Page 77 of Nansar
"Chloe, run!" Nansar's voice cut through the chaos, raw with desperation.
Run where? We were pinned down, outnumbered three to one, with our backs against a literal wall of trees. Running meant dying tired.
But more than that—run? Leavehimhere to face this nightmare alone?
The thought should have made perfect sense. I was human. Fragile. Breakable. The weakest link in this chain, the one they'd been protecting since this whole mess started. Running would be the smart play. The logical play.
My feet stayed rooted to the ground.
I looked at Nansar—really looked at him. His platinum hair whipped wild in the wind, catching the light like spun silver. His face was set with the kind of stubborn determination that could move mountains, his jaw tight as he fought off two guards at once. The way he moved was poetry written in violence, fluid and deadly, protecting Ahrick's flank even as he carved through his own opponents. Every ripple of muscle beneath his skin spoke of power barely contained, of strength tempered with surgical precision.
And in that moment, with perfect, terrifying clarity, I understood.
I wasn't leaving him. Not now. Not ever.
Because somewhere between when he'd found me in the forest and now—between his quiet strength and unexpected gentleness, between the way he looked at me like I actually mattered and the way he'd risked everything to keep me safe—I'd gone and done the stupidest, most wonderful thing possible.
I'd fallen in love with him.
The realization bloomed in my chest like a supernova going critical. I loved him. I loved the way he saw me as more than just some fragile human to be rescued. I loved the gentleness of his touch, so careful despite the violence he was capable of. I loved his protectiveness, the way his eyes softenedwhen they found mine across a room. I loved him with a ferocity that scared me, and I'd be damned—literally damned—if I was going to run away and leave him to die.
"Not a chance!" I shouted back, my voice ferocious with newfound determination. I left the cover of the rock, snatching up a fallen Trogvyk's weapon, my fingers flying over the controls to check its charge. Still half full. Thank God for small mercies. "We fight together or not at all!"
Nansar's eyes found mine across the clearing, and something passed between us—a current of understanding. A connection that ran deeper than words, deeper than species, deeper than the chaos raging around us. His expression shifted, just for a heartbeat—surprise, maybe, or something warmer—before he turned back to the advancing guards with renewed intensity, fighting like a man who suddenly had everything to lose.
If we were going down, we were going down together.
Chapter 20
Chloe
The clearing became a maelstrom of violence.
Ahrick was a force of nature, his massive frame cutting through three guards like they were made of paper, but even gods bleed. Even titans fall. Nansar moved beside him with lethal precision, but I caught the flicker in his eyes—that cold, calculating look that told me he was running the numbers. We were outmatched. Outgunned. Out of time.
The Trogvyk ship kept vomiting reinforcements in an endless tide. How many of these bastards could fit in there? I squeezed off shots, dropping three before their boots even hit the ramp, but for every one that fell, two more took their place.
They advanced like a wall of death, weapons raised, faces grim with purpose. My heart hammered against my ribs. Of all the ways I’d thought I’d die, fighting alongside the man I loved on an alien planet hadn’t even ranked. Yet now, it seemed the perfect way to go.
And then the heavens tore open.
The Alliance ship didn't just appear—itmanifested, dropping out of nowhere like divine intervention made metal and fury. Massive. Sleek. Bristling with enough firepower to level a city. It hung suspended above us, blotting out the sun, casting the entire battlefield into shadow.
Every Trogvyk head snapped upward. I watched their expressions morph from bloodlust to terror.
The Alliance didn't bother with warnings.
The first plasma volley hammered into the Trogvyk vessel. Shields flared brilliant blue, crackling with energy—then shattered like a wine glass hitting concrete. The second volley punched clean through the hull, and the third—
The world became fire and thunder.
The explosion ripped through the ship with apocalyptic force, a mushroom cloud of flame and debris that sent shrapnel screaming in every direction. I hit the dirt behind my rock as twisted metal became deadly rain. The heat wave that followed was like opening an oven door to hell itself, scorching the air from my lungs.
When I dared to look, the Trogvyk ship was a gutted carcass, flames licking at its skeleton while black smoke poured into the alien sky like a funeral pyre.
The guards scattered like roaches when the lights come on—some diving for cover, others frozen in shock, staring at the cremated remains of their ride.
The Alliance ship rotated with deadly grace, weapon arrays tracking new prey. Another cascade of plasma fire painted the clearing in strobing blue-white death.
