Page 15 of Pursued by the Dragon Alien (Zarux Dragon Brides #4)

FIFTEEN

Lilas

She turned and walked toward the quieter side of the market, letting the noise of the stalls fade behind her as she tried to make sense of everything. Lilas walked through the quiet sections of Pavo Outpost. Her soft-soled boots were quiet against the metal-plated floor. She should have been filled with relief. She had finally heard Sevas’ name spoken by someone who had seen her. Knew her. Who had fought beside her. Who knew she was alive.

But relief wasn’t all she felt.

Restlessness pulled her thoughts between the past and the future, swirling with possibilities that were still just out of reach. Sevas had survived. Had fought . If any of them had to wind up in an arena, Sevas was the one who would manage there the best. She could picture it—the stubborn slash of Sevas’ mouth, the way her eyes would blaze whenever she was met with injustice. Of course , she had fought. She wasn’t the kind to bow.

And now, she was somewhere out there. With a Zaruxian named Takkian.

Not just any Zaruxian— Razion’s brother .

Lilas exhaled. She tilted her face toward the high ceiling as she stopped just outside one of the market’s quieter trading posts. A mixture of soft yellow and green lights flickered overhead, casting gentle shadows against the smooth alloy walls. She had needed the room to think, to breathe.

Takkian and Sevas.

Razion and Lilas.

A coincidence, or something more?

A dry laugh rolled from her lips. Two Terian females end up falling in love with two lost Zaruxian brothers? It sounded like some ridiculous space traveler’s folktale. And yet, here she was, standing in an unfamiliar outpost, chasing ghosts she barely understood.

But now, her ghosts had faces. Names.

Sevas was alive, and Lilas would find her.

Lilas shoved her hands into the pockets of her cloak. Her mind spun with possibilities. She had to tell Razion what she was thinking. Maybe he’d already reached the same conclusion. Maybe—

Lilas turned back toward the market’s main walkway, her pulse steadying. She would tell Razion what she’d realized—about the impossible symmetry of their connections, about what this all might mean. He needed to know. But as she rounded the corner, her steps slowed.

Razion stood near the edge of the docking bay. His stance was tense. His wings taut and partly flared. Across from him, Krask spoke in clipped tones. Their postures were rigid, their conversation hushed, but Lilas caught the sharp edge in Krask’s voice and the harsh snap in Razion’s.

Their words weren’t meant for her. Krask’s voice carried just enough for her ears to catch. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop—had just been stepping past the rusted storage unit near the docking bay, her thoughts still tangled around Sevas and Takkian and the mess of emotions swarming her chest.

But then she’d heard her name.

“…Lilas.”

Her instincts screamed at her to move, but they were talking about her . She stepped back and slipped behind a pillar. She peered around the edge to watch.

Krask’s voice was steady, businesslike. “He’s willing to take the Terian. Promises she won’t come to harm. She’ll be safe.”

Lilas went still. Take me? There were no other Terians present to be mistaken for someone else. She pressed against the cold metal, forcing herself to stay silent while her heart hammered. Safe . That word meant nothing when it came from Krask’s mouth. Safe could mean anything.

Her body went tight. Heat rushed through her limbs even as ice curled in her gut. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Maybe she misheard. That couldn’t mean what it sounded like.

Razion’s voice was flat, edged with something cold and sharp. “You’ve been busy since we docked, Krask.”

Krask inclined his head slightly, arms still crossed. “It must be done, or at least considered. Think about the harm and disruption she has—and will —cause the crew. Xelvor says he has the perfect situation for her.”

“Xelvor?” Razion’s expression didn’t shift, but something dangerous flickered behind his storm-gray eyes. “Xelvor the trafficker? ” His voice came out low, lethal.

“Yes, but he’s not like that anymore.” Krask shook his head. “He’s cleaned up his operation.”

“Is that so?” Razion’s jaw clenched. “And you think the best thing I can do with Lilas is to sell her to a trafficker?” The cold authority in his voice made something in her tremble. Stars help her, she had trusted Razion, and now, he was discussing handing her off like unwanted salvage. Bile rose in her throat, thick and bitter. She forced herself to stay still, to listen.

Krask’s green lips pressed into a thin line around his tusks. “You know as well as I that it’s better to do it now, before you become attached.”

Razion sighed. His next words were calm. “Did you already set up this meeting?”

“Yes.” Krask didn’t hesitate. “Time and place are arranged. I just need your confirmation that you’ll take it.”

Lilas’ breath caught painfully in her lungs. Say no, Razion , she begged in her mind. Say fek no .

Razion’s answer came a moment later, his tone taut, unreadable. “I’ll take the meeting.”

A pit opened in Lilas’ chest. She staggered back, barely conscious of her movements. The words rang in her head, burning like an open wound. He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t question it. No sharp denial, no refusal.

Her entire body went numb as it flooded with betrayal. What a fool she had been.

Lilas was done. She didn’t need to hear any more.

She turned and ran, slipping between crates and shadows, disappearing into the station before Razion could even realize she was gone.

Her breath came in sharp gasps as she ran. Her pulse thudded in her ears, louder than the buzz of the outpost. She didn’t think—she just moved, weaving through merchants and travelers, slipping between crates and storage units, ignoring the startled aliens behind her. All she knew was that she needed to get away.

Tears blurred her vision as fury warred with betrayal. Razion had saved her, pulled her off that bastard’s ship, freed her from the harem she’d been sold into. He had touched her. Held her. Whispered to her in the dark. And now, he was handing her over like a piece of cargo.

She darted into a shadowed corridor, barely avoiding crashing into a stack of rusted metal crates. Her legs felt weak, her chest constricted like there wasn’t enough air in the entire outpost to fill her lungs.

He was planning to sell her.

He had agreed to the meeting. Krask had arranged it. They’d spoken about her like she was some package they needed to offload and then—the worst part—Razion had just…agreed.

As if what they’d shared didn’t matter. As if she didn’t matter.

The fury burned hotter, pushing out the trembling panic.

No . Fek, no. She wasn’t going to let him do this. She had learned her lesson, and if Razion thought he could hand her over without a fight, he was dead wrong.

Lilas pressed herself against the cold metal of a storage unit, trying to steady her breathing. She had to think.

She wasn’t trapped. Not yet. The outpost wasn’t big, but she could find a way out. There had to be a transport she could slip onto, an escape route— something .

Her fingers dug into the gritty surface of a crate as she forced herself to focus. The corridor she had stumbled into was quieter than the main thoroughfare, dimly lit by flickering overhead lights an. She’d head to the shuttle bay. There, she’d find a ship to leave on. It was reckless and impossible and the only plan she had.

Lilas sucked in a sharp breath, but her reflexes fired too late as a thick, calloused hand clamped over her mouth. Her body jolted. Every muscle locked as she was wrenched backward and pinned against a solid, unyielding chest. She squirmed, kicked, but there was no getting out of these arms, or the thick wings that closed around them both, blocking out light.

A voice, low and rough, snaked past her ear. “Be quiet, Lilas.” The words rumbled through her spine like a vibration against her bones.

She knew that voice. She’d only heard it a handful of times, but it was indelibly etched into her mind. She knew it from a lifetime of orders delivered over fields of wilted crops, and cold pronouncements.

The overseer of Settlement 112-1 had caught her.