Page 101 of The Huntmaster

He charged.

He moved like a mountain slide, the dirt spraying beneath his heavy boots as he closed the distance between the arena and the platform in a fraction of a second. Mara didn't hesitate. With a fierce vanguard war cry, she instantly jumped directly in front of me, her blades raised in a defensive cross to take the blow.

It didn't matter. Geth didn't even slow down. He rammed his massive shoulder straight into her chest, the sheer mass of his momentum throwing Mara violently out of the way. She crashed into the rusted scaffolding, her weapons clattering away as she hit the rock wall and went still.

Before I could even think to run, Geth’s massive, clawed hand shot forward.

His fingers clamped entirely around my throat, the thick leather of his gauntlet cutting off my air instantly. With a single, effortless jerk, he hoisted me completely off my feet, holding my battered body up against the cold air of the cavern.

I thrashed, my bare feet dangling uselessly above the grated decking as my hands clawed at his iron wrist. Geth was completely covered in dark fluid, his chest heaving, his face inches from mine as he growled with a terrifying, genocidal resonance.

"You are going to die either way," he hissed, his hot, sulfurous breath burning my eyes as his grip tightened, slowly crushing my windpipe. "But before your heart stops, your pathetic, stolen bloodline is going to start this transmitter up, or I will paint this entire console with your spine."

The world began to blur at the edges, my lungs screaming for oxygen as the dark haze threatened to take my consciousness. I looked down into his blood-red eyes, my jaw locking as I forced the last bit of air through my teeth.

"Fuck... you," I choked out.

Geth let out a low, rumbling laugh. "The tree-prince has infected you with his stupidity," he snarled. "I almost respect it."

His grip tightened, and the dark began to close in.

Chapter 65

Kaelen-Thul

The edges of my vision were fracturing into a dark, static haze. I lay on the unforgiving dirt floor, each breath dragging a shard of fire through my shattered ribs. The world spun, a chaotic blur of green torchlight and grey shadows that I couldn't seem to lock into focus.

Then, a sudden, blinding agony tore straight through the centre of my chest.

It wasn't my pain. The mate bond behind my ribs didn't just throb—it ruptured, sending a white-hot spike of suffocating terror and physical asphyxiation directly into my soul. I couldn't breathe because she couldn't breathe.

Lyra.

The static in my mind burned away instantly, incinerated by a terrifying rush of adrenaline that flooded my veins like liquid fire. My eyes snapped open, the golden fire within them igniting with a lethal, blinding intensity. I forced my broken body up off the dirt, ignoring the screaming protests of my bones as I slammed my palms into the earth and surged to my feet.

A few yards away, Mara lay crumpled in a motionless heap against the rusted scaffolding.

"Toren!" I roared, my voice a deep, guttural vibration that shook the loose stone around us. "Get Mara! Move her to safety!"

I didn't wait to see if he obeyed. My gaze tore across the platform, locking onto the far side of the console.

Geth stood there, his monstrous form silhouetted against the machinery, his massive, leather-gauntleted hand clamped entirely around Lyra’s throat. He was holding her completely off the floor, her small, battered frame thrashing uselessly as her air was slowly crushed out of her.

My blood boiled, turning into pure, volatile acid. The last remnants of my sanity snapped, giving way to a primal, ancient wrath that had nothing to do with tactics and everything to do with slaughter.

"Do not fucking touch her!" I yelled, a deafening, predatory roar of absolute fury that echoed off the cavern walls like a thunderclap.

I charged.

The ground exploded beneath my bare feet as I sprinted across the arena, a runaway gale of violence. Seeing the huntmaster descending like a broken piece of the sky, four Vakra guards broke from the perimeter. Whether driven by a desperate bravery or pure, unadulterated stupidity, they lunged forward, levelling their heavy skymetal pikes to form a wall of steel between their master and me.

Nothing in this world could stop me. Not an army. Not the crust of the earth.

When I saw red, the universe narrowed down to a single, absolute imperative: Save Lyra.

I closed the distance in a heartbeat. The first pike flashed through the sulfur haze, its edge grazing violently along my side, tearing through my armour and slicing a line of fire across my ribs. I didn't even flinch. I drove my bare hands directly into the throat of that first warrior, tearing his windpipe out with my fingers before his body could hit the dirt.

As he fell, a second pike caught me squarely in the shoulder, the heavy skymetal point burying itself deep into my muscle. The force of the blow jolted my frame, but it wasn't enough to slow my momentum. I snarled, wrenching myself forward, using the very weapon embedded in my flesh to drag the second guard toward me, smashing his skull against a stone pillar until it shattered.