Chapter 12

12

H e'd never get over how tiny humans were.

It was easy to forget how small they were when the only ones he saw were Davis, who he could now see was basically a giant compared to ants, and Jesh. She was smaller, nearer the average for humanity from what he could tell, but in isolation and aboard the Dream , it was easily to forget and just consider her cute. Covak grumbled under his breath as he contorted his big body into a pretzel to fit in the ridiculously small human-sized chair in front of the scanner's control panel.

He flicked a glance at the female on the bed, his mind drifting back to the night before. He'd held her in his arms, her tiny body fitting perfectly against his. Her warmth, her scent—it all stuck with him, embedded in his memory. He hadn't slept a wink, too caught up in the feel of her in his arms to risk missing a moment.

He flexed his fingers, pulling his claws as far back as he could. They still clicked against the little plastic keys.

Covak stared at the human tech. They had to be frexxing kidding. He'd seen more advanced gear in a junkyard. His gut clenched. What if this primitive stuff fried Jesh's circuits instead of scanning them? He flexed his claws, wanting nothing more than to smash the outdated console.

It got worse. He bit back his groan as he scanned over the text on the screen. The human language was a jumble of nonsense symbols. And that was saying something given Vorrtan could be mistaken for chicken scratches in the dirt half the time.

"What's taking so long?" Ryke asked in impatience, walking to the window to look out. It had nothing to do with checking the view and everything to do with checking on an escape route should they need it. "We don't have all day."

Covak narrowed his eyes and concentrated on the words on screen. "Just give me a moment. It's not easy when I have to learn a new language on the fly. Human tech isn't exactly intuitive."

Ryke turned to look at him from the window. "Learn a new language? What about your translation implant?"

He shrugged. "Don't have one. Never did."

He felt both Anson and Ryke turn to stare at him. "What… we've heard you speak at least a dozen languages over the years," Anson said. "How is that possible without an implant?"

Covak shrugged, his massive shoulders rippling beneath his body armor. "Vorrtan are good with languages. We learn by immersion, not by relying on technology to do the work for us."

Turning back to the scanner, he studied the shapes of the letters. They seemed familiar, like if he just squinted and looked at them sideways, they'd make sense. His smile widened as he spotted first one word and then another… then it was a cascade as the language made sense. His claws clacked against the keys as he began to type, setting up the scan and initiating it.

"Amazing," Anson murmured, looking over his shoulder. "I'd really like to know what the first emperor put into you guys when he built the Vorrtan. You worked that out almost as quickly as I could have."

Covak grunted. It was what he and every other Vorrtan were made for. Adapt, overcome, conquer. He looked over at Jesh and added "protect" to the list.

His eyes locked on to the screen as her scans flickered to life. He leaned in, squinting at the images. Then his breath caught.

"Frex me," he growled. The data made no sense. No, human bodies didn't work like this… couldn't work like this.

"What's wrong?" Ryke demanded as he and Anson crowded in behind him.

He jabbed a claw at the display. "This isn't human tech. No way in hell they managed this."

"What do you mean?"

His fingers flew over the controls, bringing up more detailed scans. Each new image only deepened his amazement and concern.

"Look." He gestured to the screen. "Her system isn't just enhanced with cybernetics. It's built from the ground up. Her entire skeleton, her joints—they're all artificial."

His jaw clenched as he studied the scans. Jesh's insides looked like a fucking battleship. Some kind of high-tech mesh cocooned her organs, pulsing with energy. Her nervous system… shit. He'd never seen anything like it. His years of medical training suddenly felt like a joke. He might as well have been a kid with a toy doctor's kit trying to understand a quantum computer.

"My god," Anson breathed, as he reached past Covak to flip through the files and images. "It's like nothing I've ever seen."

He met their gazes as they all came to the same realization. Jesh wasn't just a soldier who had been trained for war. She had been literally built for it.

"What's wrong?" Jesh called out, her voice tense.

Covak turned, plastering on a fake smile. They were behind the operator's screen, an electro-field ensuring the operator wouldn't be subjected to any residual effects from the scanner, which also meant she couldn't hear their conversation. From where she was, she wouldn't be able to see the results of the scans either.

He caught the worry in her eyes and had seen the vulnerability that lay beneath her fierce exterior last night. His gut twisted. All he wanted to do was shield her from this shit, to walk across the room and pull her into his arms… hold her like he had last night. But he couldn't. Not right now. The clock was ticking.

"Nothing's wrong," he stepped outside the field to reassure her. "Just some issues with this primitive as fuck technology. I'm grabbing the last set of scans now."

Covak spun back to the console and punched in the final scan sequence. This shit was going to blow their world apart, especially Jesh's. He clenched his jaw. Didn't matter what freaky tech she had inside her or who came gunning for her. He'd rip apart anyone who tried to hurt her. Not just as her medic or teammate. As her mate.

The final beep of the scanner echoed in the tense silence of the room, and his fingers flew over the keys as he gathered all the data and saved it to his storage key. Yanking it from the system, he looped it around his neck as he stepped aside to let Anson at the console. Within minutes, the male would have destroyed any trace of them in the system and any evidence they'd ever been here.

Striding across to the bed, he hauled Jesh up against his chest, holding her protectively.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's get the hell out of here."

Davis followed the doctor out of the examination room, his heavy boots silent on the polished floor. He stayed light on his feet, ready to plaster himself into the meagre cover offered by the doorways he passed at a moment's notice in case the doctor turned around, but the guy didn't seem to realize he was being followed.

Davis shook his head. Furtive and almost definitely up to something, but he wasn't checking his back… he wouldn't last a day in some of the places Davis had found himself. Those places had taught him to follow his instincts and always check when someone acted sketchy. Like the doctor… the man's behavior stank worse than week-old fish left in the sun. Yeah, sure, he was already breaking oaths and contracts by letting them use millions in medical equipment unsupervised, but this was more than that. There had been a calculating look in his beady eyes when he'd looked at Jesh and the other Reapers that Davis didn't trust for a second.

No, he was fairly sure Doctor Rettnor knew what the Reapers were, if not who. And if he had already taken a bribe from Maxim Martell, who else would he take money from… and for what?

The doctor disappeared around a corner up ahead, Davis tucking himself in the lee of a door and freezing for the half second he would be in Rettnor's peripheral vision.

He expected to be caught then and there, but the doctor swept right on by. Davis shook his head, his lip curling back slightly. Forget a day, this asshole wouldn't last a few hours.

Hurrying to catch up and see where Rettnor had gone, he reached the corner just in time to see an office door close. A smile creased his lips. Bingo. He reached it in a few strides, pausing for a second outside. Muffled voices leaked through, making him frown.

Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed from behind the door, followed by a muffled cry of pain. The sound of flesh hitting flesh filtered through the wood, followed by a whimper that made his blood boil.

What the fuck?

He burst into the doctor's office, his hand already reaching for the inner door, but it clicked shut before he could grasp the handle. He cursed under his breath and then froze as movement caught his eye. A small figure stood near the desk in the outer office, and he turned to face her.

The doctor's PA stared back at him, her blue eyes wide with surprise and something else… fear? Anger? She quickly slipped a crumpled tissue into her pocket, but not before he caught a glimpse of red. Shit. Was that blood?

His jaw clenched as he took in her appearance. She was petite, with blonde hair pulled back in a neat bun, but strands had escaped to frame her face. A face that, despite its delicate features, now bore a hardened expression as she glared at him.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of tension. She straightened her shoulders, as if preparing for a confrontation. Her hands shook as she smoothed down her skirt, and his eyes narrowed.

"What happened?" he demanded, gesturing toward the closed inner door. "I heard?—"

"Nothing," she cut him off sharply, her chin lifting in defiance. "Nothing happened. And you shouldn't be in here. This is a private office. I'll call security?—"

He was across the space between them in a heartbeat, his hand wrapping around her slender throat.

"No. You won't."

Her eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. Now that he was nearer, he could see the faint traces of a bruise on her cheekbone, expertly concealed by makeup. His blood simmered.

"Let… let me go," she choked out. Her pulse raced in her throat, a frantic flutter against his palm that betrayed her fear despite her attempt at defiance.

He loosened his grip slightly. "We are not done here," he growled. "Not by a long shot."

Davis turned his attention to the inner office door, his jaw clenching so hard he was surprised he didn't break his teeth. The thought of someone laying hands on this woman—on anyone smaller and weaker—made his vision blur red with rage. He'd seen too many bullies in his life, watched them prey on those who couldn't fight back. It made his blood boil.

"Stay here," he ordered her, finally letting her go. She stumbled back a step, gasping, but he was already moving toward the inner door. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, his knuckles white with tension. He was going to teach the asshole doctor a lesson he wouldn't soon forget. See how he liked being on the receiving end for a change. But she got between him and the door in a heartbeat. "You can't go in there!" she hissed, her voice low but sharp.

"Watch me, sweetheart," he growled, moving her aside and reaching for the door handle again.

Her hand shot out, gripping his wrist. She barely managed to get her fingers halfway around. "I said , you can't go in there."

He jerked his arm back, annoyance flaring through him. "And who the hell are you to stop me?"

"Someone who knows what's going on in there better than you do," she fired back, her chin jutting out again defiantly.

"Then enlighten me, princess." He crossed his arms, looming over her. "What's so damn important in there?"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "That's none of your business. Just turn around and walk away before you get yourself into something you can't handle."

He barked out a harsh laugh. "Sweetheart, you have absolutely no idea what I can handle."

Without waiting for a response, he pushed past her and through the door.

Rettnor was hunched over his desk, speaking in hushed tones into a comm unit. As Davis burst in, the doctor's head snapped up, his eyes widening in shock. A guilty expression flashed across his face before he quickly composed himself. As soon as he saw Davis, he cut the call instantly, a smug expression settling on his rat-like face.

"Can I help you, Mr. Peters?" he asked, his voice dripping with false politeness. But Davis saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes darted nervously toward the door.

Davis glared at Rettnor, his eyes narrowing. "Cut the crap, Doc. Who were you talking to just now?"

Rettnor's smug expression faltered for a moment. "I don't see how that's any of your business, Mr. Peters. Doctor-patient confidentiality, you understand."

"Bullshit," Davis spat. "I know you're in bed with Maxim Martell. So who else are you selling us out to?"

The doctor's face paled slightly, but he didn't crack. " I don't know what you're talking about. Now, if you'll excuse me?—"

"Not a chance," Davis growled, stepping closer to the desk. "You're going to tell me who was on that call, or things are going to get very… unpleasant for you."

Rettnor's eyes hardened. "Is that a threat, Mr. Peters? I assure you, I have powerful friends who?—"

Davis didn't let him finish. In one swift motion, he reached across the desk and spun the comm console around. "Let's see for ourselves. Shall we?"

"You can't trace that call," the doctor snarled, and then his gaze landed on his PA, hovering in the doorway behind Davis. "Mira, get out!" Rettnor barked, his face contorting with anger. "This doesn't concern you!"

Mira. The little blonde's name was Mira.

Davis held up a hand, his voice firm but laced with contempt. "Oh no, she stays. I think she's involved in this more than you want to admit, Doc."

The PA froze, her eyes darting between Davis and the doctor, fear and uncertainty warring with the anger in her expression. Davis studied her more closely, his eyes narrowed as he glanced at the photos on the doctor's desk. The smiling, vibrant woman in those images bore little resemblance to the pale, angry creature standing before him now.

"Why do you put up with this shit?" he asked her bluntly, his voice gruff. "You could leave. I can get you out of here."

Rettnor's face turned an ugly shade of red as he rounded on Mira. "Don't you dare think about it, you dumb blonde!" he snarled, spittle flying from his lips. "You're nothing without me. You hear? Nothing! You keep your pretty little mouth shut if you know what's good for you. Or have you forgotten what happened the last time you crossed me?"

Davis opened his mouth tell the asshole to shut the fuck up, but before he could, Mira's expression shifted. Something in her eyes changed, becoming hard and focused. Without warning, she stepped past him to the comms console.

"What are you doing?"

"What I should have done fucking years ago," she shot back, her delicate fingers flying over the keyboard. "He's not as clever as he thinks he is."

Rettnor lunged forward with a roar. "You little bitch! Get away from there!"

Davis was between the doctor and Mira in a heartbeat. Grabbing the man's wrist, he yanked it up behind his back in one vicious movement. Rettnor let out a pained yelp.

"I don't think so," Davis growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Let's see what your better half has to show us. Shall we?"

Furious typing and the doctor's enraged sputtering filled the room. Rettnor struggled against his iron hold, his face turning redder by the second.

"You can't do this!" Rettnor yelled. "Do you know who I am? Who I work for?"

Davis just tightened his grip, a cold smile playing on his lips as he felt the bones of the doctor's arm begin to creak. Much more and they'd snap. "That's what I'm counting on finding out."

Davis maintained his iron grip on Rettnor in case he made any sudden moves, but he couldn't take his eyes off Mira.

Her fingers danced across the keyboard as she focused on the screen. Her blonde hair had come loose, falling in wisps around her face, and her blue eyes blazed with determination.

He forced down a wave of attraction that made him feel like a complete bastard. This woman had obviously been through hell, abused and scared, and here he was, thinking how sexy she looked. He was an asshole and a half.

A voice cut through the air, cold and sharp as a blade. Davis's head snapped toward the screen, his eyes narrowing as he took in the face that appeared. The man stared out from the display, his features hard and chiseled, every line screaming "career soldier." The man's eyes were cold and calculating, devoid of any warmth or humanity. Just looking at him made Davis's skin crawl.

His lip curled. He knew the type… a fucking shark in uniform, the kind of bastard who'd throw his own mother to the wolves for a shot at another stripe.

The screen split down the middle, showing the doctor's face on the other side.

"You have her?" the soldier asked, his voice as sharp as a blade.

"In the flesh," Rettnor replied eagerly. "Recognized her as soon as I saw her."

The soldier's eyes narrowed, a predatory gleam in their depths. "Excellent. And you're certain it's her? We don't tolerate mistakes."

"Absolutely," Rettnor assured him, puffing up with self-importance. "She matches the description perfectly. And there's more… she's not alone."

The soldier leaned forward, interest in his dead gray eyes. "Go on."

"She's with a group of men," Rettnor said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Aliens by the look of them. One's a huge brute of a thing."

"Interesting," the soldier mused, rubbing at his chin. "This complicates things. We'll need to adjust our extraction plan for the additional numbers."

"About that," the doctor butted in, a greedy glint in his eye. "I think this information is worth more than we initially agreed. After all, I'm taking quite a risk here. With aliens here and all that. My clients?—"

The soldier's face hardened. "Don't push your luck, Doctor. You'll be compensated fairly for your cooperation. Any attempt at extortion will be… poorly received."

Rettnor blanched. "Of course, of course. I just thought?—"

"You thought wrong," the soldier cut him off. "Secure the subject and her companions. We'll be there within the hour. Do not let them leave."

The call cut off abruptly, leaving the room in stunned silence.

Davis's blood ran cold as the full implications of what he'd just heard sank in. They had been betrayed, and they didn't have much time.

With a swift movement, Davis knocked the doctor out, the man's body crumpling to the floor with a dull thud. But Mira wasn't done, leaning forward to type rapidly.

"What are you doing now?" he asked, moving closer to look at the screen.

"Sending all the dirt on him to the news outlets," she replied crisply.

He raised an eyebrow. "Not the authorities?"

She barked out a small, bitter laugh. "Not a chance. He and his buddies would just pay them off. Once the news gets a sniff of this, though, they'll be after him like sharks with blood in the water. It'll be a feeding frenzy. They'll keep going until they've got him."

"Nice work," he said gruffly, reaching out to grab her arm. "But we need to move. Now."

She jerked away from his touch, her eyes flashing with anger. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she snapped. "I don't even know who you are!"

Davis clenched his jaw, frustration rising. They didn't have time for this.

"Look, sweetheart, I get that you're scared and pissed off. But those guys on the call? They're coming here, and trust me, you don't want to be around when they show up."

She crossed her arms, her chin jutting out defiantly. "I can handle myself. I've dealt with Rettnor for years. I can?—"

"This isn't about Rettnor anymore," Davis cut her off by the simple act of bending down and throwing her over his shoulder. Ignoring her screeching, he set off at a run back through the corridors.

He needed to get back to the others because they were about to have company…