Why didn’t she fire?
I saw red. Anger coursed through me, hot and visceral. Harper continued to struggle, to tug at the hold on her leg, her bloody hands trying to find purchase on the smooth metal of the transport pad. Her attacker had the strength to pull her backward, and he reached for her neck, his claws out, a snarl on his face.
He was a dead man. He knew it. He ignored the group of warriors around him, focused on my mate. On her soft, exposed throat as he pulled her closer. His gaze focused on her pulse like a hungry predator
I knew that look, the evil intent behind his hold. I saw myself in him. He wasn’t just the enemy, he was also Hyperion. And from Rogue 5. His uniform was identical to mine and Styx’s, unrelenting black except for the thin band of red on his arm. The dark red of Cerberus legion.
Except—I knew that face.
“Let me go!” Harper screamed, eyes wild and full of fear. Her hair had fallen from the tie that had held it out of her face less than an hour earlier when she’d left us in the hallway. Her cheeks were marred with dirt and a smear of blood. Her green uniform was torn at one shoulder and at her right knee. And she was covered in blood.
I leapt up onto the raised dais and ignored Harper. Tending to the attacker meant tending to her. He looked so much like me, silver hair, pale and determined eyes.
At my approach, he redoubled his efforts, scrambling to get the job done. That’s what Harper was to him, a kill. An order. As he hooked one hand around Harper’s hip and tugged, she fell onto her back with a scream and kicked at him. He was too focused, his intention too finite for the attack on Harper to be random. Perhaps he’d been on the battlefield to eliminate her. At all costs.
With a growl, I launched myself at him. With his hands occupied with my mate, he had no defense.
“I want him alive!” Captain Vanzar roared. Too late. One swift twist of his head—one of my hands settled at the back of his neck, the other wrapped around his jaw—I snapped his spine with a sickening crunch before the bellowed order registered. I tossed his corpse away like trash. Forgotten.
The captain cursed as the body landed on the pad with a thud.
“Damn it all. Arrest him,” Captain Vanzar ordered, and six ion blasters turned on me. I ignored them, focused only on Harper now.
“She is my mate,” I growled, and all six lowered their weapons.
“Fuck.” The Prillon knew I was within my rights to kill the assassin for daring harm her. Every warrior in the room would have done the same. “Check her,” he ordered one of the others.
I growled a protest as an Atlan neared her and bent close to her head. When he rose to his full height, he looked at his captain and nodded. “She carries his scent.”
“Fine. Take care of your mate, and get the fuck out of my way.” He stormed to the transport pad, yelling for a medical team.
Styx tried to grab Harper, but she crawled to the fallen Atlan, shoving Styx’s hands away. “Warlord Wulf needs a ReGen Pod, now. Right now!” She screamed the order at two Prillon warriors standing near the edge of the platform, and they jolted into motion, lifting the huge male between them and hurrying toward an approaching team of medical personnel wearing green.
Once her patient was taken care of, she turned to Styx for comfort, and I saw my friend, my leader, shudder in relief as he pulled her into his arms. He carried her down the steps and away from any chance of being transported back to the battle accidently.
“Get us down there. Now!” Captain Vanzar gave the order and his entire unit scrambled onto the transport pad as Styx and I carried Harper farther away.
Seconds later, they were gone. Harper watched them go, a shudder passing through her. “They’re too late,” she whispered.
I stood to my full height, clenched my hands into fists, tried to control my breathing. It had been too easy, the Hyperion’s death. I needed to kill him again. And again. Slowly.
“What happened?” Styx asked. His hands roamed her, searching for injuries. “Are you hurt?”
Impatient, she shoved his hands away. “No. The blood’s not mine. It’s Wulf’s.” She craned her neck, perhaps looking for him, perhaps simply watching and listening to the transport team and organized chaos of the transport dock.
“What happened, Harper?” I asked, unable to wait. Afraid to touch her, afraid I’d yank her from Styx’s arms. Frighten her further.
“There were three of them. Wulf saved me,” Harper said, pushing against Styx’s firm hold. He loosened his arms, but didn’t release her.
“Three attackers caused all this chaos?” I demanded.
She shook her head, staring at the now empty platform. “No. There were dozens of them. All wearing those arm bands. They were taking everyone. Taking blasters and all of our gear. Loading the survivors onto their shuttles.” She blinked, now clinging to Styx. It seemed she couldn’t decide if she wanted to push him away or hold him close. “Why would they do that?”
Dozens? Were they planning to attack Zenith as well? Would more of Cerberus’ legion come after our mate? “Shut down transports,” I said to the technician.
“I don’t take orders from you, merc. I’ve got a battleship unit ready to transport from the Karter. Injured warriors to be brought here to the med unit. The rest of the MedRec group to evacuate. Get your mate out of here. I’m busy.”
“Someone tried to kill her—” I bit out the words through clenched teeth. I didn’t break his neck solely because Harper was standing in front of me, safe in Styx’s arms. “This station isn’t safe.” I angled my head to the now vacant transport pad.