Page 27 of Enslak

And he didn't care.

All that mattered was keeping me safe.

He turned back to the guards, positioning himself between me and every weapon, every threat. A bolt meant for me struck his shoulder instead. Another aimed at my head caught him in the arm. He was using his body as a shield, deliberately and consciously, taking every shot that should have been mine.

"No," I screamed. "No, don't—"

But he was already moving again, launching himself at the nearest cluster of guards. His claws became a blur, opening throats and chests with terrifying efficiency. Blood sprayed. Bodies fell.

A guard tried to circle around, looking for a clear shot at me. Enslak saw it and intercepted, his hand closing around the man's head and twisting. The crack of breaking vertebrae echoed sickeningly loud.

Another bolt hit him, this one in the side just below his ribs. I saw him flinch, saw the way his breathing changed, becoming labored and wet.

"Enslak." I tried to move toward him, tried to help somehow.

But he pushed me back with one massive hand, his eyes never leaving the remaining guards. There were still at least eight of them left, maybe ten. They'd spread out, trying to flank us, searching for openings. Enslak moved to intercept every attempt, his body a constant barrier between me and them, absorbing bolt after bolt meant for me.

He killed two more guards, his movements starting to slow as the injuries mounted. His breathing grew ragged, blood soaking through his fur and dripping onto the ground in a steady stream.

But he didn't stop. Didn't hesitate.

A bolt caught him in the leg. His knee buckled and he went down, catching himself on one hand. A guard saw the opening, raised his weapon, aimed directly at me.

Enslak lunged from his knees, covering the distance in a desperate leap. His claws caught the guard's weapon arm, tearing it from the socket in a spray of blood. His teeth found the man's throat, ending him.

Another bolt caught his back, then his shoulder.

"Stop!" The scream tore from my throat, raw and desperate. "Enslak, stop. Just run."

He didn't even look at me.

Another guard went down, throat torn open.

"Please." I was screaming now, the words barely coherent. "You're going to die. Just run."

His ears twitched, the only sign he'd heard me.

But he didn't run. Didn't even slow down. He positioned himself between me and the remaining guards, his massive body swaying, blood pooling beneath him.

"Enslak, please." My voice cracked. "Just go."

For a fraction of a second, his golden eyes met mine. There was no confusion in them. No hesitation. Just absolute, unwavering certainty.

He turned back to the guards.

He wasn't going to run. Would never run, not while I was in danger, not while there was still breath in his body.

He killed the last three guards in a flurry of violence too fast to follow: claws and teeth and raw, brutal strength.

When it was over, he stood among the bodies, chest heaving. Blood, his and theirs, covered every inch of him. His eyes found mine, still gold, still aware, still protecting me.

The whine of engines cut through the air. I glanced up, catching Binwee's ship descending fast with the hatch already open.

"Come on." I grabbed Enslak's hand and pulled him toward the ship. "We're almost there. Just a little further."

He followed, his steps unsteady now. I could see the damage clearly: multiple blaster wounds, blood soaking through his fur, breathing labored and wet. One leg barely supported his weight. His left arm hung at an odd angle.

But he kept moving. Kept following me.