Page 16

CHAPTER 16

ORIYN

T he shuttle hums beneath my feet, the vibration of the engines a steady thrum that matches the pulse of my blood. Around me, a dozen Vakutan shock troops sit in silence, their scales glinting faintly in the dim light. The air is thick with anticipation, the kind that comes before a fight you’ve been waiting for. It’s been too long since I’ve been in the thick of it, and my muscles ache for the release of combat. But first, Cora. Always Cora.

“Approaching St. Louis airspace,” the pilot’s voice crackles over the comms. “Cloak is holding steady.”

I lean forward, my claws flexing against the armrests. “Keep it that way. We’re not here to make a scene—yet.”

The shuttle lurches suddenly, and I’m thrown back into my seat. “What the hell was that?”

“Commercial jet,” the pilot snaps, his voice tight. “Came out of nowhere. Had to adjust course.”

I frown, my ridges pulling low over my eyes. “Another one?”

“Yes, sir. And another—shit!” The shuttle jerks again, this time hard enough to send one of the troops sprawling. “They’re everywhere. It’s like they’re being rerouted right into us.”

My jaw tightens. “The Grolgath. They’ve broken our cloak.”

The pilot glances back at me, his yellow eyes wide. “How do you know that?”

“Because I taught that tactic at Brakkus Academy.” My voice is a low growl. “They’re using human aircraft as weapons. Clever bastards.”

The shuttle shudders again, and the pilot’s hands fly over the controls. “I can’t keep this up forever. If we hit one of these things?—”

“You won’t.” I stand, my head nearly brushing the ceiling. “Evasive maneuvers. Keep us in the air until we’re clear of the city.”

The troops exchange glances, their scales shifting in unease. One of them, a younger Vakutan with blue scales, speaks up. “Sir, if they’ve broken our cloak, they’ll know we’re coming. This could be a trap.”

“Of course it’s a trap.” I bare my teeth in something that’s not quite a smile. “But we’re not here to play their game. We’re here to win it.”

The shuttle jerks again, and the pilot curses under his breath. “Another one. They’re swarming us.”

“Then stop complaining and fly,” I snap. “Cora’s waiting, and I’m not about to let a bunch of overgrown lizards keep me from her.”

The troops chuckle, the tension easing just enough to keep them sharp. I settle back into my seat, my claws digging into the armrests. The shuttle weaves and dips, the pilot’s skill the only thing keeping us from becoming a fiery crater in the Missouri countryside. My mind races, calculating the odds, the risks, the moves the Grolgath might make next. But beneath it all, there’s one thought that keeps me grounded, focused, alive.

Cora.

The shuttle dips low, skimming just twenty feet above the ground, the Mississippi River a shimmering ribbon below us. The pilot’s claws are tight on the controls, his scales flickering with tension. I can feel the hum of the engines vibrating through my chest, a low growl that matches my own.

“Keep it steady,” I bark, my voice cutting through the tense silence. “We’re not out of this yet.”

“Trying, sir,” the pilot snaps, his yellow eyes darting across the console. “But the Grolgath are rerouting every drone in the area. It’s like they’re trying to—shit!”

A flash of movement catches my eye, and I turn just in time to see a recreational drone slam into the shuttle’s air intake. The impact jolts the entire vessel, and I’m thrown sideways, my shoulder slamming into the bulkhead. The engines sputter, a sickening whine filling the cabin.

“We’re going down!” the pilot shouts, his voice tight with panic. “Brace for impact!”

“Not in the city,” I growl, lunging for the controls. “Take us into the river. Now.”

The pilot doesn’t argue. He yanks the shuttle hard to the left, and we plummet toward the water. The Mississippi rushes up to meet us, a dark, churning abyss. For a moment, everything is chaos—the deafening roar of the engines, the hiss of water as it engulfs the shuttle, the metallic groan of the hull bending under the pressure.

Then, silence. The shuttle settles on the riverbed, the water lapping against the windows. The crew is silent, their breaths shallow, their scales muted in the dim light filtering through the water.

“Damage report,” I bark, my voice cutting through the stillness.

“Severe,” the pilot says, his claws dancing over the console. “Air intake’s shot. Propulsion system’s offline. We’re not going anywhere until we repair it.”

“How long?”

“Hours,” he admits, his voice tight. “Maybe more.”

Hours. The word hits me like a punch to the gut. Hours sprawled on the riverbed while Cora’s out there, exposed, vulnerable. My claws dig into the armrest, the metal groaning under the pressure. Every instinct screams at me to tear open the shuttle and swim to shore, consequences be damned. But I can’t. Not yet.

“Get to work,” I snap, my voice low and dangerous. “I want this shuttle operational in half that time.”

The crew springs into action, their voices a low murmur as they assess the damage and start repairs. I stay rooted to my seat, my mind racing. Cora’s meeting with Luhr. The Grolgath’s poison. Their plan to kill me—or worse, recruit her. Every minute we’re stuck here is a minute she’s in danger.

“Sir,” the blue-scaled trooper says, his voice hesitant. “What if the Grolgath come for us while we’re down here?”

“Let them,” I growl, my teeth bared. “They’ll regret it.”

But the words feel hollow. The Grolgath are clever, resourceful. They’ve already proven that. And Cora… Cora’s alone. I glance at the console, at the flickering lights and sputtering readouts. The shuttle’s a tomb, and I’m trapped inside, powerless to protect the one person I can’t lose.

“Hurry,” I mutter under my breath, my claws flexing. “Damn it, hurry.”

I can’t wait. Every second I’m down here is another second Cora’s in danger. The shuttle’s a tomb, the water pressing in on all sides, and my body vibrates with the need to act. I rise from my seat, the metal groaning beneath my weight. “Load me into the torpedo tube.”

The pilot’s head snaps around, his yellow eyes wide. “Sir, that’s suicide. Even for you. The strain will?—”

“I’ll survive,” I cut him off, my voice sharp enough to silence the room. “I have to. Cora needs me.”

The crew hesitates, their scales flickering with unease. The blue-scaled trooper steps forward, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “Sir, with respect, we need you here. If you?—”

“Cora needs me,” I repeat, my tone leaving no room for argument. “Now, load me in. That’s an order.”

They move, quick and efficient, but the tension in the air is thick enough to cut. I stride to the torpedo tube, my claws clicking against the metal floor. The tube is narrow, barely wide enough for my bulk, and the scent of oil and coolant burns my nose. I wedge myself inside, my scales scraping against the walls, and the crew seals the hatch behind me. The darkness is absolute, the only sound my own breathing and the faint hum of the shuttle’s systems.

“Ready,” I growl, my voice echoing in the confined space.

The countdown begins. Three. Two. One.

The launch slams me against the tube’s walls, my body compressing under the force. Then, I’m shooting upward, the water rushing past me like a solid wall. The pressure is immense, crushing, and I grit my teeth against the pain. Muddy water forces its way into my nose, my lungs, my stomach, and every instinct screams to expel it, to breathe, but I can’t. I won’t.

The surface comes faster than I expect. I burst into the air with a roar, the force of the launch sending me arcing across the sky. The wind whips past my scales, the cold biting deep, and for a moment, I’m weightless, suspended in the open air. Then, gravity takes hold, and I’m plummeting back to earth.

I hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air from my lungs. My body tumbles through a pile of trash, the stench of rot and decay filling my nose, and I come to a stop in a heap of broken crates and discarded wrappers. My body is a ruin, my scales cracked and bleeding, my bones grinding against each other as they begin to knit themselves back together. I cough, water and bile spilling from my mouth, and my lungs burn with the effort to draw in air.

The pain is overwhelming, a white-hot agony that threatens to pull me under. But I can’t let it. I can’t. I focus on Cora, on the memory of her smile, the sound of her laugh. She’s out there, alone, and the thought of her in danger is enough to keep me conscious, to keep me breathing.

I drag myself to my feet, my body protesting every movement. My vision swims, the world tilting around me, but I force myself to stand. I can’t let the darkness take me. Not now. Not when Cora needs me. I take a step forward, then another, and another, each one a battle against the pain. I’ll make it to her. I have to.