Page 28 of Naga General’s Mate (Nagas of Nirum #2)
Brivul
The landing pad’s lights cut harsh shadows across Brivul’s scales as he tracked the approaching ship. His tail twitched with impatience. Soon, the familiar whine of Niri thrusters filled the air as the sleek vessel touched down.
The loading ramp hadn’t fully descended before Lors burst out, his golden scales gleaming in the moonlight.
“You look like shit, General.”
“Still outrank you, Lieutenant.” Brivul clasped Lors’s forearm in a warrior’s greeting. The familiar gesture settled something in him he hadn’t realized was unsettled.
Nia emerged next, her violet eyes scanning the perimeter before focusing on him. “Sir.”
“Drop the sir , Nia. I resigned, remember?”
“Once our general, always our general.” Cantos’s deep voice rumbled as he ducked through the hatch.
Kev and Fikleo followed, their weapons clearly visible despite their civilian attire. Good. They had come prepared.
“Didn’t expect all of you to show up.” Brivul’s throat tightened. These warriors had followed him through hell once before.
“As if we’d let you storm a fortress alone.” Fikleo checked his blade with practiced ease. “Besides, it’s been too long since we had a proper fight.”
“This isn’t just another battle.” Brivul’s claws flexed. “Kurg has my mate.”
“Your mate?” Nia’s head snapped up. “The human?”
“Yes.” The word came out as a possessive growl. “And I’ll tear through anyone who stands between us.”
“Then we’ll clear the path.” Lors clapped his shoulder. “The unit’s got your back, General. Always will.”
The others nodded, and Brivul felt the familiar surge of pride. These weren’t just soldiers. They were family. His chest swelled as he looked at each face, remembering countless battles fought side by side.
“Thank you.” The words felt inadequate. “All of you.”
“Save it for after we rescue your mate.” Cantos checked his weapons. “Now, what’s the plan?”
Brivul walked up the loading ramp, and they all followed him faithfully.
The ship’s familiar hum vibrated through Brivul’s scales as he stood at the tactical display. His old unit gathered around, their faces lit by the blue glow of the holomap showing Kurg’s stronghold.
“Three main entry points.” Brivul’s claw traced the perimeter. “Guards rotate every four hours. Priscilla says the east entrance is least defended.”
“Perfect breach point.” Lors leaned forward. “We could split into teams.”
“Two teams.” Nia tapped the display. “One for distraction, one for extraction.”
The tactical planning felt natural, like slipping into old armor. Brivul’s chest swelled with pride at how quickly they fell back into their roles.
“Kev, your stealth skills would be valuable on the extraction team.”
“Already packing sonic dampeners.” Kev patted his gear. “Guards won’t hear us coming.”
Fikleo cracked his knuckles. “Leave the distraction to me. I’ll give them something to worry about.”
“The main challenge will be reaching Mila’s cell.” Brivul pulled up the interior layout. “Underground level, heavy security.”
“Just like that prison break on Niri Prime.” Cantos’s scales rippled with anticipation. “Remember how we handled that?”
“Smoke bombs in the ventilation.” Lors grinned. “Classic.”
“We’ll need to move fast.” Brivul’s tail lashed. “Once they realize we’re there, Kurg might try to use Mila as leverage.”
“Not if we get to him first.” Nia’s violet eyes narrowed. “Cut off the head…”
“And the body falls.” Brivul nodded. His claws dug into the display’s edge. “We go in at night shift change. Lors, Nia—you’re with me on extraction. The rest of you, make sure they don’t know which way to look.”
The familiar rhythm of planning calmed the rage burning in him. Every second without Mila felt like torture, but he’d do this right. For her.
“Questions?”
Five heads shook in unison. They knew their roles, just like always.
“Good,” Brivul said. “Let’s bring my mate home.”
As their ship was en route to Kurg’s stronghold, the familiar scent of military rations filled the ship’s common area. Brivul watched his old unit settle around the table. His tail curled with satisfaction at their easy camaraderie, despite the year apart.
“Remember that time on Vega Six?” Lors passed around the protein packs. “When the general here had us eat bugs for three days straight?”
“Better than starving.” Brivul’s scales rippled with amusement. “Though Fikleo’s face when that beetle crawled out—”
“We swore never to speak of that again.” Fikleo pointed his fork accusingly.
Nia snorted. “At least bugs don’t compare to that mystery meat from the Zenith campaign.”
The laughter that followed loosened something in Brivul’s chest. He’d forgotten this—the way they could find humor even before the deadliest missions. His gaze swept over each of them, committing their faces to memory.
“Getting soft on us, General?” Cantos caught his look.
“Just appreciating having the best unit in the galaxy at my back again.”
“Wouldn’t be anywhere else.” Kev’s quiet voice carried weight. “You led us through worse.”
Brivul’s jaw tightened. He’d walked away from all this—the responsibility, the brotherhood. Thought he could live a simpler life. But watching them now, sharing a meal like old times, he realized how much he’d missed it.
“Should’ve kept in touch better,” he admitted.
“You needed time.” Lors’s understanding tone made Brivul’s scales itch. “That civilian ship hit us all hard. But you’re still our general.”
“And we’ve got your mate to rescue.” Nia’s practical reminder brought nods all around.
Brivul’s claws flexed against the table. Mila. Every instinct screamed to charge in guns blazing, but having his unit here steadied him. They’d do this right.
The familiar routine of a pre-mission meal settled over them. They ate efficiently, their bodies preparing for action, while trading the kind of casual banter that came from years of trust.
Brivul’s scales tingled in the cool night air as their ship settled onto the abandoned landing pad. The familiar weight of his tactical gear pressed against his chest as he led his unit down the ramp. Street lights cast an oily sheen across the deserted industrial district of Jorvla.
“Formation Delta,” he whispered, and his team fell into position without hesitation.
Kev melted into the shadows ahead as their point man. Lors and Nia flanked Brivul while Cantos and Fikleo brought up the rear. Their footsteps whispered across the stone, a sound that brought back countless midnight raids.
“Two guards, northwest corner,” Kev’s voice crackled through their comms.
Brivul raised his fist, and the unit froze as one. His tail twitched with predatory anticipation as he watched the guards pass. Every muscle in his body yearned to charge forward, to tear through anyone between him and Mila. But years of command experience held him in check.
“Clear.” Kev’s signal sent them moving again.
They wove through the maze of warehouses, each member instinctively covering the others’ blind spots. The acrid tang of industrial chemicals couldn’t mask the familiar scent of his unit—the metallic bite of weapons oil, the leather of their gear.
“Like old times,” Lors murmured as they pressed against a wall, waiting for Kev’s next signal.
Brivul’s jaw clenched. This was different. This wasn’t just another mission. Mila’s face flashed through his mind—her fierce green eyes, her determined chin. His mate needed him.
“Kurg’s outer perimeter ahead,” Nia reported. “Security’s tighter than intel suggested.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Brivul’s voice carried the steel of command. “We’re getting in.”
His unit’s quiet murmurs of agreement steadied him. They’d followed him through impossible odds before, and they’d do it again.
Brivul’s claws flexed against his weapon as images of Mila tormented his thoughts. The memory of her bruised face from their first escape twisted his gut. If Kurg had marked her perfect skin again…
His tail lashed, nearly striking the wall. The thought of his mate in pain made his scales bristle with rage.
“General?” Lors’s quiet voice pulled him from his dark musings.
“I’ll kill him.” The words came out in a low growl. “If he’s hurt her, I’ll tear him apart with my bare hands.”
“We’ll get to her in time.”
But Brivul barely heard the reassurance. His mind filled with Mila’s fierce green eyes, her determined spirit that refused to break even under Kurg’s abuse. She was his—to protect and cherish. He’d failed her once by letting Kurg take her. Never again.
The mating bond ached in his chest, an empty void where her presence should be.
His jaw clenched as he forced down the primal urge to roar his challenge to Kurg. He was more than just an alpha male driven by instinct. He was a former general, a tactical commander. And he would use every skill, every strategy he’d ever learned, to ensure Mila’s safety this time.