Page 10

AVA

" S tupid bastard," I mutter under my breath, shoving aside a leafy branch that snaps back and slaps my shoulder. "Thinks he can just push me around."

The jungle doesn’t care. It hums and chirps and growls all around me, alive and oblivious to my rising frustration.

Vines snag at my boots, roots threaten to twist my ankles, and the heat is a living thing—wrapping itself around me, dragging claws across my spine, making every breath feel like drinking steam.

My uniform is soaked through, clinging to me like a second skin, sweat dripping down my neck, collecting in the creases of my armor.

I break through the last tangle of underbrush and into the clearing that marks our pathetic excuse for a camp—and freeze.

He’s gone.

The fire’s burned low, just embers now, and there’s no sign of movement, no hulking silhouette looming nearby, no glint of crimson eyes watching me from the trees. Nothing. Just an eerie stillness that wasn’t here before.

My stomach twists. That bastard. That reaper bastard.

“He left,” I say aloud, the words hollow as they leave my mouth. “He really fucking left.”

I stand there for a beat too long, letting the silence press against my ears. My fists clench. Anger floods in first, fast and hot. Then fear—quieter, meaner—slips in beneath it like a knife under ribs.

“He left,” I repeat, trying to make it sound angry again. It doesn’t.

I storm across the camp, grabbing what supplies I can—what’s left, anyway. The cracked water canister. The melted ration pack. The jagged hunk of metal I’ve been pretending is a weapon. My fingers move fast, out of habit and desperation. I don’t have a plan, just a need to do something. Anything.

I won’t sit around like a helpless target waiting to be eaten alive.

“And what has he done?” I snap to no one, jamming the ration pack into a salvaged sling. “Killed something? Great job.” Sarcasm drips off the words, bitter and sharp. “Big fucking hero.”

My eyes scan the treeline again, half-expecting him to come swaggering back, smirking like the arrogant asshole he is. But the jungle only sways in the thick breeze, whispering secrets I can’t hear. He’s really not coming back.

Fine. Then I’ll survive without him.

“Ava!”

The voice slices through the humid jungle like a blade. I freeze mid-step, breath catching in my throat. That’s Kairon. His voice. Hoarse. Frantic.

“Help me!”

My pulse spikes. I whip around, searching the wall of foliage for any sign of him. "Kairon?" My voice comes out sharp, too high, strung tight with disbelief.

“Please!”

The desperation in his voice isn’t something I’ve heard before. Not from him. Not from the arrogant, smug bastard who sneers at everything I do. It sounds raw—like he’s hurt. Really hurt.

I hesitate, my gut twisting into knots. He’s the one who called me weak not two hours ago. Said I wouldn’t last out here on my own. So what the hell is he doing calling for my help?

Trap, my instincts whisper. Every red flag in my training flares up. You don’t go chasing strange cries into alien terrain.

But...

But that voice doesn’t sound like it’s faking. It sounds like pain. Like desperation.

Grinding my teeth, I move. I shove past low branches and glowing fronds, ignoring the thorns that snag at my uniform.

The foliage thickens the deeper I go, casting strange shadows from the pale morning light struggling through the treetops.

Each step is harder, the ground turning soft and sticky beneath my boots.

I fight to keep my balance, ears straining.

“Kairon!” I call out again. “Where are you?”

No answer. Just the faint echo of my own voice and the rustle of my frantic movement.

Then, again—closer.

“Ava... please... help...”

That damn voice. It pulls at something deep inside me. Not trust—God, no—but urgency. Fury. He dragged me into this. Got my ship attacked, got me stranded. If he’s bleeding out somewhere, the least I can do is shove it in his face.

Branches whip against my cheeks, stinging, but I press forward. "You better not be fucking with me, Kairon," I mutter under my breath. "If this is your idea of a joke, I swear to God?—"

My foot sinks into a patch of mud and I wrench it free with a wet squelch. The jungle narrows ahead, trees packed close like soldiers standing at attention. My breath hitches. The light here is dimmer. Quieter. Wrong.

Still, the voice comes again. “Ava... help me... please...”

No more questions. I run.

The jungle floor vanishes beneath me. One moment, I'm pushing through dense foliage; the next, I'm plummeting into a hidden pit. I hit the ground hard, the impact jarring every bone in my body. Pain radiates through my limbs as I scramble to my feet, disoriented and gasping for breath.

A guttural growl rips through the thick air, so deep and resonant it rattles in my chest like thunder rolling low through bone. My blood chills, breath caught mid-inhale. I whip around just in time to see the shadows ripple and shift—and then it steps out.

The creature is a nightmare stitched from jungle rot and death.

Towering, at least eight feet tall, its limbs are grotesquely long, gnarled like the roots of ancient trees.

Skin mottled in shifting shades of green, brown, and black—perfect camouflage—glistens wetly in the low light, as though slicked in its last kill.

A massive chest rises and falls with slow, deliberate breaths, each exhale a rumble that sounds more like hunger than fatigue.

And its eyes—fuck, those eyes—bulging and pale, glowing with a sickly bioluminescence that zeroes in on me like a predator savoring the last inch of the hunt.

I stagger back, slipping on a patch of moss, heart pounding so loudly I can’t hear anything else.

Instinct has me reaching for a weapon I don’t have—my fingers scrape through empty air, grasping at nothing.

I left the camp unarmed. I wandered out here with no blade, no gun, not even a sharp stick. Stupid, reckless, dead girl walking.

The creature lunges.

I scream and try to dodge, but it’s too fast, an avalanche of limbs and weight crashing into me.

I hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from my lungs in a wheeze.

Clawed fingers clamp onto my shoulders, pinning me like an insect on a display board.

The pain blooms white-hot, flashing through my nerves like wildfire.

I twist, kick, slam my fists against its arms—useless. It's like striking rock.

Its stench hits me next. A gut-churning blend of wet earth, rotting meat, and something chemical—like acid and decay.

My eyes water. My stomach turns. I can’t breathe, can’t move, and I know—this is it.

I’m going to die here. Torn apart in a fucking alien jungle because I was too proud, too stubborn to admit I couldn’t survive alone.

Then it opens its mouth.

No snarl. No roar.

"Ava... help me..."

My heart drops into my stomach.

It’s Kairon’s voice. Distorted, watery, but unmistakably his—rough, deep, and laced with the same mocking edge he always uses when he’s trying to get under my skin.

But there’s desperation now too. Pleading.

It’s coming from inside the creature. The sound of his voice twisting through that hideous mouth is so wrong it short-circuits every rational thought I have.

It used him to get to me.

The bastard lured me in like prey.

Realization hits like a punch to the chest. My ears ring with it. My vision blurs.

I scream—not just from fear, but from fury. Rage at myself for falling for it. Rage at this thing for using his voice. Rage at Kairon for making me care enough to come running.

The creature presses down harder, claws digging deeper into my flesh. I writhe, bones grinding against the dirt, the weight of it crushing the breath out of me. Darkness claws at the corners of my vision, a velvet shroud trying to drag me under. I can’t go out like this. Not like this.

I fight, but I already know it’s not enough.