Page 44 of Warrior’s Mate

"How many?" he asked.

Maelis counted.

"At least twenty-seven registered devices. More people may not have active beacons."

"Can we intercept?"

She wanted to say yes. Instead she studied the roads, the distance, the enemy positions, the civilians already depending on them.

"Not without abandoning this shelter and the academy route."

Silence. The choice was obscene because choices like this should not exist.

"Mark them," Kaiven said quietly. "Every signal. Every last-known position."

Maelis's eyes burned.

"I already am."

"Good."

The transport crossed another sensor, and twenty-seven tiny lights moved across her screen. They were alive but not safe, carried away by people who had reduced them to categories and value. Maelis created a new field in the emergency registry.

STATUS: CAPTURED / TRANSPORTED

Her fingers hesitated above the confirmation control. Then she entered the first name. And the next. And the next. By the time the transport vanished beyond the last functioning sensor, the western conduit had swallowed another hundred civilians. Kaiven found her twenty minutes later. He came through the lower corridor with four security officers, armor scorched along one shoulder and blood drying at his temple. Maelis saw the blood before she saw anything else. She crossed the space between them without deciding to.

"You're hurt."

"I'm functional."

"That is a military answer."

"It is also accurate."

She lifted a hand, stopped before touching him, and hated that she had to think about permission when every part of her wanted proof he was solid. Kaiven saw the hesitation.

"You may," he said softly.

Her fingertips touched the warm skin just below the cut, real and startlingly alive. His eyes closed for half a second as the bond recognition surged—not command or certainty, but an awareness so intimate that the crowded corridor briefly seemed private. Maelis lowered her hand.

"Twenty-seven confirmed taken," she said.

His expression changed.

"I know."

"No, you know a transport left. I know their names."

She showed him the registry. He read the first few entries. Farmer. Mechanic. Apprentice. Teacher. Child.

"This changes our objective," she said.

"The objective remains getting civilians out."

"No. It means every group we fail to move isn't just at risk of being killed. They're inventory."

His jaw tightened.