Page 50 of Born Savage

This was nothing more than an ancient relic symbolizing the very heart of destruction, a tomb waiting to consume its members. At least given the distance from shore, the walls had yet to be breached by the toxic bodies of water crisscrossing the continent. It was only a matter of time until nothing underground would be considered secure.

Star maintained a significant distance, flanked by men who would obviously do whatever was necessary to protect her.

While they’d seen better days and had been stronger in their youth and vigor, I held full admiration for their determination to keep her safe.

Yet I’d kill them if necessary.

That’s what I’d been trained to do.

Seconds later, sounds rumbled in the corridor. Someone was running toward us. While my men bristled, reaching for their weapons, I already knew the sound, the weight of feet scurrying down the hallway.

Then a bark, a single yap echoing in the space.

As the child appeared from around a corner, Wrath muttered under his breath. The girl came as a package deal.

She stopped short when she noticed the number of people in the corridor, her eyes opening wide initially from the same level of terror I’d seen before. It struck me how similar Star’s saving of the child had been to years before and just how many things had changed.

“It’s alright, Wren. They’re not going to hurt us,” Star told her. “I will see to that.” The bite in her voice as she turned, finding me through the crowd was meant to annoy me.

Just the opposite occurred.

“I haven’t seen a dog in years,” Shaun said as he crouched to the animal’s level, tentatively reaching behind the pup’s ears to stroke his fur.

“His barking could become an issue,” another snarked. “He should be driven into the wild.”

Star snapped her head toward him. I was fascinated by her reaction, especially since she’d driven the tip of her blade into one of her own.

Wren grabbed the dog by the scruff of the neck, her eyes wild with horror. She understood every word.

The man was shocked, throwing up his hands. It was interesting to note the increase in adrenaline as well as the odor of fear. Another indication many if not all respected her power if not her position.

“If you lay one hand on the pup, you will not enjoy what happens in the middle of the night while you’re sleeping. Do you understand me, Drake?”

“Jesus, Star. It’s an animal, Commander. They carry diseases and could be affected by the radiation. You know what’s happened to almost every other species.”

We all did. What had once been mostly peaceful animals thriving in the forests and trees had changed in the aftermath of the war, vicious predators born in their wake.

“Yeah? So what? Jake belongs to Wren. No one will hurt him. No one.” She even bared her teeth and every muscle was tense from her anger. When he didn’t respond as quickly as she wanted, she twisted the knife until a few drops of blood appeared.

“Star.” Peter’s voice was soft, as if the voice of reason. “No one in this village will touch Jake. I promise you. Now, tensions are high given our visitors. We must pull together. All of us.”

Her eyes flickered recognition of what he was saying, yet she remained tense from uncertainty. We both were.

What no one expected was for the dog to break free, moving through the others toward me. In a surprise, Jake placed his paw on my leg, peering up at me as if asking if I’d keep him protected as well. All eyes were on me, every muscle tense including when I pulled the pup into my arms.

Did they honestly think I was going to kill the dog in front of them? Perhaps snap the pup’s neck? Evidently as the villagers reached for their weapons once again.

Even Drake.

The girl was far more astonishing than I’d given her credit for, placing her small hand on first one then the other. All while shaking her head, a quiet knowing how strong the bond was with Jake.

Very slowly, she moved toward me, uncertain but determined. Just like the child I’d saved.

When she was only a few inches away, her icy eyes reflecting the light, she nodded just once. An acknowledgement. A tether that shouldn’t exist.

“I will find a collar and leash,” I said and even though there was no way the child understood what I meant, she seemed appreciative I was offering something to both.

The moment was unusual, fracturing the tension that still remained.