate? Since when do you—”

“Focus. Remember Kurg the kingpin?”

“The slimeball who thinks he owns half of Jorvla? Yeah.”

“He has her. And I’m going to get her back.” Brivul growled. “But I can’t do it alone.”

“Slow down. What’s the situation?”

Brivul outlined everything—the evidence against Kurg, Mila’s capture, Priscilla’s condition. His fists clenched as he spoke.

“You always did find the most interesting trouble.” Lors chuckled. “I’ll contact Nia, Cantos, and Kev. Maybe even Fikleo, if I can track him down.”

“How fast can you get here?”

“Give me twelve hours. We’ll need gear and a solid plan.”

“Make it six. Kurg’s not known for his patience.”

“Eight. And that’s pushing it.” Lors paused. “You really care about this human. Don’t you?”

“She’s my mate.” The words came out as a possessive growl. “Anyone who touches her dies.”

“There’s the general I remember. Eight hours. Keep your comm open.”

The connection closed. Brivul erased all traces of the call and slipped back into the corridor. Eight hours. He could protect Priscilla and plan their assault in that time. Kurg would learn why taking a Niri general’s mate was a fatal mistake.

Brivul soon entered Priscilla’s room, his scales rustling against the sterile floor. The sharp scent of antiseptic couldn’t mask the copper tang of blood that still clung to her bandages. His jaw clenched at the sight of her bruised face, tear tracks cutting through the dirt and dried blood.

“He’s going to kill her.” Priscilla’s voice cracked. “She shouldn’t have traded herself for me.”

“Your sister made her choice.” The words came out rougher than he intended. Seeing Priscilla’s pain reminded him too much of his own failure to protect them both.

“You don’t understand. Kurg will make her suffer.” Fresh tears spilled down Priscilla’s cheeks. “He’ll break her just to prove he can.”

A growl rumbled in Brivul’s chest. His claws dug into his palms, drawing blood.

“Listen to me.” He straightened himself up to his full height, letting his warrior’s presence fill the small room. “I was a general of the Niri forces. I’ve commanded armies and taken down entire pirate fleets. Your sister is my mate, and I will tear apart anyone who stands between us.”

Priscilla’s eyes widened. “Mate? But she’s human…”

“She’s mine.” The possessive growl in his voice made Priscilla flinch. He forced himself to soften his tone. “I have soldiers coming. Warriors I trust with my life. We’re going to get her back.”

“You promise?”

“On my honor as a warrior.” Brivul’s eyes blazed. “Kurg will regret ever laying hands on either of you.”

Priscilla’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

Brivul pulled a chair close to Priscilla’s bed, his tail coiling with barely contained tension. “Tell me everything about Kurg’s stronghold—every entrance, every guard rotation.”

“The main gate has six guards at all times.” Priscilla’s voice trembled. “But they bring in supplies through a service entrance on the east side.”

“How many guards are there?”

“Two, usually. Sometimes three during deliveries.”

Brivul’s claws clicked against the metal bed rail as he absorbed the information. His military mind mapped out potential infiltration points.

“What about inside? Security systems?”

“Motion sensors in all the corridors.” Priscilla’s fingers twisted in the sheets. “And cameras. But there’s a blind spot near the kitchen storage. That’s how Mila and I used to sneak extra food.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest at the thought of his mate having to steal food to survive. He’d make Kurg pay for every indignity she’d suffered.

“Where does Kurg keep his… prisoners?”

“The lower level. It’s…” Priscilla swallowed hard. “It’s where he breaks people who defy him.”

Brivul’s massive form tensed. The thought of Mila in that basement made his blood boil.

“Guard rotations down there?”

“Four guards, changing every six hours. But Kurg’s personal enforcer is always nearby.”

“Description?”

“Massive Draknid. Nearly as tall as you. Has a cybernetic eye that can see in the dark.”

Brivul committed every detail to memory, already planning how to neutralize each threat. The enforcer would be a challenge, but nothing would stop him from reaching his mate.

“The access codes change daily,” Priscilla continued. “But Mila discovered that Kurg keeps them written down in his office. He never could remember them.”

A hint of pride colored Brivul’s voice. “My mate is a very bright girl.”