the mix of hurt and defiance in her stare as her gaze had slid to his.
It had been tense between them ever since.
Grif had told himself it wasn’t permanent, but it was useful. He thrown himself into extra patrolling routes like this one—and gone over his extraction plans A, B, and C with his team so many times they were begging him to take up a hobby.
He’d worked alongside getting the spear to work, determined to ensure that Nayla did not feel the need to go searching for an even better crystal to fit her spear tip. He and Bain had finally succeeded in getting it to work. Just a few hours before, the spear had glowed bright, its energy crackling as fierce as any flame.
Even Nayla had cheered.
Now, there was a new wrinkle.
The once crackling spear glow was gone.
Most of the crew was in bed. Grif had just finished patrolling for his final sweep. He’d been more than ready to return to Nayla like a thief in the night, soaking in the way she melted against him, his body curling around hers, allowing him his first deep and full breaths since he held her last.
They fucked hard and fast, each greedy for the other. But in the morning, the same tensions were still there.
Tensions that were only magnified when Nayla had declared only a few hours past that there were less than two rotations more of travel until they reached the area where the missing females were being kept.
Now, he had another wrinkle to add.
“What are you doing out here, Malin?” He tried to keep his tone casual, but there was no missing the edge to his voice. “Your shift ended long ago.”
His teammate’s gaze narrowed. “I went to check on the females’ tent and make sure they were okay. I passed here on the way.”
Possible. Malin’s obsession with Lana was well known. But so was his fixation on Nayla as a danger that no one else seemed to see but him.
“So you didn’t see anyone near the spear?”
“No, but I just arrived.”
Maybe. Just like maybe the broken spear was the result of bad luck or shoddy workmanship.
Or maybe it had been deliberate.
A faint scuffing noise at his back was Grif’s only warning.
He swiveled and swung his ax. Malin’s flashed only a few heartbeats behind.
“Dragath hells. It’s only me.” Maddox looked up from where he’d dropped his ass to the dirt.
“Yes, I realized in midstrike.” Grif peered down at his crewmate. “Otherwise, you’d be dead.”
Malin snorted in agreement.
“Well, thanks for that.” Maddox took Grif’s proffered hand and stood. “I got used to sneaking around. Hard to break that habit.”
“Find a way or you’ll be headless soon enough.” Grif sheathed his ax. Malin did the same.
True to form, Maddox didn’t waste time. “I have news.”
“I figured the commander didn’t send you for just a hello.” Grif braced himself. “Report.”
“The ghost is no longer haunting the settlement.”
Grif exchanged a look with Malin.
Maddox noticed. He cleared his throat. “He took off right around the time the extraction team joined you.”
Grif frowned. “He’s trailing us through the tunnels thanks to the markers.”
Maddox seemed surprised his news wasn’t more of a bombshell. “It looks that way. He’s good and he’s careful and he’s staying back for the most part, but he definitely appears to be shadowing you.”
“He’s following Nayla.” Suspicion once more coated Malin’s voice. “They’re in communication. He could be the one who let Sharluff out and broke the spear. Or, he’s giving her the orders. Hells, they’re working together to sabotage the mission.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. She needs to be under guard twenty-four seven, her movements restricted until we can know for certain she’s not a threat.”
Grif’s spine snapped straight, every protective instinct rising to the fore. “No one is putting her under guard.”
Still, the veins in his arms popped as aggression flowed through him. The image of a muscled, compact male with huge tusks impossible to ignore. Was Ramm the ghost? Or was the person trailing them someone else?
All Grif knew for sure was that there was no way Nayla was collaborating with their mystery voyeur.
But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a connection.
Or that one of his own crew wasn’t involved.
It was another worry. Another reason to be extra vigilant. His ability to the hold the threats at bay growing even more challenging, like Dragath sand slipping through his fingers no matter how tight he made his fists.
He’d been getting up early and going to bed late. Triple-checking everything.