Page 12 of Surrendering Her Heart (Red Planet Fated Mates #10)

11

AVA

“ A va. It is time.”

I snap my eyes open and sit straight up. Adrenaline pumping, hands curling into fists as I jump off the bunk and land in a semi-crouch, looking quickly around. Zamis steps out of my way, hands raised in front himself with his palms out.

I let out a shaky breath and lower my fists, forcing my hands to relax. I shake my head, rub my eyes, then look around. There are a lot of people milling around, apparently aimless, but there is a line that is making its way out the main door. Blinking to clear my sight, I see that that line is being armed.

“Time?” I ask, looking back to Zamis.

“Yes,” he says. “The Order is inbound.”

“How many?” I ask, trying to detangle my hair with my fingers.

I don’t remember falling asleep. This transition to being wide awake and under imminent threat makes me feel completely out of sorts. My fingers hit a particularly tough knot. I pull the strand around to see what I’m doing, but a moment later, I realize he didn’t answer.

I stop working the knot and look at him. His frown says everything I could ever need to know and everything that I don’t want to. My stomach drops, hitting the floor and leaving a sick feeling in its wake.

“How many Zamis?” I repeat.

He shakes his head.

“We will do our best,” he says.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and drop the strand of hair. The last thing in the world that’s going to matter is if I have a knot in my hair or not.

“Right,” I say, gritting my teeth, rolling my neck and shoulders, then meeting his eyes with all the determination that I can muster. “Let’s do this.”

Zamis nods once, his expression unreadable, and turns toward the exit. I follow, shoving away the lingering haze of sleep. My pulse pounds in my ears as we step into the main tunnel, where chaos has sharpened into grim purpose.

Weapons are distributed with quiet efficiency. Zmaj and humans alike murmur in hushed voices, checking gear, fastening makeshift armor, preparing for what’s coming. Nyanna strides over, her face set like stone.

“You’re up. Good. We need every able body we’ve got.”

She hands me one of the very few rifles we have. I take it automatically, the familiar weight settling against my palms. I lift and check the charge, the safety, and its readiness before slinging the strap and settling it on my back.

“How long?” I ask.

“They’ll be here before sunrise.” Her gaze flicks toward Zamis, unreadable. “Scouts confirmed it an hour ago. This is it.”

I nod, inhaling slowly. There’s no time to second-guess, no room for hesitation. Zamis steps closer, his presence a steady heat at my side.

“You stay near me,” he rumbles.

It’s not a request. I lift a brow.

“You worried about me?” His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t deny it. I huff out a breath, forcing a smirk to cover the nerves crawling up my spine. “I can take care of myself.”

His golden eyes lock onto mine, something unreadable flickering in their depths. I don’t look away. For a moment, I swear I can hear his hearts beating. Steady, unshakable, but I know it’s impossible There’s way too much noise, but more than hearing them, I feel them and their steady rhythm.

“I know,” he says quietly. “But I am taking care of you anyway.”

Damn him. I swallow against the sudden tightness in my throat and look away.

Nyanna clears her throat, dragging us both back to reality. “Positions. Now.”

The command ripples through the cavern, sending bodies into motion. I tighten my grip on the rifle, fall into step with the others, and force my breath to steady. The Order is coming.

And this time, we stand and fight.

I grip my rifle tighter as I jog toward the outer defenses, Zamis close beside me. The entrance to the outpost is open, people pouring through. The closer we get, the louder a low thrumming sound that sets my teeth on edge.

“What is that sound?” I ask Zamis.

“Defensive turrets,” he says. “It is doubtful those will last long, but they’ll use them while they can.”

“Why won’t they last?” I ask.

“Resources,” he says, shaking his head. “I was a quartermaster before I left the Order, I am familiar, in general with all that the Order has at its disposal. The crystals that power the turrets are very rare as they were imported from off-planet. That supply line was cut at the Devastation.”

We join the line of defenders making their way through the bottleneck of the outpost entrance. People filing out, probably to theirs, or our death. Knowing that I’m probably going to die doesn’t bother me.

I don’t advertise it, but Nyanna and the others know I was a marine back on the ship. I don’t want anyone to know because I know what would follow that reveal. They’d look at me with reproach. Why didn’t I and the rest of the marines protect them when those fucks attacked? Look how many people died? How is it fair I lived when so many didn’t?

And the truth is, I don’t know. We tried. I fought those bastards until I was ordered to retreat. I saw what they were doing. Capturing humans and dragging them off. Worse even. All those memories I keep locked away, but now, marching back into battle against a different batch of alien assholes, they come flooding back.

The acrid smoke filling the ship halls. The alarms blaring. People screaming in pain, fear or… worse. The wet splash when I blasted one of them who was having his way with a poor girl. I ordered her to an escape pod, but she didn’t land with us if she landed at all. My stomach gurgles, churning acid that tries to climb my throat.

Zamis’ presence is steadying. Cool radiates from his scales and his calmness keeps any hints of my own anxiety at bay. A loud thwoosh echoes down the tunnel as we pass through the door of the outpost and into the tunnel. I, along with almost everyone else, jump in surprise, but not Zamis. Him, he grunts and nods.

“The turrets?” I ask.

“Yes.”

I nod, moving faster as the tunnel widens and the crowd thins out. When we reach the crevasse that serves as an entrance to the mountain retreat, I see them. Several transports rush across the sand dunes towards us.

The low thrumming of the turrets escalates into a deafening whine, and then fire.

A streak of light cuts through the air, slamming into the lead transport. A shuddering explosion blooms against the dawn, sending burning debris spiraling toward the dunes below. Another transport jerks sideways as a second blast shreds its left engine, sending it into a violent, uncontrolled spin before crashing in a fireball. A shout goes up from our ranks. Relief, maybe even hope.

Then the guns stutter. A horrible, mechanical click. Then another. The turrets fall silent.

“No, no, no,” someone breathes.

I don’t need to ask why. The crystals, just like Zamis said. They’re spent. And the last two transports are still coming, engines howling, dropping fast. Zamis curses under his breath.

“Prepare to defend. Positions! NOW!” Nyanna’s voice cuts through the shock.

The Order’s ships land a short distance away and Zmaj pour out. They’re armed with lochabers but a few also have guns. Those with the guns kneel and the first shots crack through the air.

I sprint for cover, diving behind a jagged outcropping of rock as the first wave of fire streaks past. The ground beside me explodes in a shower of dust and stone. Zamis drops beside me, his tail flicking sharply.

“Stay close,” he growls.

I don’t argue.

The battle has begun.