Chapter 34
The Hive.
The city was silent, save for the sound of their footsteps crunching over ash and broken glass. Sorin led them through the ruins, his movements quick and deliberate. Ayla trailed behind, her gaze darting to the skeletal remains of buildings, their frames scorched and jagged. Ravyn brought up the rear, his mechanical joints whirring softly as he scanned for threats.
“Bombed to hell,” Sorin muttered, his voice tight. He ran a hand through his dirty hair, sweat tracing lines through the grime on his face. “This was a thriving trade hub once. People with lives came here. Families. Now, it’s just—” He kicked a chunk of debris, his lips curling in disgust. “Another graveyard.”
Ayla crouched, running her fingers over the pale dust coating the ground. “War,” she said quietly, “it’s like a wildfire. It doesn’t stop until everything’s gone.”
Ravyn crouched beside her, his glowing eyes narrowing as his sensors flickered. “That’s not dust,” he said, his tone mechanical, emotionless. “It’s ash. Bones. An entire city, reduced to powder.”
Ayla flinched, her hand recoiling. “This is—”
“This is what Kael does,” Sorin interrupted, his voice rising. He spun on them, his jaw tight. “And don’t think the Resistance is any better. Both sides love to claim they’re fighting for a cause, but look around.” He swept a hand toward the ruined city. “This is their ‘cause.’”
The three stood in silence, the weight of his words settling over them like the ash that coated their boots. Then, faintly, they heard it—a low, guttural roar, like thunder rolling in the distance.
Sorin froze. “You hear that?”
Ayla tilted her head, listening. The sound grew louder, more distinct: engines, revving hard, closing fast.
“They’re coming,” Ravyn said flatly.
“Who’s coming?” Ayla asked, her voice sharp.
Sorin’s face darkened. “Ratpacks.”
The name hung in the air like a threat.
“Move,” Sorin barked, grabbing Ayla’s arm and dragging her toward the nearest building. “Now.”
The three of them slipped into the shadows of a crumbling structure, ducking behind what remained of its walls. Sorin peeked through a crack in the debris, his jaw tightening as the convoy came into view.
Three massive trucks tore through the ruins, their engines growling like beasts. The riders perched on top were feral—bare-chested, tattooed, and smeared with grease. They waved weapons over their heads, flamethrowers spewing streams of fire as they laughed and screamed over the roar of their engines.
Ayla pressed herself against the wall, her breathing shallow. “What the hell are they?”
“Scavengers,” Sorin muttered. “Raiders. They're the ones that take what’s left and burn the rest– they'd make a bounty out of anyone they caught, so it's best we keep our heads low.”
Ravyn’s glowing eyes flicked toward him. “ Seems they’re heading somewhere specific.”
“The Hive,” Sorin said grimly. “ They live in the Underground city– trenches. A place where humanity’s scraps go to die.”
The trucks thundered past, but as the last one roared by, a wiry man perched on its roof turned, scanning the ruins with binoculars. His gaze locked onto the building.
“They’ve see us,” Ravyn said, already moving.
“Shit,” Sorin hissed.