They walked in silence, the only sounds their footsteps and the occasional drip of water from somewhere overhead. The passage twisted and turned, sometimes widening into larger chambers where ancient machinery sat rusting in corners, sometimes narrowing until they had to walk single file.
Melissa found herself studying the back of Becsul’s head as they moved, the way his shoulders tensed at every junction, the constant alertness in his posture. He moved through the darkness with confidence, clearly familiar with the route, andshe wondered how many times he’d walked these tunnels before. How many secrets this planet held that its own people had forgotten.
After what felt like an hour but was probably closer to twenty minutes, Becsul held up a fist. Everyone stopped.
“Wait here.”
He disappeared around a corner, the blue light going with him. Melissa’s hand found Sarah’s in the darkness, squeezing once in silent reassurance. Behind them, Wei-Lin’s breathing was steady and controlled—a soldier’s breathing, Melissa realized. The woman had training. Military, maybe, or something close to it.
Light flickered ahead. Becsul’s voice, low but clear: “It’s safe. Come.”
They rounded the corner and found themselves in a larger chamber, this one occupied. A Cire male stood beside a makeshift supply cache, his markings a darker green than Becsul’s, nearly black in the dim light. He was older, Melissa thought—something in the set of his shoulders, the weathered look of his face—and he watched their approach with sharp, assessing eyes.
“Captain.” The word held respect, but also something warmer. Familiarity.
“Makram.” Becsul clasped the other male’s arm in greeting. “Thank you for coming.”
“As if I had a choice.” But Makram was smiling, his teeth white and sharp. “You saved my life twice during the SouthernCampaign. The least I can do is help you smuggle some human females through the undercity.”
His gaze swept over their group, lingering on each face in turn. When he reached Melissa, something shifted in his expression—understanding, maybe, or recognition.
“So this is the one.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“I can see why.” Makram’s smile widened. “She has fire in her eyes. You always did appreciate fire.”
Melissa felt heat rise to her cheeks, but she held Makram’s gaze steadily. “Thank you for helping us.”
“Thank him.” Makram nodded towards Becsul. “He’s the one who spent fifteen years building a network of people who owe him favors. I’m just one of many.”
Fifteen years. Melissa filed that information away, adding it to the picture she was slowly building of the man she’d chosen as her mate. Not just a soldier, not just a captain. A leader. Someone who inspired loyalty, who collected debts and friendships with equal care.
What else don’t I know about you?
Makram produced a bundle from the supply cache—food, water, and something that looked like a small medical kit. “The next checkpoint is two hours through the southern branch. Kellan will be waiting. He’ll guide you through the industrial sector to the port access tunnels.”
“And the patrols?”
“Focused on the main entrances, just like you predicted. Naran’s people are looking for you in all the obvious places.” Makram’s expression darkened. “He’s put a substantial bounty on your head. Dead or alive.”
“How substantial?”
“Enough to tempt even loyal friends.” Makram met Becsul’s eyes. “Watch your back, old friend. Not everyone can be trusted when that kind of money is involved.”
Becsul nodded, accepting the warning with the same calm he seemed to accept everything. “We should move.”
They clasped arms again, and Melissa caught the way Makram’s grip tightened, the way his voice dropped when he said, “May your ancestors guide your path.”
“And yours.”
Then they were moving again, deeper into the tunnel network, leaving Makram behind in the darkness.
The southern branchwas rougher than the main passage, the walls slick with moisture and the floor uneven with debris. Melissa’s legs ached from the constant walking, her back protesting the weight of Robbie against her chest, but she gritted her teeth and kept pace with the others.
Sarah was struggling too—Melissa could see it in the way she shifted Katie’s weight, the slight hitch in her breathing. But she didn’t complain, didn’t ask for rest. None of them did.
They were all too aware of what was at stake.
