I set the ambush myself and direct my warriors. The serpent-panther tracks are fresh. Blood spray on the low vines, a tuft of fur still pulsing with nervous static. The animal is close, maybe ten meters off, in the hollow where the mist never lifts.
Elena’s fear detonates in my chest. The hunt is nothing. The Reach is nothing. The warriors shouting after me are nothing. There is only the signal from Elena.
I run. The world blurs. The men shout after me, but the sound falls away. The jungle is a single body, pulsing with life. The Reach opens for me, vines pulling back, giving me straight lines where there should be none.
I know where they took her. She’s still in the jungle. They made a fatal error. They don’t know how the Green Reach works. The jungle obeys me. By the time I hit the outer shield of Reach’s End, I’m alone, and the strength of the green life is pouring into me.
I run to Vorak’s gate and punch my hand right through the panel. The alarm is instant, a shriek in the dark, but the vines around the gate seize and pull at my command, opening for me.
The inner wall is guarded by three of Vorak’s best. They’re big, even for Xythean warriors, and their armor is new. Concord-issue, still reeking of the High Lord and his airs. The lead male opens his mouth to call for more, but I put my fist in his throat and he drops. The next tries to draw a blade—bad idea, close quarters—and I snap his wrist, then his jaw. The third one hesitates, sees me, and bolts. Smart. Doesn’t matter.
Vorak’s fortress is nothing like mine. The air is cold and dry, and the floors are made of steel. The only thing alive here is the network of guards, all watching, all armed. Every corridor is a kill box.
Vorak was smart to keep it sterile. Keep the jungle out of it. But it won’t be enough to save him. The mate signal is burning my nerves, pointing me toward the center of the fortress. The guards try to slow my advance. They might as well be mist.
My boots leave a wet trail behind me, blood and mud. I don’t bother hiding it. I want Vorak to know I’m coming. It’s time for him to end.
Two levels up, the alarms change pitch. A new signal, more urgent. Someone has activated the fortress lockdown. Metal slabs slam down over every door, every vent. The lights dim, then pulse red. The air vibrates with a subsonic hum meant to disorient, but I just ride it. Feel the inside of my skull tighten.
I reach the upper concourse, where the inner circle of Vorak’s command meets. The doors here are thicker, reinforced, triple-locked.
None of his security measures will stop me. Not with the power of the jungle inside me. Let the High Lord see what I have become. So long as Elena is safe.
I rip the security panel off the wall and jam my thumb into the override. The doors open.
Vorak is waiting at the end of the room, behind a table set with Council feeds. He has two guards at his back, both in full armor, visors down, on full alert as I step into the room. He doesn’t look up, just keeps reading the feeds as I enter, as if he’s completely unconcerned.
The room is full of surveillance. Every move I make is recorded, analyzed, and transmitted. The Council will have a record of this, but it doesn’t matter. No one can keep me from killing Vorak this time.
I stop five meters from the table, flex my hands, and feel the bruises in my knuckles.
Vorak glances up, finally. His eyes are dark, glassy. His left hand is wrapped in a pressure bandage. I’m guessing that was Elena’s work.I knew she was the one for me.
He sits back in his chair and steeples his fingers. “You look like shit, Rythar.”
I ignore it. “Where is my mate?”
He smiles, slow and deliberate. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” He glances at the guards. “Leave us.”
The guards hesitate, then step back to the wall, hands on their weapons. They won’t interfere unless ordered.
Vorak stands, straightening his uniform. He circles the table, but keeps a safe distance.
“You know this isn’t personal. The Council needs the antivenom and proof that humans can breed here. You madeyourself a target the second you showed her off. I only did what was required.”
“She is not yours to take,” I say, voice flat.
He shakes his head. “She left willingly. She’s done with you. You were too weak to keep her.”
He says it as if he believes it, but the bond in my blood says otherwise.
“You always had the advantage in your Green Reach,” he says. “Your jungle. Your beasts. Your myths.” A smile tugs at his mouth. “You ruled where the land bent to you. That’s over now.” He gestures at the walls. “You’re not in your jungle. You’re in mine.”
His eyes gleam with certainty.
I take a step forward.
Vorak stiffens—just slightly, seeing my lack of fear.
