“The commander put Grif in charge and until he says otherwise, that’s how the situation remains.”
Surprise ran through Grif. He hadn’t expected Ryker to back him.
His second turned his way. “Where do you think she’s headed?”
Grif didn’t hesitate. “To the missing females. But not to warn her pack. To try to help them escape. We need to intercept her before then.”
“Agreed.” Ryker was in full second-in-command mode. “You go, move as fast as you need to. Drop markers along the way so the team can follow. They’ll be two steps behind. I need to report what’s happened to the commander and deal with our flesh-and-blood ghost situation before he becomes more of a problem. If you find out more about this potential threat, send someone back. If not…” he shrugged. “Whether you find her in time or not, you’ll need the full extraction team to get the missing females out. This situation can’t be handled alone.”
He hated to admit it, but Ryker was right. “Makes sense.”
He’d make damn sure, though, that he found Nayla first.
“She better not have ruined everything,” snarled Malin. “If she has, I don’t care what kind of hard-on you’ve got for her, she’s going down.”
He shoved past the other male.
Stay safe, Nayla. I’m coming for you.
Skin and tendon gave under the snap of the sluglike walrhinot’s jaw.
Agony ripped through Nayla’s calf. She stifled the scream, forcing herself to remain limp. Playing dead was the only option with walrhinots in heat.
Dissatisfied and aggressive, the beast shook her leg once more. The back of her head banged against the rocks, and sharp edges scraped her spine.
Determination roared through her.
She would not die. Her captor might have broken her down, but he’d also shown her she was stronger than she’d realized.
She could still choose to make a difference.
She could still fix what she had done.
She would develop a new goal to sustain her. A worthy goal.
Trading with the bad Others had been a mistake. Taking the females as slaves an even worse one.
She had created an escalating confrontation that would only end in bloodshed if she did nothing to change it.
She could not allow that to happen. The pack was mostly hardworking, frightened people confronting starvation and the end of their old way of life, looking for a way to save themselves and their children, following a leader who told them he had the solution. And Grif…well, he was not the terrible savage she’d once believed, either.
None of them deserved to die because of her mistake or Talg’s bitterness.
So, a new plan was forming. She would return to pack land and sneak into the encampment where she had left the missing females, She would free them, leading them to safe territory where they would be easily found by Grif and the Others.
She would end the confrontation she had set in motion, erasing Grif’s main justification for war. She would save her people and prove her worth—to herself.
It was a new goal. A better goal. Honest. Unburdened by secret longings that could never be.
Perhaps the Ancients had known what they were doing when they put her in her captor’s path, after all.
Her fingers inched toward the nearest rock.
With a chittering set of outraged squeaks, the creature shook her harder. Its six large silver eyes, each one as big as four of her hands, blinked in unison as it released her ankle—and lunged for her throat.
Surging upward, she swung her weapon toward its closest eye.
Where are you, wild thing?
Grif peered from beneath the overhang, surveying the empty stretch of barren, desertlike land spread out in front of him. Nothing but caked sand, cracked crimson mud, and the occasional bit of scrub brush as far as the eye could see.
The suns dip below the horizon, setting the sky aflame with vibrant purple, orange, and pink hues. It was beautiful, but he really didn’t give a shit.
For three rotations, he’d tracked Nayla. For three rotations, she’d eluded him.
He’d always suspected she was clever and resourceful, but she’d exceeded his expectations.
Meanwhile, his worry grew.
When he’d found dried blood splattered on the rocks near the base of the cliff and followed it back to a torn piece of one of his old shirts stuck on a jagged rock, he’d wanted to sink to his knees and cry like a fucking baby. The proof that she really had made it out of that tunnel rocking him to his core.
The few footprints he’d found since indicated she was limping, but he had no idea the extent of