Page 33 of Zayrik (The Protectorate Warriors Alien Fated Mates #6)
Zayrik
THROUGH OUR BOND, HER pain hit me like physical blows. Each cut, each strike, each moment of defiance echoing through our connection.
Making everything inside me scream for violence.
And she was still refusing to break.
The corridors blurred around me as I moved.
Fast.
Deadly.
Untouchable.
Every step guided by the pull of our bond, by the need to reach her.
Anyone in my way got one warning.
Most didn’t get that.
Didn’t deserve it.
Not when her blood was being spilled.
I took down two guards in the lower access hall. Clean strikes, no sound.
Left them crumpled behind a supply rack.
Each strike precise, controlled, channeling the rage that threatened to consume me.
They weren’t Vask’s best.
He hadn’t needed them to be.
Because this wasn’t about keeping Nyla in.
It was about keeping me out.
About making me watch through our bond as he hurt what was mine.
The air reeked of fuel and blood and smoke.
And underneath it all?
Her.
The scent that had become home.
The essence that called to something primal in my blood.
Nyla’s scent still clung to the docking bay.
To the cargo lifts.
To the trail I followed like a godsdamn predator with nothing left to lose.
Like an ancient thing awakened by her pain.
She was still close.
I could feel it.
Could feel her through our bond. Hurt but defiant, scared but fighting.
My warrior. My mate. My everything.
My mating marks pulsed under my skin—she’s hurt, she’s hurt, she’s hurt—each throb a countdown to violence.
Each pulse a promise of retribution.
I hit the next junction and nearly took down the mechanic standing there.
Would have, if the need to reach her hadn’t stayed my hand.
He threw up his hands. “I—I don’t want trouble—”
“Then get out of my way.”
My voice didn’t sound human anymore.
Didn’t need to be.
He moved.
Smart man.
Two more turns.
Each step a steady rhythm against her pain pulsing through our bond.
That’s when I saw it.
Vask’s ship.
Sleek. Armored. Shields powered up, but not flying yet.
A cage for my mate.
A tomb for her captor, once I was done.
Still docked.
He hadn’t left yet. He was still hurting her.
Still breathing.
The last part was temporary.
I reached for my comm.
“Raxor. He hasn’t left. Confirm approach.”
My voice steady despite the fury burning in my veins.
Despite the way our bond trembled with her pain.
The Protectorate warship’s voice cut through like a blade.
“Five minutes out. Stand by.”
Too long.
Far too long.
I stared at the ship. Fingers flexing. Breath tight.
Every instinct screaming to move now, to tear through metal and men until I reached her.
I felt a sudden, sharp pang of agony.
Not mine.
Hers.
Through our bond, intense and overwhelming.
Pain, searing through my ribs.
A choke of breath.
The echo of her voice, muffled, cracking.
But still defiant.
Still refusing to break.
Suddenly, it was gone.
But it left something burning behind.
A raw edge I couldn’t shake.
A rage that threatened to turn me into something darker than a warrior.
She was still holding on.
Still trusting me to come.
And she was hurting.
Because I wasn’t fast enough.
Wasn’t there.
Five minutes was too long . She didn’t have five minutes. We didn’t have five minutes.
The image flashed in my mind. Nyla, bloodied. Broken. Gone.
Everything I feared.
Everything I couldn’t allow.
I stepped forward. Ready to paint the walls with Vask’s blood.
A hand caught my shoulder.
Human. Familiar. Unwelcome.
Cal.
The old merc who’d taught her to survive. Who’d failed to keep her safe then. Who was stopping me from protecting her now.
“You go in now,” he stated, his voice, deep and laden with experience I didn’t want to hear, “You die, she dies. And that bastard wins.”
I jerked away from him.
Fighting the urge to throw him across the bay.
“I can’t wait—”
Not when our bond pulsed with her pain. I could feel her fighting alone.
“You will,” Cal snapped. “Because the moment you go off-plan, Vask has exactly what he wants. Chaos, leverage and no one left to stop him.”
The words cut through my rage.
Because they were true.
She’d known they were true when she turned herself over to him.
I turned toward the ship again.
My hands curled into fists.
The marks on my arms blazing bright enough to see through my sleeves.
I could end it now.
Follow our bond straight to her.
Rip through hull and metal.
Drag him out.
Break him down to blood and dust until there was nothing left but his begging.
I could.
The warrior in me knew how.
The mate in me demanded it.
But I didn’t.
Didn’t move. Because she trusted me to do this right. To be smarter than rage.
To become more than just violence with purpose.
I activated my comm again.
Each word careful against her trust.
“Raxor. Clear a path to Bay Twelve. I want breach teams ready.”
“You’ll have them. Two minutes.”
A promise in those words.
A countdown to controlled destruction.
I forced myself to stand still.
Forced myself to breathe.
I aimed to be the warrior she needed, not just the mate who wanted blood.
Through our bond, I pushed everything I had. Strength, determination, promise.
Hold on, K’sha . Just a little longer.
I felt her response, faint but fierce. Still alive.
Vask wanted me to lose control.
To charge in, and let rage override strategy.
To become predictable in my desperation to reach her.
He didn’t want war.
He wanted a spectacle.
A moment to break me.
But I wasn’t breaking.
I was becoming.
Becoming something deadlier than rage.
Something colder than fury.
He would break.
Because the next time I saw him?
The next time I felt him hurt her through our bond?
There wouldn’t be enough left to identify.
Wouldn’t be enough left to bury.
Just ash and memory and a warning to anyone who thought they could touch my mate.
The marks on my arms pulsed in time with my heartbeat.
In time with hers.
A countdown to retribution.
To reunion.
To everything we could be once this was over.
Hold on, Nyla.
I’m coming.
And I’m bringing hell with me.
Through our bond, I felt her pain spike again.
Felt her determination waver.
Felt everything that made her mine start to fade.