He turned toward the door, movements unhurried, confident.
"I'll never acclimate to this," I hissed at his back, my voice steady despite the rage shaking through my bones. "I'll never be what you want."
Declan paused at the threshold, glancing back over his shoulder. "We'll see." Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him with a sound like a cell locking.
I stood frozen in the middle of the room, my mind reeling, trying to process what had just happened.
Acclimated?
I wasn't getting acclimated to shit! I was getting the hell out of here, off this island. And then, then I was going to find some way, any way, to make Declan Hewes pay for what he'd done to Xabat.
Chapter 15
Xabat
The medi-unit's soft beep signaled the end of the treatment. I rolled my shoulders and rotated my neck in slow circles, marveling at the complete absence of the stiffness that had plagued me only minutes earlier. My fingertips explored the back of my head, searching for the small indentation that marked the injury site. It was gone, the skin beneath my touch smooth and unbroken.
I rose to my feet and stretched, feeling each muscle flex and hearing the satisfying pop of joints realigning. I felt stronger than I had in hours. The weakness that had dogged me was now just a memory.
I lifted the medi-unit from the tabletop where I'd positioned it earlier to direct the healing light at the wound. A cascade of beeps and glowing symbols scrolled across the small display, confirming what I'd suspected. The human bullet had fractured my skull but hadn't broken through.
I returned the medi-unit to the cabinet and grabbed the cup of nutrient drink from the counter, draining it in several quick swallows. From outside my shuttle, so faint that human ears would never have detected it, came the low whoosh of another vessel touching down. I glanced at the timepiece embedded in the console. They'd made excellent time. Only a couple of hours had passed since I'd stumbled back to myshuttle, the journey back having taken far longer than it should have, dizziness haunting my every step.
I slipped my hand into my pocket and reactivated the cuddwisg device before lowering the ramp and stepping out into the open air.
To any casual observer, it would have looked as though Rickon and Cristox simply materialized from thin air. Both of them wore cuddwisg devices like mine, their forms disguised to resemble human males. Cristox had dressed similarly to me—jeans and a shirt—but Rickon wore something... peculiar.
I descended the ramp, my boots clanging against the metal grating, and raised my forearm in the traditional warrior's greeting. "What are you wearing?" I asked, my gaze sweeping over Rickon's attire as our forearms clasped. I turned to Cristox next, repeating the gesture.
Rickon's chest puffed out slightly as he preened, his fingers smoothing down the lapels of his dark blue jacket with obvious satisfaction. "It is called a three-piece suit," he announced, the pride evident in his tone.
"It looks impractical," I commented, watching the way the material seemed to restrict rather than accommodate his movements.
A smirk tugged at the corner of Rickon's mouth. "More impractical than the shirt with the dancing trees you're wearing?"
I deliberately flexed my shoulders, feeling the fabric stretch and give with the motion. "My mate chose this shirt for me," I said, the words carrying more weight than I'd intended.
The air between us shifted. Rickon and Cristox exchanged a glance, their eyes widening in unison. They knew full well that I had come to Earth to rescue Harper at my brother's request. Shock rippled across both their faces, but beneath it, I saw no trace of judgment, only surprise.
Cristox recovered first, his hand landing heavy and warm on my shoulder. "Congratulations, my brother," he said, his voice thick with sincerity. "You are blessed with what we all dream of."
The words should have filled me with pride, should have made my chest swell with the joy of such a sacred bond. Instead, they twisted like a serrated blade between my ribs.
"They took her," I said, the words scraping raw from my throat.
Rickon's expression transformed in an instant, all traces of humor and levity draining from his faux human features. His eyes hardened to flint. "And we will get her back," he said, each word a vow.
"We need to prep for the mission and contact theHistoriato see if they've been able to triangulate on the tracker," Cristox said, already pivoting on his heel and striding back toward his shuttle.
I followed, my legs eating up the distance in long strides. The displaced air cloaking the second shuttle loomed before me, but once I stepped through, the ship flashed into view. A newer model, one specifically engineered to transport troops into battle. The ramp lowered with a hydraulic hiss as we approached. Inside, Cristox settled into the pilot's chair, his fingers already dancing across the controls as he engaged the comm link with theHistoria. I slid into the co-pilot's seat, the chair conforming to my weight. Behind us, Rickon began a weapons check, the soft clicks and metallic slides of his inspection filling the cabin.
Maddie's face materialized on the holographic display, her dark curly hair pulled back from her forehead with a vibrant printed cloth. Her eyes swept over me in a quick, assessing scan.
"Feeling better, Xabat?" she asked, her voice carrying that particular warmth she reserved for those she considered friendsand family. Adtovar appeared at her side, his larger frame filling the edge of the projection.
"Yes," I said, my voice steadier than it had been. "Have you located Harper?"
Maddie and Adtovar shared a glance, something unspoken passing between them in the way only bonded pairs could communicate. A faint curl played at the corner of her lips—not quite a smile, more like the ghost of one that thought better of appearing.
