Page 10 of Stolen By the Wraiths (Rift Wraiths #1)

S erak's voice on the comm was a blade, severing us from the heat of the moment. The message was blunt: Vain's people were closing in, far quicker than we'd planned.

"The timing can't be coincidental," Ressh said, pulling on his shirt. His movements were fluid, economical, the predator re-emerging from the lover. "Not after what happened with Crask."

"You think she reported the theft?" I asked, my fingers fumbling with the fastening on my jacket. My body was still humming, a live wire of satisfaction and want.

"Or someone noticed her behavior afterward. Either way, we're blown."

The haze of sexual need evaporated, replaced by the ice-cold clarity of a mission gone wrong.

The intimacy we'd shared was a lifetime ago; now, there was only survival.

My mind snapped back into the familiar grooves of risk assessment, my hands suddenly steady as I checked the charge on my plasma pistol. This, I knew. This was home.

"Go," I whispered, and we were out the door, melting into the guest quarter's service corridors.

The station's klaxons began to scream, a cacophony of lockdown alerts that echoed off the polished metal walls.

Red emergency lights pulsed, painting everything in a bloody, urgent glow.

We were no longer guests; we were fugitives.

I took the lead, my datapad in hand, my mind racing through the facility schematics I had memorized.

I could smell the change in Ressh's scent behind me—the warm spice of him sharpening to something with the tang of ozone, of a storm gathering.

It was a promise of violence against anyone who stood in our way, and it was deeply reassuring.

"Main transit corridors will be sealed," I said, my voice low as we moved through a network of maintenance tunnels. The air was thick with the smell of lubricants and recycled air. "We need to stay in the service conduits. It'll be slower, but more secure."

He didn't argue. He simply moved behind me, his larger body a solid presence at my back, his senses sweeping our surroundings for threats I couldn't perceive. His absolute trust was a tangible thing, a weight and a weapon.

We bypassed the first two security checkpoints with ease, my intrusion software slicing through the station's commercial-grade protocols. But as we neared the lower levels, the security architecture became more robust.

"Military-grade encryption," I muttered, pressing myself against a conduit wall as I worked on a junction box. "They're protecting the docking bays like a military asset."

"They're protecting their investment," Ressh growled, his hand resting on my shoulder. The simple contact sent a wave of warmth and strength through me, chasing away the chill of the hunt.

A patrol of four guards rounded the corner ahead, their movements too precise for standard station security. They wore body armor and carried military-spec pulse rifles. Mercenaries. Vain's people.

Before I could react, Ressh moved. He was a blur of motion, closing the distance in the narrow corridor with impossible speed.

The first guard went down with a choked gasp, a single, precise strike to the throat disabling him before he could raise his weapon.

The others turned, but they were too slow.

Ressh used the first man's body as a shield, his movements a brutal, efficient dance of violence.

He disarmed one, broke the arm of another, and had the last one pinned against the wall before any of them could fire a shot.

I watched, my heart hammering against my ribs, a dark thrill coiling in my gut. This was the predator I was choosing, the Rift Wraith in his element. His fury was a beautiful, terrifying thing, and it was all aimed at protecting me.

He finished neutralizing the patrol, his breathing barely elevated. He turned back to me, his amber eyes blazing with an intensity that made my core clench. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "Nice work."

His lips quirked in a dangerous smile. "They were in my way."

We continued on, the encounter sharpening our focus. The station was now fully locked down. Heavy blast doors had sealed the primary transit routes, and the service corridors were becoming a maze.

"This way," I said, pointing to a ventilation shaft. "It's a straight shot to the sub-level that services the commercial docking bays. It'll be tight."

"Lead on," he said, his trust absolute.

The shaft was cramped and dark, the metal scraping against my clothes.

Ressh moved behind me, his presence filling the confined space.

I could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the unique scent of him.

The intimacy of the small space, combined with the quiet intensity of his watchfulness, was a potent distraction.

We dropped out of the shaft into a cavernous maintenance hub, the air filled with the roar of the station's primary life support systems. Catwalks crisscrossed the space, suspended over a dizzying drop.

And standing between us and the exit corridor were eight more of Vain's soldiers, setting up a fortified checkpoint.

They hadn't seen us yet. We were hidden in the shadows of a massive power conduit.

"They've locked down the direct path to the docking ring," I whispered, my mind racing. "That's a heavy-duty barricade. We can't sneak past that."

"Then we go through them," Ressh said, his voice a low growl.

I saw the decision settle in his eyes—not recklessness, but a cold, calculated assessment. But this wasn't a narrow corridor. It was an open space with multiple firing angles.

"They have the high ground and superior numbers," I countered, my tactical mind clicking into gear. "A direct assault is suicide."

"Not an assault," he said, his eyes scanning the hub. "A diversion."

Before I could ask what he meant, he looked at me, his gaze intense. "I'm going to draw their fire. When I move, you run. Don't stop. Don't look back. Get to the docking bay. Malrik will be waiting."

"No," I said instantly, a cold knot of fear tightening in my stomach. "Absolutely not. We get out together, or we don't get out at all."

"Alix—"

"I am not leaving you," I snarled, my own protective fury rising to meet his. "You are mine , and I don't abandon what's mine. We find another way. Together."

The raw possessiveness in my voice made his eyes widen. A flicker of something—fierce, savage pride—crossed his face before being suppressed. He had wanted a partner, an equal. He had gotten one.

"Alright," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "Together." He pointed towards a series of massive coolant pipes running along the ceiling. "If you can cause a rupture in that primary line, the pressure release will create enough chaos for us to move."

I looked at the pipe, then at the control panel on the far side of the room, separated from us by open ground. "I can't get to the controls from here without being spotted."

"You won't have to," he said, pulling a small, heavy object from his boot. A high-density kinetic charge. "I can make the hole. You just need to be ready to run the second it blows."

He was going to shoot a coolant pipe in a room full of volatile machinery. It was insane. It was brilliant.

"On my mark," he said, his focus narrowing on his target.

I braced myself, my eyes locked on the exit corridor on the far side of the checkpoint.

I watched the steady set of his shoulders, the absolute certainty in his hands as he aimed.

The world seemed to slow down, the roar of the machinery fading to a dull hum.

There was only the target, the mission, and the unwavering presence of the man beside me.

"Now," he breathed.