Page 26 of Wicked Depths

For a split second, I don’t react fast enough.

I see the glint of steel, the sharp downward arc of the strike—

A roar sounds, followed by a blur of black scales.

Nyxara moves faster than thought, intercepting the blow before it can land. Her tail sweeps through the clearing, striking the man mid-swing. He barely has time to scream before he’s flung through the air like a broken doll, crashing into the jagged remains of a ruined pillar.

I exhale sharply, my heart hammering. That… was too close.

Nyxara lands hard beside me, shifting mid-step, her dragon form dissolving into flesh and shadow.

She’s breathing heavily, her eyes blazing as they scan me, sharp and assessing. She steps closer, her talons brushing my arm, tracing the space where the blade almost struck.

“You’re reckless,” she snaps.

I smirk, shaking off the lingering rush of adrenaline. “And yet, here I stand.”

Her talons linger. I should pull away. She should. Neither of us do. Her touch is warm, her gaze smoldering with something unspoken. For a moment—just a moment—I think she was scared. For me.

Interesting.

The thought sparks something deep, something curious. Something dangerous.

I glance up at her, letting my lips curve into a slow smirk. “Careful, Dragon Queen,” I murmur, voice silk and smoke. “You might make me think you care.”

Her jaw tightens. I expect her to snap back, to deny it, to pull away—she doesn’t. She only holds my gaze, something unreadable flickering in the depths of her emerald eyes. The silence between us stretches, thick and charged, until a groan is heard.

I whip around, scanning the ruined camp. One of the men is still alive, coughing up blood as he tries to crawl away. He’s the last one. Nyxara moves before I do, closing the distance in a few short strides.

The man gasps, blood bubbling at his lips as he claws weakly at the blade buried in his stomach. His eyes are wide, frantic, pleading—not for mercy, but for the chance to keep breathing, to keep fighting.

Nyxara offers him neither.

She grips the hilt and twists.

A wet, sickening gurgle rips from his throat as steel grinds against bone, his body jerking violently. His hands scrabble against her wrist, weak and useless, his mouth shaping a wordless plea.

She leans in, her voice a whisper of fire and death. "You will never see your homeland again. You die here, nameless. Forgotten. Like the rest of them. For that is the cost of crossing into my realm."

Then, with a brutal yank, she rips the sword free.

His body convulses, blood spilling in a dark torrent, soaking the earth beneath him. His last breath escapes in a shuddering exhale, his eyes already glassing over before his corpse crumples at her feet.

Nyxara steps over him without a glance, her blade still dripping, her rage still burning.

Let the rest of them come.

Let them choke on the ashes of their own arrogance.

She releases him, shoving him back onto the dirt. The man scrambles to his feet, stumbling into the night. I exhale, watching as Nyxara straightens, shoulders rigid with lingering fury. That was mercy. And I’m not sure if I should be surprised. I step closer, my power still humming beneath my skin. Nyxara turns to me, watching. Her expression unreadable and for a moment, it feels like she’s about to say something.

Instead, she exhales sharply, shaking her head. "We’re leaving."

She shifts back before I can push her further, her form stretching, growing, becoming something monstrous and magnificent all over again. I smirk, running a hand through my hair before climbing onto her back.

She takes off, and I don’t look back.

Chapter