But now he thought about it, it made no sense that this elderly couple in a run-down city, with barely anything to their names, would need a safe.
Gark’s lips thinned. What had he gotten himself into this time?
Get in. Get the goods. Get paid.
Jarden stood and handed over the contents of the safe: a small velvet bag and a small disc the size of a fingernail. A human fingernail. Tiny.
“Remember the rules, Jarden.” Gark slid the items into a tamper-proof packet and sealed it with both thumb and voice print. Nobody could open the packet now unless they were either Gark or his delegate. If they tried to force it, the contents would combust.
“I know…" The big navigator stood and rolled his shoulders as if easing tight muscles from being crouched on the floor. “Don’t ask questions. Get in. Get the goods. Get paid.”
Gark nodded.
“Let’s get out of here.”
The three left the room, Gark giving the couple on the bed one last look. What would it be like to die holding the one you loved when you were old and grey? A warrior didn’t have that luxury, but a part of him yearned for it.
Would he scent his mate as his father’s people did? Or would it be more complicated for him? After all these years, he hadn’t found someone he wanted to spend more than an evening with, let alone his whole life.
He pulled the door shut and turned his back on the wishes and wants of his youth. Being stripped of his rank, his job, and his honor meant no woman would look twice at him. His dreams of companionship until he was old and grey were just that. Dreams.
They left the building.
“Boss?” Arik’s deep voice sounded over the comm link. The mechanic was on watch duty back on The Lady, and Gark tensed at his voice.
“Go ahead,” Gark barked down the comm. Jarden and Vox shared a grim look.
“Xakul incoming from the west. A pod of ten. There’s another ship here as well. Not the bugs.”
Gark ran his hands over his harness. “How much time do we have?”
Arik gave a number that had Gark grimacing. Half the amount of time they’d taken to get here. They might not make it.
“And the ship?”
“Slavers.” Arik’s voice dripped with disgust as he spat the word.
Gark didn’t need to tell Vox and Jarden to get moving; all three had started running as soon as Arik had mentioned the Xakul.
They were almost back at the ship when the most alluring scent Gark had ever smelled had him stumbling to a halt. It was the smell of ripe summer fruit combined with the rarest flowers, and it hit him like a blow to the stomach.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring the calls of Jarden and Vox, who had stopped further ahead in confusion.
His lungs filled, and something inside him clicked into place. He hadn’t even realized he had been broken, but now he was whole. And then his eyes snapped open.
No. This couldn’t be happening. Not after so many years. Not now.
A small human darted out in front of him. She—because it was definitely a woman—was terrified, her hair whipping around her face as she looked behind her. A screech of a Xakul in a feeding frenzy echoed off the buildings around them. The woman was so terrified that she ran straight into Gark, bouncing off his chest to land at his feet. She scrambled backward on her hands like a scuttling crab.
The scent. It was her.
“Help me!” She cried, chest heaving as she gasped for breath.
Gark looked over her at the Xakul soldier who limped out of the foggy gloom. It paused, lifting onto its back legs and let loose a bone-chilling scream. The same scream that haunted Gark’s nightmares.
At least this one wasn’t fully grown. He looked down at the woman on the ground in front of him. Its immaturity was probably the only reason she was still alive.
But he couldn’t leave her any more than he could leave his own heart behind.
