Page 22 of Snared (The Legion: Savage Lands Sector #8)

Phil extended his vines throughout the bunker and beyond, creating a web of awareness that would alert us to any approach. I felt the jungle shift around us—not just physically, but consciously. It was paying attention now, focusing its vast intelligence on our small corner of its domain.

Minutes stretched into an hour. The bunker’s recycled air grew staler. Sweat beaded on my forehead, not just from the heat but from the tension of waiting. Phil remained perfectly still beside me, only the faintest pulsing along his vine-body indicating his vigilance.

Then he hissed—a sound I’d never heard from him before. A warning.

“He’s close?” I whispered.

Phil tightened around my wrist. Yes. Very.

I crouched lower, barely breathing, as the jungle around us responded to the intruder.

Snare vines slithered silently beneath moss, their usual lazy undulation replaced by purposeful positioning.

Spore tendrils thickened the air, ready to release their defensive toxins.

Even the canopy darkened, like the world held its breath.

My message continued to play, bouncing from speaker to speaker, creating the illusion that I was constantly moving. “Come find me, you piece of space trash,” my voice taunted from somewhere far to the left, then suddenly from behind the bunker, then from deeper in the jungle.

The first indication of his approach was subtle—a shift in the air pressure, a faint metallic scent that didn’t belong in the organic richness of the jungle. Then a shadow passed across the bunker’s entrance, hesitating just beyond the threshold.

I caught just a glimpse of him through the narrow gap in the console where I hid—tall and gaunt, with that silvery skin that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

His armor was battered but advanced, covered in tech that pulsed with unearthly energy.

Those black eyes swept the interior of the bunker, searching, calculating.

“Human,” he hissed, his voice like gravel over metal. “I know you’re here. I can smell you. Tell me what you know.”

I held perfectly still. Phil tensed against my skin, ready.

Vaskari took another step inside, weapons raised—some kind of energy pistol in one hand, a curved blade in the other. “The Legion dog has kept you as a pet, hasn’t he? Tell me where he’s hidden the artifacts, and perhaps I’ll let you live.”

My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could hear it, but I forced myself to remain motionless. Just one more step. Just one more...

He crossed the threshold fully, armor clicking against the metal floor of the bunker.

And when the bastard finally committed—armor and bad attitude fully inside my trap—he didn’t get a chance to blink. The vines struck. Not to kill. Just to disable.

Phil moved first, launching from my side with astonishing speed to wrap around Vaskari’s weapon arm. The fugitive snarled, slashing with his blade, but more vines burst through the floor grating—thick, powerful tendrils that snared his legs, his other arm, even coiling around his neck.

The jungle, it seemed, had been waiting for this moment. Had been preparing for it since I formulated the plan. The vines worked with coordinated precision, disarming Vaskari and pinning him spread-eagled against the bunker wall.

He thrashed and cursed in a language my ears couldn’t process, but the translation came to me anyway through my connection with Phil—threats, bargaining, then desperate pleas as he realized the vines weren’t just restraining him, they were tightening.

“Not too tight,” I said aloud to the jungle. “We need him alive for Lor.”

The pressure eased slightly, though Vaskari remained securely pinned. His black eyes found me as I emerged from my hiding place, narrowing with hatred and something like disbelief.

“You,” he spat. “Impossible. You’re just a primitive Terran.”

I straightened to my full height—not terribly impressive compared to most aliens I’d met, but I made up for it with attitude.

“Yeah, well, this primitive Terran just kicked your ass.” I stepped closer, careful to stay out of range should he somehow break free. “With a little help from my friends.”

Phil curled around my ankle, a visible sign of our alliance. The other vines pulsed with what felt like pride.

“The jungle belongs to no one,” Vaskari hissed. “Its power was meant to be harvested, not wasted on your Legion pet.”

“Funny thing about sentient ecosystems,” I replied, cocking my head. “They tend to have opinions about being harvested.”

As if to emphasize my point, the vines tightened briefly around his throat. A warning.

I smiled at him, channeling all the confidence of a woman who’d just outsmarted an interstellar criminal with nothing but a jury-rigged speaker system and some helpful plants.

“Now,” I said pleasantly, “let’s wait for Lor to come home, shall we? I think you two have a lot to talk about.”

Lor appeared like vengeance made flesh. One moment the bunker entrance was empty, the next he filled it completely—golden eyes ablaze, claws fully extended, every muscle coiled tight with lethal intent.

Then he froze, taking in the scene before him: me, standing tall, and Vaskari trussed up like a Christmas turkey in a web of pulsing vines.

The look on his face was worth every moment of danger. Shock, disbelief, and something else—something that looked suspiciously like awe—transformed his usually stoic features.

“Miri,” he said, voice raw. “You—what did you do?”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance despite the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. “Lured him. Ghost-style.”

Vaskari snarled from his vine prison, silver face contorted with rage. “The human is more dangerous than you claimed, Reaper. A witch who commands the jungle.”

Lor ignored him, eyes never leaving mine. “You were supposed to stay in the shelter.”

“Yeah, well,” I gestured at our captive, “I got bored.”

Lor blinked, processing. Then his attention snapped to Vaskari with such focused intensity that I almost pitied the fugitive. Almost.

“How did you know to lure him here?” Lor’s eyes refocused on me, sharp with curiosity.

“I’m a cryptid hunter, remember? Most of my job is figuring out where monsters hide and how to draw them out.

” I gestured to the comms setup I’d rigged.

“Sound travels weirdly in these tunnels. I bounced my voice all over, making him think I was moving, leading him straight back here. Classic ghost hunting misdirection.”

“Ghost hunting,” Lor repeated, the term clearly unfamiliar but the concept registering nonetheless.

“Plus,” I added, nodding toward Phil, “I had help. Turns out when you’re neurally linked to an entire sentient ecosystem, setting traps becomes a whole lot easier.”

Lor’s expression shifted—concern still lingered in the tense set of his shoulders, but pride had overtaken the anger in his eyes. He reached out, trailing gentle claws along my cheek in a touch so tender it made my breath catch.

“You could have been killed,” he said, but there was no real rebuke in his tone. Just wonder.

“So could you,” I countered. “That’s why I didn’t wait. The jungle showed me what was happening—how he was trying to lure you away while his weapon activated. I couldn’t just sit and hope you figured it out in time.”

Vaskari made a disgusted sound. “Primitives. Talking to plants. The jungle is a resource to be exploited, not a partner to be coddled.”

Lor didn’t even look at him. His focus remained entirely on me, those amber eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my skin flush hot.

“You are not what I expected,” he said finally.

“Good,” I replied, unable to suppress a grin. “I’d hate to be predictable.”

His answering smile—rare and precious—transformed his fierce features. “We must secure the weapon. The countdown?—”

“Already on it,” I interrupted, pointing to where Phil had extended several vines into the bunker’s command console.

“Phil’s transmitting the location to your Legion friends using the emergency frequencies.

The atmospheric interference is clearing, and your signal is getting through. Backup’s on the way.”

Lor stared at me for a long moment. Then, without warning, he pulled me against him, one powerful arm curling around my waist while his other hand tangled in my hair. His mouth found mine in a kiss that was equal parts possession and reverence.

“You are magnificent,” he growled against my lips. “Brilliant and reckless and perfect.”

“Does this mean you’re not mad about me leaving the shelter?” I asked when I could breathe again.

His tail flicked once, betraying his lingering concern. “I am... reconsidering my definition of ‘safe.’” He glanced at Phil, who was still smugly connected to the comms system. “It seems you have guardians beyond just me.”

“I told you,” I said, resting my head against his chest, listening to the powerful thud of his heart. “I’m not helpless. I’ve faced down Mothman. This guy was amateur hour.”

Vaskari snarled at the insult, but the vines tightened around him, cutting off whatever retort he might have made.

Lor’s arms tightened around me, his body relaxing incrementally as the immediate danger faded. Above us, the bunker’s alert systems pinged—incoming transmission from Legion command, confirmation that a response team was en route.

“What happens now?” I asked, not moving from the circle of his embrace.

“Now,” Lor rumbled, his voice vibrating through me where we touched, “we secure the prisoner, neutralize the weapon, and wait for extraction.”

“And then?” I pressed, looking up at him.

His golden eyes softened. “And then I take you on that date I promised. The one with the... Olive Garden.” He pronounced the restaurant name like it was an exotic alien concept, which I supposed to him, it was.

I laughed, the sound echoing in the small space. Phil curled around both our ankles, binding us together in a living embrace that felt right in a way I couldn’t explain.

“Deal,” I said. “But I get to pick the second date. Something with fewer breadsticks and more adventure.”

“With you,” Lor said, pressing his forehead to mine, “I expect nothing less.”

Vaskari watched us with those black, fathomless eyes, his expression a mixture of disgust and grudging realization. He’d underestimated us—not just Lor, but me. Us together. And the jungle that had chosen us both.

I smiled, suddenly feeling more at home in this alien world than I ever had on Earth.

“My mate is terrifying,” Lor repeated, his voice filled with unmistakable pride.

“Damn right,” I said, and leaned against Phil’s side like a queen on her throne.