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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

T he Xenobeast crouched motionless on the cliff edge, his body melding with the crimson stone. Below, the wreckage of Xara’s shuttle lay exposed in a small clearing, its twisted metal gleaming dully in the alien sunlight.

For three cycles he’d patrolled the perimeter, setting traps, planting the Tal’shai’s living sensors, preparing for war. Now the waiting was over.

A sleek Zarkari drop-ship cut through the atmosphere, its engines barely audible—a testament to Dominion engineering.

The vessel bore Vask’s personal insignia: a black geometric pattern that resembled a shattered star.

The Xenobeast’s tendrils tightened against his skull, his body tensing with primal hatred.

Commander Vask Dravak. The man who’d ordered his creation, then his exile.

The ship settled beside the shuttle wreckage with practiced precision.

Hydraulics hissed as the loading ramp extended, touching the blood-red soil with a soft thud.

Six figures emerged —Suppressor Elite, their armor a deep obsidian that absorbed light rather than reflected it.

They moved with lethal efficiency, spreading out to secure the perimeter.

The Xenobeast narrowed his eyes. Something was wrong. Their formation wasn’t standard for hunting a rogue asset. They weren’t looking for signs of him at all.

They were examining the shuttle. Scanning for traces.

Traces of Xara.

Cold realization washed through him. They hadn’t come for the weapon they’d discarded. They’d come for her.

A seventh figure emerged from the ship—taller than the others, moving with the casual arrogance of command.

Commander Vask Dravak. Even at this distance, the Xenobeast recognized the straight-backed posture, the deliberate movements.

Vask’s voice carried faintly on the wind as he barked orders at his team.

“Secure biological samples. Priority one is tracking the female.”

The Xenobeast’s claws dug into the stone beneath him, carving deep furrows. His vision narrowed, pulsing red at the edges. The beast inside him—the thing they’d engineered to kill without question—roared to be unleashed.

But the cold, calculating part of him—the part he’d developed in defiance of his programming—held it in check. Rage was a weapon only when controlled.

He watched as one of the Suppressors retrieved something from the shuttle—a scrap of fabric. Xara’s. They were tracking her scent.

A growl built in his chest. They would never reach her. Never touch her. Never take her from him.

He slipped backward from the cliff edge, moving with a silence that belied his size. The jungle welcomed him, crimson foliage parting as he passed. The living sensors the Tal’shai had given them were already changing color, alerting him to the intruders’ movements.

The Xenobeast circled wide, positioning himself between the Zarkari squad and the path to their cave. Xara was there with the pups, protected by the traps they’d laid together, but he would not let the fight reach their home.

He activated the first trap—a simple tripwire connected to a net of poisoned vines. Childish by Dominion standards, but effective when combined with the element of surprise.

Two Suppressors triggered it. The net dropped, enveloping them in toxic barbs. Their armor protected them from the worst, but the paralytic agent worked through the joints of their suits. They went down, not dead but immobilized.

Four remaining, plus Vask.

The Xenobeast melted deeper into the jungle. The remaining Suppressors moved more cautiously now, scanning for additional traps. They were good—the best the Dominion had to offer. But this was his jungle. His world.

And they threatened what was his.

He activated the second trap—a series of sonic emitters salvaged from the ruins near their cave. The devices produced a frequency that attracted Haxin swarms—tiny flying predators with razor-sharp mandibles that could strip flesh from bone in minutes.

The dark cloud descended on the Zarkari squad, forcing them to activate their energy shields. The shields would hold, but the power drain would weaken their weapons systems.

Three of the Suppressors broke formation, moving deeper into the jungle—straight toward the killing ground he’d prepared. The fourth stayed with Vask, a personal guard.

Perfect.

The Xenobeast followed the three who’d separated, silent as death. They were moving in a standard sweep pattern, but their unfamiliarity with the terrain made them vulnerable. He let them proceed just far enough to be out of visual contact with Vask.

Then he struck.

He dropped from above, landing on the rearmost Suppressor with bone-crushing force. Before the others could turn, he’d driven his claws through the weak point at the base of the soldier’s skull, severing the neural link to his combat implants.

The other two spun, weapons raised, but he was already moving—a blur of silver and shadow. He caught the second Suppressor’s arm, twisting until the reinforced bone snapped. The soldier’s scream was cut short as the Xenobeast slammed him into a stone pillar with enough force to crack his helmet.

The third got off a shot—a pulse of energy that grazed the Xenobeast’s shoulder, burning a furrow across his skin. The pain only fed his rage. He charged, ducking under a second shot, and drove his fist into the Suppressor’s chest plate. The armor cracked but held.

The soldier was good—he countered with a strike to the Xenobeast’s wounded shoulder, following with a kick that would have shattered a normal being’s knee. But the Xenobeast wasn’t normal. He was engineered to withstand punishment that would kill most species.

He caught the Suppressor’s leg and twisted, using the soldier’s momentum to slam him into the ground. Before the Zarkari could recover, the Xenobeast pinned him with one massive hand around his throat.

“The female,” he growled, his voice rough from disuse. “Why does Vask want her?”

The Suppressor struggled, but the Xenobeast tightened his grip.

“Genetic anomaly,” the soldier gasped. “Compatibility with Dominion biotech. Rare. Valuable.”

Cold fury washed through him. They wanted to use her—experiment on her. Turn her into a resource, just as they had done to him.

He snapped the Suppressor’s neck with a single twist.

Three down. Two to go.

The Xenobeast moved back toward Vask’s position, no longer bothering with stealth. The commander would know his squad was under attack. The element of surprise was gone.

Now it was time for terror.

He activated the final trap—a series of explosive charges set in the trees surrounding the clearing. Not powerful enough to kill, but enough to create chaos.

The charges detonated in sequence, sending shrapnel and burning fragments raining down. The remaining Suppressor shielded Vask with his body, scanning for threats.

The Xenobeast stepped from the jungle’s edge, fully visible for the first time. Blood—both his and the Suppressors’—streaked his silver skin. His tendrils writhed with aggression. His eyes burned with silver fire.

Vask’s expression didn’t change, but the Xenobeast caught the momentary widening of his eyes—the first flicker of fear.

“Asset K-7,” Vask said, his voice cold and precise. “Functional after all these cycles. Impressive.”

“Not K-7,” the Xenobeast growled. “Not yours.”

Vask’s lips thinned. “You were engineered to serve the Dominion. Everything you are belongs to us.”

“Nothing belongs to you here.”

The commander’s eyes narrowed. “The female is valuable. Her genetic structure is uniquely compatible with our biotech. She will serve a greater purpose.”

The beast inside him roared, straining against his control. His tendrils lashed the air, his claws extending to their full, lethal length.

“She is not yours to take.”

Vask signaled to his remaining guard. “Neutralize the asset.”

The Suppressor raised his weapon—a neural disruptor designed specifically to incapacitate beings like him. The Xenobeast had been trained to fear those weapons, conditioned to submit when faced with them.

But that was before Xara. Before the pups. Before he had something worth fighting for.

He charged, moving faster than the Suppressor could track. The disruptor fired, the energy pulse missing him by inches. He slammed into the soldier with the full force of his rage, driving him backward into a tree trunk with enough force to splinter the wood.

The Suppressor fought back with augmented strength, landing blows that would have crippled any other opponent.

But the Xenobeast barely felt them. He was beyond pain, beyond fear.

He tore through the soldier’s armor with his claws, ripping away the protective plating to expose the vulnerable flesh beneath.

The Suppressor managed one final, desperate strike—driving a vibro-blade into the Xenobeast’s side. The blade sank deep, sending waves of agony through his body. But he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

With a roar that shook the trees, he tore the Suppressor’s head from his shoulders.

Silence fell over the clearing. The Xenobeast turned, blood dripping from his claws, to face Vask.

The commander stood alone, outwardly calm despite the carnage surrounding him. He drew a sidearm—a sleek, deadly pulse pistol.

“You were our greatest achievement,” Vask said, his voice steady. “And our greatest failure.”

The Xenobeast stalked forward, ignoring the weapon aimed at his chest. “Your failure was thinking you owned me.”

Vask fired. The energy pulse struck the Xenobeast square in the chest, burning through muscle and tissue. He staggered but didn’t fall.

“Your failure,” he continued, still advancing, “was coming back.”

Vask fired again. And again. Each shot tore through the Xenobeast’s body, leaving smoking wounds that would have killed any normal being. But he wasn’t normal. He was engineered to endure. To survive.

To win.

He reached Vask, knocking the weapon from his hand with a casual swipe. The commander didn’t flinch, didn’t beg. His cold eyes met the Xenobeast’s without wavering.

“She belongs to the Dominion,” Vask said. “As do you. Others will come.”

The Xenobeast seized him by the throat, lifting him until his feet dangled above the ground. His tendrils wrapped around Vask’s face, tasting his fear beneath the facade of control.

“Let them come,” he growled. “I’ll kill them all.”

He could snap Vask’s neck. End it now. The beast inside him screamed for it—for vengeance, for blood. But the part of him that had defied his programming, the part that had chosen mercy once before, held back.

Not out of compassion. Out of strategy.

He dragged Vask to the edge of the clearing, where the ground dropped away into a deep river canyon. The commander struggled now, finally showing fear as he realized what was coming.

“The Dominion doesn’t know she’s here,” the Xenobeast said. “Only you do. Your ship. Your squad.”

Understanding dawned in Vask’s eyes. “You’ll never be free of us.”

“I already am.”

With a final surge of strength, the Xenobeast hurled Vask over the edge. The commander’s scream echoed briefly before being swallowed by the roar of the river below.

The Xenobeast stood at the cliff edge, watching as Vask’s body was swept away by the current. His wounds throbbed, blood flowing freely from multiple pulse burns and the vibro-blade still embedded in his side.

But he felt no pain. Only a cold, savage satisfaction.

He turned back to the clearing, surveying the battlefield. Five dead Suppressors. Two paralyzed but alive. The drop-ship, still powered and intact.

He would deal with the survivors and the ship later. For now, he needed to return to Xara. To make sure she was safe.

As he moved back into the jungle, his steps were no longer those of prey evading hunters. He was the predator now. The hunter.

This world was his territory. Xara was his mate. The pups were their family.

And he would destroy anyone who threatened them.