Page 49 of Star Crossed Delta

MAK

S ilence stretched for a beat, thick and oppressive, before everything fractured.

Enzo moved.

Not as a man.

Not as anything close to human.

One second, he was standing over Ladik’s corpse, his features twisted in mock concern.

Next, his entire form convulsed, his skin shredding, dark tendrils bursting from beneath his flesh.

His bones cracked and elongated, his spine arching grotesquely until what had once been a man became sachem .

The transformation lasted no more than a pulse, but the moment his eyes, now glowing pits of the abyss, locked onto Kaal and Mak, the whole room shifted.

Kaal fired.

The bullets never found him.

Enzo was too fast.

A blur of shadow and teeth, a living void that moved betwixt spaces of reality. He ripped through the air, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat.

Mak just had a beat to turn, to brace for the impact that would rip him apart.

‘Saba?’ Kaal shouted.

She rose from the floor, disoriented.

She staggered, straightened, and the entire room shuddered.

Mak felt it before he saw it, the pulse of energy surging from her, the storm building at her core.

It pulled at the fabric of existence, bending space, warping the air. Her power erupted like a silent scream, distorting the light, twisting everything toward her.

Enzo paused mid-air, his monstrous form suspended, his limbs twitching as if the unseen had wrapped around him.

A choked, inhuman shriek tore from his throat as invisible forces sank into him, wrapping, twisting, and tearing him apart at the seams.

His body fractured. He didn’t bleed. He just ceased to exist.

One moment, he was there.

The next, he was nothing, shredded into the ether, devoured by the force Saba had willed into existence.

Shiloh gasped, her voice a strangled whisper. ‘What in Devansi hell, babe?’

Saba swayed where she stood, the last crackles of her power still rippling around her.

Her chest heaved, her eyes dilated, her hands trembling as she turned to face her sister.

‘I don’t have time to explain,’ she breathed. ‘It appears Mak awoke a latent lycan ability in me. No clue why or how it works.’

Then, as if remembering, she spun. She was kneeling beside Mak in a beat, her palms framing his face, her eyes searching, checking.

Mak gritted his teeth at the pain radiating from his shoulder.

‘It’s nothing,’ he rasped, but she was already pressing into the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

Her power had just annihilated something beyond comprehension, yet here she was, trembling for him. Mak caught her wrist, grounding her, forcing her to meet his gaze.

‘I’m alright,’ he murmured, his voice raw.

Her lips parted, something between relief and residual horror flickering in her eyes. Behind her, Shiloh was still staring, still frozen in disbelief.

Kaal slowly lowered his weapon, his mouth a grim line. The silence stretched.

No one in this room, not even Mak, would ever look at Saba the same way again.

Pain bloomed on Mak’s upper arm, and he gasped as he cradled her to his chest. He switched to his other hand and stared down at his sleeve, covered in blood.

‘Shit.’

Saba’s eyes cleared up, and she raised a hand to his chin. ‘You’ve been shot, ?arrum .’

‘I’m well aware, but of more importance, are you OK?’

She nodded, and they gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment.

‘You were reckless,’ he growled, his tone laced with frustration. ‘But freakin’ badass, too.’

‘ Fokk off, husband, I saved your life.’

Mak glared at her, then bent and captured her lips, so taken, so enthralled with all of her, relieved she was fine, uninjured by her ordeal.

When they came up for air, panting, Zolan had his arms around Shiloh, whispering into her ear, his hands running down her back in reassurance.

Kaal was speaking with Zolan’s crew, who’d now crowded into the room, handling their agitation with cold efficiency.

‘Enough,’ Mak’s cousin snarled at them. ‘Ladik is gone, a traitor to this syndicate, this clan. I hope none of you sided with him.’

They exchanged petulant glares and fell into a reticent silence.

‘Leave us,’ Zolan muttered, weary as fokk. ‘Talk among yourselves, and I want confessions from any of you who went along with this Solanite shit. Comply now and receive justice, or hide, and I will slice your necks myself.’

His threat was sufficient to put fear in some of his men’s faces.

‘Shan,’ Zolan growled to his brother, ‘You’re in charge. Get the hell out, lead the rest of the crew, and find out if we’ve any more traitors.’

Mak’s stone-faced younger cousin gave his sibling a nod and shepherded the remaining Sidanis, who exited the room, but not before shooting angry daggers at them.

Zolan’s drained gaze followed them.

He and Shiloh stood close, but Mak sensed the tension still simmering between the couple.

‘I need a first aid kit, please,’ Saba called out.

Zolan broke away from his woman, rummaged in a cupboard in the hallway, and returned, handing her a box as Mak shrugged off his shirt with a wince.

SABA

‘Pain level, one to ten?’ Kaal asked Mak as he knelt next to him.

‘Six,’ Mak murmured, but it was clear as day he was in a lot more agony than he was letting on.

‘No time to be a hero,’ Kaal growled.

Kaal and Saba found gloves in the kit and slid them on to examine the wound.

Kaal turned to Saba. ‘I’ve got plenty of field medicine experience. Just follow my lead.’

Saba nodded, trusting Kaal’s cold efficiency and calmness.

Kaal and Saba hustled fast.

Saba injected Mak with a strong painkiller.

Kaal cleaned the injury using vodka from Zolan’s bar to wash it out.

‘It’s a through and through,’ Kaal murmured after a beat. ‘He’ll live.’

‘ Fokk off,’ Mak groused at him.

Kaal’s gloved hand moved with swift care and focus as he worked, his movements precise and deliberate, crisscrossing white bandages over the deep gash on Mak’s shoulder.

‘Not going to be a fun recovery process,’ Mak muttered through gritted teeth, squirming as a nerve point set off.

Kaal glanced up at Mak. ‘You’re a warrior, brother. But you’re going to have to be still for a bit.’

Mak nodded, his face etched in pain, grinding and clenching his jaw.

‘Keep him still,’ Kaal commanded.

Saba managed to maintain Mak’s scapula immobilized as her eyes flitted to his.

He held her gaze, his face severe, lips pursed. ‘Care to share how you knocked Shan out and escaped with his weapon?’ he asked.

Saba refused to indulge his distraction. ‘Long story, my love. For another hour, later, today.’

Mak sucked his fangs and kept gritting until his arm was bandaged and in a sling.

Soon, he was good to go.

Saba stood back and packed away the kit as Mak stared down Zolan and Shiloh.

His eyes were dark and stormy.

There was no knowing what he’d do, what decision he’d make.

The revelation that Saba’s uncle instigated a plot against their two clans was beyond her.

Mak confirmed as much. ‘Appears the Solanites and Nightshade cult have been plotting at the behest of Tewa to stir up a battle between Zolan and me, a war of attrition. He wanted to create a vacuum of power that would allow him to control both you and Shiloh and, therefore, leadership of the Order.’

‘Fokk him in particular,’ Saba snarled, trembling at the thought of what she might have lost today.

Mak perceived her terror and reached his good hand for hers, gripping it tightly after giving her a reassuring squeeze.

She relaxed, sensing he would be fair in trying to make it all right.

Zolan scrutinized him with a guarded expression.

He and Shiloh stood close, his arms around her. Her face was ashen, her stance stiff, strain still simmering between them.

Her hands rubbed her tummy as she consoled both herself and the child growing inside her.

Pregnancy suited her, Saba thought, as a stab of longing for a baby of her own went through her.

It was an unexpected sentiment at such a time as this.

She focused back on her sister. She’d had so much to work through in just a few minutes, and Saba was swamped with empathy for her.

‘Let’s talk,’ Zolan invited, his voice hoarse and broken.

‘Let’s,’ Mak murmured.

With a wince, he slipped his hand from Saba’s and sank into an armchair. He fixed his leonine gaze on Zolan, whom Saba was now hugging close. The pair united in their worry about how Mak might react.

‘You’ve lost control of your stronghold,’ Mak growled.

Zolan bristled. ‘I was focused on helping my people survive. I had no idea a fanatic group was working against me and us from within my trusted circle,’ he snarled.

‘So you knew nothing of these so-called Solanites? Tell me the truth. Or so help me, I will raze every Sidani bastion to the ground.’

Zolan unclasped himself from Shiloh and settled into a chair across from Mak. Where he leaned forward, hands clasped, eyes defeated. ‘I did not.’

‘Kaal,’ Mak clipped, twisting to find his brother. ‘Get -,’

‘On it already,’ Kaal murmured.

He headed to his bag and pulled out a comm device, tapping away with furious speed.

‘I’m in your systems,’ he warned Zolan, glancing up for a brief second.

Zolan nodded, his face still weary. ‘We can spend time warring between us, which is what our enemies want, by the sounds of it. The fact is, these so-called Solanites are coming after you and me. What shall we do about it?’

Kaal broke his silence. ‘Mak, if we can’t trust Zolan, who can we turn to? We’ve been fighting this war for decades, and it’s time for a change. We need to join forces and forge a new future.’

Mak’s eyes narrowed as he considered his brother’s words.

‘Seems like the best move is to band together,’ he murmured to the Sidan ?arkhan . ‘What resources can you bring to the table?’

Zolan shook his head. ‘I’m wiped. My bank balance is pitiful because we have nothing to barter with in the flotilla. I’ve been further drained trying to get my men to leave the dark trade business to go clean. My crew is scattered, and my stronghold is compromised. I have nothing left to offer.’