Page 16 of Returned to the Vissigroth (The Vissigroths of Leander #6)

T he scent of blood coated my tongue. Long-honed instinct kept me fighting, muscle memory kept parrying blows, I moved with my sword, slicing, boots steady, body locked in the rhythm of killing.

One Renegade lunged; I sidestepped, drove my blade into his ribs, and ripped it free.

Another came low with a curved axe; he missed by a breath when I pivoted.

As I came around, I swung wide, fast, brutal, and lethal.

He wasn’t prepared for the counter, and my sword shattered his jaw.

Most of these males weren’t trained. They were the worst of the worst. Males who’d been cast out of their towns because they committed heinous crimes of one sort or another. They were hungry, desperate. And that made them especially dangerous.

A flicker in the corner of my vision made me pivot, but it wasn’t an enemy.

It was Daphne. She stood by the mouth of the tent, the flap clutched in one hand, her hair wild around her face, lips parted, eyes wide.

The light of a few dying embers caught the side of her cheekbone, the curve of her throat, and made her hair look like flames.

She didn't look afraid at all—she had always been a brave seffy. The look on her face, gods, it knocked the breath from my lungs harder than any blade ever had. I knew that look all too well. I had seen it a thousand times before and thought I never would again. It was a mix of awe, hunger, and possession . Like I already belonged to her, and she just hadn’t decided what to do with me yet.

It hit me low in the gut, hard enough to forget all rules of engagement, hard enough to stand there frozen like a besotted youth rather than a male in his fifties. Mistakes are never forgiven—least of all on the battlefield. I missed the shadow moving to my left. Steel hissed.

Korran’s blade blocked the blow meant for my spine, sparks flying as the two swords collided just inches from my back.

“Focus, you arrogant bastard!” he snarled.

I grinned. “Didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t want your Vissy watching you die,” he growled, ripping his sword free and taking the kill himself.

I didn’t answer. Just turned, jaw tight, eyes locking back on Daphne. She hadn’t moved. Gods, she looked so fragile there, barefoot, standing alone with nothing between her and the chaos but a scrap of canvas and the mercy of the gods.

I wanted to go to her. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

More Renegades were falling now. Some tried to run, stumbling over the dead, tripping over their own desperation. My dragoons surged forward with renewed fury, cutting them down as they broke rank.

We were winning.

Almost done.

And then something changed .

I felt it before I saw it. A shift in the air. A sharp, metallic tang that didn’t belong, like the breath of a forge just before it ignites.

A scream went up near the riverbank.

“Back—GET BACK!”

I turned and saw it. One of the Renegades, barely standing, blood pouring from a slash across his ribs, lifted something from beneath his cloak. It was small and black, shimmering with etched violet lines. It didn’t look like anything forged by Leander hands. It looked… alien .

A weapon of some kind, just like the one Myccael had shown us during the meeting. It wasn't a gun or a blade. Whatever it was, it was worse. I didn’t have time to shout before it detonated.

There was no flash, no light, I only heard a sound.

Like air being sucked in , then compressed into a scream that tore through the marrow of my bones.

Before I had time to comprehend, a force the likes of which I had never experienced before hit me like a wall.

My feet left the ground, and my sword ripped from my hand.

I was flying, through air, through dust, through pain.

I slammed into the trunk of a karnel tree, the bark cracking beneath me, the breath knocked clean out of my lungs.

I hit the ground and didn’t move. I couldn't move. The other dragoons had suffered the same fate as me, all on the ground, groaning, unmoving.

Daphne?

Snyg, where was she?

The Renegades came back; they hadn't run away: they had gotten out of the way to let their terrible weapon lose.

And now they were coming back to finish us off.

I tried to get up, but I still couldn't move.

It felt like I was frozen, and in disbelief, I watched the Renegades return, watched them start slowly and methodically slicing the throats of my dragoons, one by one.

It was only a matter of time before they reached me.

And Daphne! Gods, I couldn't allow that to happen.

I wasn't a dragoon. I was a snygging vissigroth. I was better, stronger, and it was up to me to stop this bloodbath. I tried to move. Couldn’t.

One of them slit a dragoon’s throat two feet from me. Another stood above Korran, blade raised. Ney!

The word exploded from me, and rage followed. I forced my hands to work. My legs. I was wobbly, but on my feet. My muscles felt stiff, and everything inside me screamed. But I got up, swordless and bruised. It didn’t matter.

I was still Mallack, the Vissigroth of Hoerst, and the gods weren't done with me yet. I had been trained by the gods themselves and forged in blood.

I let out a roar that shattered the air, caught the attention of every bastard in earshot. The man about to slit Korran's throat stopped; they all turned.

I grinned. “Let’s finish this.”

I charged the one closest to Korran, throwing myself at him, slamming into his side like a meteor. We hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and steel. He snarled, but I was faster. Stronger. I drove my fist into his face, again and again, until he stopped moving.

Korran groaned. His expression was still that of utter astonishment, like he was frozen from the moment the alien weapon went off.

Only his eyes blazed with life and rage.

I didn't have time to care; more Renegades were coming.

Half a dozen of them circled me. They thought I was vulnerable because I didn't have my sword, or they thought the blast had broken me.

It hadn’t.

I tore a short blade from the corpse beside me and rose again. My stance widened, and I squared my shoulders. I gave them my smile—the one that made warriors think twice before advancing.

“Let’s finish this,” I said again, low and calm this time.

And I did.