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Toren didn't nod. Instead, his nostrils flared. He leaned down even further, his face brushing past Tyler’s ear as he took a deep, deliberate breath, inhaling the scent of the grime and the strange oils coating the human's skin.

Tyler tensed completely, profound bewilderment and sudden aggravation crossing his face as he struggled weakly against Toren's iron grip. "What the hell are you doing?" he snapped, flinching away from the close contact. "Get off me!"

Toren pulled back, a look of mild distaste crossing his features as he released the boy's shoulder. "You stink," Toren said plainly, his eyes drifting down until they locked on the heavy, dark band forged around the human's throat. He reached out a calloused finger and tapped the cold metal. "And what is this contraption around your neck? Vakra iron?"

Tyler’s hand flew to the collar, his expression darkening as he opened his mouth to answer⁠—

"Enough!" I groaned impatiently, the sound cutting through the vaulted chamber like a thunderclap. I stepped between them, my daggers flashing as I pointed the tip of my blade directly at Tyler’s chest, cutting off the conversation entirely. The air was thick, my mate was bleeding somewhere in the dark, and we were wasting precious seconds analysing a slave's collar.

"I don't care about his name, and I don't care about his chains," I hissed, my jaw locked so tight the muscles in my neck strained. I leaned over Tyler, the golden fire in my eyes pinning him to the stone. "The Vakra sent you out here for a reason, Tyler. Stop talking and just tell me what direction to go."

Tyler didn't waste another second. He gave a single, tight nod, turned on his heel, and sprinted back into the dark mouth of the eastern tunnel.

We followed him deeper into the belly of the crust, our bare feet throwing up clouds of dry dust and grit from the uneven floor. The raw stone walls began to vibrate, a heavy, mechanical hum echoing from somewhere far in the distance. The deeper we went, the more the natural cave system fractured, revealing of rough-hewn upper ledges and scaffolding planks driven directly into the high crevices of the cavern roof.

I glanced up at the shadowed heights, my tactical instincts momentarily cutting through the static of my rage. "Mara," I called out over the mechanical rumble, not breaking stride. "Take the upper shelves. Get a view of whatever we are walking into."

She didn't question the order. With a fluid leap, Mara launched herself off a boulder, her calloused toes catching the edge of a high wooden plank as she vanished into the upper shadows to scout the high ground.

As we pressed on behind Tyler, a heavy, unnatural quiet settled over the corridor. The scuffling of the dregs and the typical chatter of the lower shafts had completely vanished. It was too quiet. A ghost town. The stillness felt deliberate. Calculated. The kind of silence that existed when predators waited in the dark.

But I didn't give a shit. Let them hide in the dark. Let them plan. Every heartbeat brought me closer to the mate bond screaming in my chest, and I would walk through a wall of fire to reach her.

We rounded a steep decline where the dirt floor gave way to shattered slate. Suddenly, the stale air shifted. Through the thick stench of sulfur, a foul, familiar scent hit the back of my throat—the stagnant, reptilian odour of Vakra warriors lying in wait just around the next massive bend.

"They're waiting," I hissed, picking up the pace as my skymetal daggers gleamed in the low light.

Toren caught the shift a second later. Without a word, he reached out a massive arm, grabbed Tyler by the shoulder and shoved the human male safely behind his armoured torso, shielding him from the impending front line.

I lunged toward the opening of the large cavern chamber, my muscles coiled to tear the first throat I saw.

"Wait! No!" Tyler suddenly screamed from behind Toren, his brave face completely shattering into panic. "It's a trap! There's an ambush⁠—"

He didn't get to finish the warning. A horrific, sharp hiss erupted from the heavy iron band around Tyler’s neck. The dark metal suddenly constricted, locking down like a vice around his throat as arcs of blinding blue electricity crackled across the iron, shocking him instantly. Tyler let out a choked, suffocating gasp, his knees buckling as the lethal current tore through his body, the Vakra's remote punishment intended to crush his larynx before he could betray them further.

"Hold!" Toren roared.

Instead of drawing his sword, Toren dropped to his knees beside the seizing human male. Gritting his teeth, the massive vanguard warrior jammed his thick, calloused fingers directly between Tyler’s bleeding neck and the suffocating iron collar. Muscles bulging in his forearms, Toren let out a primal grunt of absolute exertion, using his raw, monstrous strength to violently wedge the metal apart, taking the brunt of the electrical shocks through his own palms to keep the boy from being strangled to death.

From just beyond the threshold, the wet, guttural clicks of Vakra war-chants and the rustle of armour echoed violently.

Hearing the enemy, I didn't wait for Toren. I sprinted into the massive opening of the primary cavern chamber.

SLAM.

The moment my bare feet crossed the threshold, a massive, heavy gate woven from the thick, jagged bones of giant underground beasts crashed down from the ceiling. The heavy bone bars embedded themselves deep in the dirt-and-rock floor with a deafening thud, sealing the archway behind me. I spun around, my daggers hitting the reinforced bone structure, but it was unyielding. On the other side, Toren was still on the ground, his fingers strained as he held the shocking collar apart, Tyler gasping for air beneath him. They were trapped. I was on my own.

I turned back slowly, the golden fire in my eyes igniting as I scanned the sprawling, industrialised arena.

And then, I saw her.

In the distance, standing right against the sleek, humming control console, was Lyra. Her skin was pale, marred by dirt and blood, her breathing shallow. Standing directly behind her was Sila, her long, clawed fingers gripping Lyra’s hair, forcing her head back while a rusted Vakra blade rested flush against her throat. Sila looked directly at me, her mouth parting into a wide, malicious smile of pure triumph.

"Look what walked into the cage," Sila purred.

The world stopped. The deafening roar of the machinery, the hiss of the pressurised steam, the metallic clatter of weapons along the perimeter—it all vanished into an absolute, breathless vacuum.

She was alive.