I scan the room quickly. Aside from the one he was about to roast, there’s another corpse laid out on a table. So that’s the blood I smelled. Unfortunately, the stench is too strong now for me to be certain Neela’s not among them. But both of these people were clearly murdered.
“How many have you tossed into that thing?” I ask, tightening my grip slightly.
The guy is petrified, barely coherent.
“You’d better answer properly before I lose my patience,” I snarl, letting one claw just barely pierce his skin.
He gasps and holds up four fingers.
“See? That wasn’t so hard,” I hiss. “Now, tell me—was one of them a woman?”
He shakes his head frantically and wheezes out a barely audible “No.” Relief floods me. At least Neela isn’t one of the poor souls he’s already disposed of.
I should move on—but first, I need to decide what to do with him. So far, I haven’t killed anyone. I’ve only incapacitated those I’ve run into—because for all I knew, they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But this guy? No gray area. He’s the one making the bodies disappear.
I’m not bound by Neela’s precious Pact. I’m a proud Sadjim, and this human won’t be shown mercy. Like any good feline, I feel a flicker of temptation to toy with him first, but I don’t have time for games.
With my hand still clamped around his throat, I extend my claws fully, slicing straight into a major artery. His thick, crimson blood spurts violently, soaking my glove and chest plate. I let him drop and watch him bleed out without a flicker of emotion. It’s over in seconds.
I shove his corpse into the incinerator drawer he had prepared and head off to rinse the sticky gore from my hands. Oddly enough, his scent didn’t even stir my appetite—not even a twitch. Maybe I just prefer my prey… unspoiled.
I resume my search, frustrated beyond measure at not finding Neela. I check every room—interrupting everything from strategy meetings to awkward hookups.
By the time I circle back to my entry point, the truth sinks in: Neela isn’t here.
I return to the spot outside where I first picked up her faint trail, near the vehicle. Damn it. I wasted a whole hour searchingthis place when I could’ve been tracking that truck she was clearly loaded into.
Alright, no point beating myself up over what’s already done. I leave the building, grab my gear, and head out after that damn truck.
I reach the cover of the trees and trot in the same direction the vehicle took. I can’t speed up much—every step is a brutal reminder of yesterday’s fall. Still, I allow myself a few shortcuts where the truck has to wind around rocks or patches of trees.
When I finally leave the outskirts of the settlement, I briefly hit the main road just to make sure I’m not chasing a ghost. But the scent trail from inside the truck is faint, nearly drowned out by the smells of lichens and shrubs all around. I’ve got no choice but to keep going and pray I’m not heading away from my mate.
The farther I go, the more anxious I get. I push my pace past what’s reasonable—sunset isn’t far off, and I doubt they’d choose to spend the night outside. That truck has a destination, and it’ll want to reach it before dark.
Suddenly, a faint scent hits me: blood, up ahead.
I pick up speed. I’d know that sweet scent anywhere—Neela’s. My heart slams against my ribs. If she’s hurt, if they’ve done anything to her—
I burst into a clearing. Tracks everywhere. And in the middle, a dark, rusty puddle where blood has soaked into the earth and moss, forming a coppery sludge. Judging by the amount spilled, whoever it belonged to probably didn’t survive. And given the strong trace of my companion’s scent here… it could be hers.
I snap.
Images flood my mind—Neela’s lifeless body tossed aside like nothing. If they’ve harmed her, I’ll hunt them all down and makethem pay. Slowly. Painfully. I’ll make them wish they hadn’t crossed a Sadjim.
I inhale sharply. Exhale.
Again.
Control, Prax. Focus.
I shut my eyes, pushing aside emotion and tuning into sensation. The clearing is silent, save for the rustle of small animals nearby—proof that no other predators linger. I sniff again, carefully this time, filtering through layers of scent: humans, dogs, something unfamiliar… and Neela. Pallas, too.
I hone in on their trail—veering right, beyond the clearing. I open my eyes slowly and scan the edge of the brush. Broken branches. A few tufts of fur snagged on a twig. I pick one up and bring it to my nose: Pallas. My little manul went that way, and he wasn’t alone.
A deep sigh escapes me. They got away. That blood—it wasn’t hers. She escaped. Probably during a stop. Someone else died here.
I don’t care who.
