Page 102 of The Huntmaster

The third warrior managed a full, desperate thrust, driving his blade straight into the meat of my thigh. Pain flared, blinding and sharp, a brutal reminder of my mortality. But mortality meant nothing to a mate bond on the precipice of execution. They tried to break me. They tried to anchor me to the floor. But nothing was stopping me.

Ignoring the steel buried in my leg, I grabbed the third guard by the face and violently twisted, snapping his neck without so much as a blink, before ripping the fourth warrior's blade from his grip and driving it through his own chest plate.

I was a ruthless machine of flesh and fury, leaving a trail of broken, bleeding bodies in my wake. My body was broken, my skin was slick with dark Vakra fluid, and the wounds were catching up to me—but I felt the agony only as fuel. It was nothing compared to the white-hot, suffocating rage driving me toward the platform.

I vaulted onto the primary deck, my feet hitting the grated decking right behind Geth.

Before the High Scavenger could even turn to face the threat, I launched myself onto his massive back. I didn't reach for my daggers. I used my bare, bleeding hands. My fingers locked directly into the jagged, scarred holes and old wounds marring the side of his battered face, violently ripping backwards.

Geth let out a horrific, sky-splitting shriek of agony. His focus broke instantly. His grip on Lyra failed, and he dropped her to the floor.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Toren blur past the bone gate. He slid onto his knees right beside Lyra, his massive frame instantly shielding her as he checked her pulse, his hands hoveringly protective over her bruised throat.

But I was already gone, consumed entirely by the beast.

Chunks of Geth’s grey flesh remained attached to my fingers as I tore the side of his jaw open. He thrashed wildly, his heavy tail smashing into the console, trying to throw me off his back as he swung a blind, massive elbow into my head. The blow caught me squarely on the cheek, drawing blood, but I didn't let go. I leaned down, my elongated canines flashing in the green light, and buried my teeth deep into the thick, corded muscle of his neck. I bit down with absolute, bone-crushing force, tearing a massive, ragged chunk from his throat, the metallic taste of his dark blood fueling the madness in my veins.

Geth's choked gurgle was swallowed by my own snarling fury. I shifted my grip, my hands locking around the base of his heavy, scaly neck.

With a final, violent twist of my entire body, I channelled every ounce of my strength into one catastrophic wrench.

SNAP.

The sound of his vertebrae shattering echoed through the chamber.

Geth collapsed to his knees, a wet, choking gurgle escaping what remained of his ruined throat. His massive frame shuddered, his strength finally deserting him, but the beast inside me would accept no mercy. No compromise. No chance for him to rise again. He had put his hands on my mate. There could only be absolute finality.

My hands dropped from his fractured neck, tearing the heavy executioner's blade free from the sheath at his side. The metal was thick, jagged, and cruel. With a savage, primal roar, I drove the heavy steel into the fracture behind his head, sawing brutally into the thick bone and scaled flesh, hacking through the corded muscle until the blade finally cleaved through the last of the tissue.

The massive, headless torso of the High Scavenger slumped forward, hitting the grated floor with a heavy, hollow thud before rolling onto its side, completely still.

Suddenly, the cavern’s suffocating atmosphere shifted. The clatter of weapons along the perimeter, the guttural chants of the remaining guards, the fearful murmurs of the slaving dregs—all of it ground to an absolute, terrified silence.

I stood in the centre of the platform, my chest heaving in deep, ragged gasps as I huffed the sulfurous air, my skin entirely coated in dark, smoking fluid. The golden fire in my eyes pulsed slowly as I raised my arm, holding Geth’s severed head up by his matted, blood-soaked hair for the entire chamber to see.

Chapter 66

Lyra

The absolute silence that draped the cavern was deafening, broken only by the heavy, wet drip of Geth’s blood hitting the cold metal of the console.

I sat on the gritty floor, Toren’s massive arm supporting my back as my lungs desperately drank in the sulfurous air. Every breath felt like inhaling ground glass. My neck burned where Geth’s hand had nearly crushed my windpipe, and my flayed hand throbbed with a sickening agony.

But as I stared at the centre of the platform, the pain simply faded into the background. I was in absolute, breathless awe.

Kaelen stood there like a god of old myth, painted in the dark, smoking blood of his enemy. His skin was slashed and bleeding from the pikes that had tried—and failed—to anchor him to the earth, but he looked completely untouchable. Holding Geth's severed head by its matted, blood-soaked hair, his golden alpha eyes pulsed with a terrifying, primal light. The sheer, devastating power of what he had done for me vibrated through the very bedrock.

Toren gently squeezed my shoulder, his voice remarkably soft for his size. "Come, little star. Let us get you up."

With a final, steadying lift, Toren helped me find my footing, then stepped off the raised platform and slipped back toward the collapsed bone gate to secure the rear.

I practically scrambled forward, relying on my own momentum to carry me. My bare feet kicked up the dirt as I rushed across the platform, desperate to close the distance.

"Kaelen!" I choked out, my voice raw and scraped.

At the sound of my voice, the brutal, rabid tension in Kaelen's shoulders finally snapped. He let the High Scavenger’s head drop to the grated floor with a heavy, wet thud. He spun around, and in an instant, he was there.

His arms wrapped around me, pulling me so tightly against his chest that his armour bit into my skin, but I didn't care. I buried my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the sharp, metallic scent of him underneath the layer of Vakra blood. He was shaking. The great huntmaster, the alpha who had just dismantled an empire's vanguard with his bare hands, was trembling as he held me.