19. Kira

19

Kira

"Keep them back," Hayes shouts, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

I pop up, squeezing off shots at the advancing soldiers. They fall in droves, but more keep coming. It's a desperate, chaotic fight, the air thick with smoke and the acrid smell of gunpowder.

We retreat, regrouping around the biochemicals. The enemy presses in, and I can see the determination in their eyes. They aren't going to let us leave alive.

Suddenly, the lights flicker and go out, plunging the room into darkness. I hear a low, mechanical hum, and my blood runs cold. The sound promises nothing good.

"Cyborgs? What the fuck," someone screams out.

They emerge from the shadows, hulking figures of metal and flesh, patterned off a very different type of biped. Nothing human, which makes them look all the more terrifying. Their giant eyes glow with an eerie, unnatural light, and their movements are fluid.

Panic surges through me as I realize we are outmatched.

"Hold your ground," Hayes shouts, but his voice wavers.

The cyborgs attack with terrifying speed, their strength overwhelming. I watch in horror as one of them grabs Johnson, lifting him off his feet. He screams, a high-pitched, desperate sound that cuts off abruptly as the cyborg crushes him like a rag doll.

"Johnson!" McCready yells, firing wildly at the cyborg.

The bullets ricochet off its metal plating, doing minor damage. The cyborg turns its oversized eyes on McCready, moving with a predator's lithe beauty. Before he can react, it's on him, tearing him apart with its bare hands.

"No!" I shout, my voice breaking.

Chaos erupts around me. Some of the squad breaks ranks, running for their lives. They don't get far. Some sort of odd energy fire cuts them down, reducing them to smoldering heaps. Others fight valiantly, only to be overwhelmed by the cyborgs' sheer strength.

"Fall back!" Hayes screams, but there is nowhere to go.

I fire at a cyborg advancing on Zeke, the bullets sparking off its armor. It barely flinches, its eyes locking on me. I try to back away, but I trip over a fallen soldier, hitting the ground hard.

"Get up!" Zeke yells, but it is too late.

The cyborg reaches me in an instant, its cold metal hand wrapping around my arm. Pain shoots through me as it squeezes, the bones cracking under the pressure. I scream, a primal, animal sound.

"Let her go!" Zeke shouts, firing at the cyborg's head.

The bullets strike true, and the cyborg's head jerks back. It releases me, and I fall to the ground, clutching my pulped-up arm. The pain is blinding, every heartbeat sending waves of agony through my body.

"Come on, we have to move!" Zeke grabs my good arm, pulling me to my feet.

The fall seems endless, the abyss swallowing me whole as I plummet through the darkness. My lungs burn with each breath, the noxious fumes of something toxic scraping at my insides. I scratch and claw with my one good arm, desperate for something to hold on to, but there's nothing. My other arm—where is my other arm? The pain where it should be is a dull throb, a constant reminder of its absence.

The darkness presses in, squeezing my chest until I feel it might collapse around me. I can't breathe, can't think. I'm drowning in this abyss, and there's no escape. My screams are silent, swallowed by the void.

***

Suddenly, I feel something warm. It starts at my back, a gentle heat that spreads through my body, soothing the pain and the panic. It wraps around me, a comforting presence that makes the terror fade. It's nice, so very nice. I lean into it, letting the warmth calm me. For a moment, I almost forget where I am.

Then reality comes crashing back. I'm not falling anymore. I'm being held. The warmth is a body, and I'm pressed against it. My cheeks heat up with embarrassment, and I'm grateful for my dark skin hiding the flush.

Sensation returns to the rest of my body, and I realize I'm being spooned against a soft belly with smooth, velvety skin. My heart plummets as I crane my head back and see Drasuk.

"Get the fornicate off me," I yelp, struggling to break free.

Instead, he pulls me closer, cradling me against his underbelly with a tight grip around my waist. His other hand is hovering over my shoulder, as if he's completely fine with dragon-handling me like a jerk but isn't sure if he should touch me there.

My throat is still raw from the dream, and now my chest is filled with my rage at being confined.