Chapter 172 Meeting Lyric again
Chapter 172 Meeting Lyric again
The blue hum of the kinetic rifles vibrated in the tight space of the gorge, a low, lethal frequency that rattled the fillings in my teeth. Rayder’s massive chest heaved in front of me, a wall of silver-and-black fur blocking the line of fire, his claws extended and dripping with the wild, lethal energy of a cornered Alpha.
Against my collarbone, Winter’s small fingers dug into my leather jacket, his tiny fangs bared in a silent, terrified snarl.
My right hand gripped the silver-lined dagger in my boot. I was calculating the trajectory,how many mercenaries I could drop before the blue lasers opened my chest,when a single, sharp whistle cut through the sulfurous smoke.
It wasn't a military command. It was a wild, piercing rogue call that echoed off the granite walls like the cry of a mountain hawk.
Above us, the synchronized movement of the matte-black barrels stuttered. From a hidden crevice in the shale cliff, where the shadows ran deep and dark, a figure stepped out onto the rocky ledge.
She looked like she had been pulled straight out of the belly of the old world. Her clothes were a tattered patchwork of cured wolf hides, reinforced with scraps of stolen vanguard armor and bound together by dirty leather strips. A heavy, grease-smudged cloak hung from her shoulders, smelling faintly of woodsmoke, wet earth, and old Northern blood. Her long, dark hair was matted with dried mud and tied back with a strip of rough hemp, her face streaked with soot. She looked less like a commander and more like the feral queen of a starving pack of ghosts.
Right behind her, stepping quietly out of the dust, was a lean, pale man with steady gray eyes. Kael. He wore the same rugged, mountain-worn gear, a long hunting rifle slung across his back, his posture relaxed but entirely protective as he stepped into her shadow.
An Omega by birth, but carrying the quiet, unbreakable resilience of a man who had survived the deep winter at the edge of the world.
The moment she appeared, a collective, guttural grunt rose from the mercenaries in the gorge. They lowered their weapons by a fraction of an inch, bowing their heads in a rough, uncoordinated show of deference.
"Hail the Commander," a voice grunted through a silver visor.
The tattered woman didn't look at her men. Her single, sharp gaze scanned the wreckage of our grand-tourer, tracked the blood on the asphalt, and finally locked onto the massive, silver-furred form of Rayder,and the dark gold of my eyes peering from behind his shoulder.
Her expression shifted instantly. The cold, ruthless glare of a rogue executioner shattered, her eyes widening in absolute, stunned recognition.
"Hold your fire!" she roared, her voice a rough, gravelly command that echoed off the canyon walls. She lunged down the rocky path, her boots skidding in the loose shale as she practically threw herself down the cliffside toward us. "Back off! Every single one of you, lower your weapons right now!"
The mercenaries blinked behind their visors, but they obeyed, the blue hum of the kinetic rifles spinning down into absolute silence. The suffocating tension in the air fractured, leaving only the sound of the wind howling through the gorge.
Rayder didn't lower his guard, a low, warning growl vibrating deep within his massive ribs, but I knew that face. I knew the sharp, aristocratic line of her jaw beneath the soot, a tragic duplicate of the rotted tyrant currently sitting in Level Minus-Four.
Lyric.
Thorne’s only daughter. The girl who had been cast out into the frozen wastes, stripped of her name and her heritage because she refused to reject Kael, choosing the love of an Omega over the blood-soaked purity laws of her father's court.
"Rayder, stand down," I whispered, my voice tight as I stepped out from behind his massive frame, still holding Winter securely against my chest.
Lyric hit the asphalt, her tattered cloak billowing around her like a shadow. She stopped five paces away, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her eyes darting between me, the baby, and the ruined luxury car behind us.
I didn't think about the mercenaries, or the weapons, or the fact that her men had just blown our tires to pieces. I only thought of the shared trauma of the family tree that had broken us both. I stepped forward, my boots clicking against the gravel, and pulled her into a tight, fierce embrace.
Lyric went completely rigid. For a second, she felt like a block of frozen wood in my arms, her hands hovering awkwardly in the air as if she had forgotten how human touch felt. But then, a small, shuddering breath escaped her, and she squeezed back, her rough, dirt-encrusted leather wraps scraping against my black touring jacket.
She pulled away slowly, a dry, mocking chuckle bubbling up from her throat as she stepped back to look at me. Her gaze drifted from the pristine silver buttons on my jacket down to the flawless silk tunic peaking out from underneath, then slowly traveled over to the wrecked grand-tourer, its high-tech digital dashboard still faintly sparking inside the luxury cabin.
"Well, well, well," Lyric said, a sharp, sarcastic smirk twisting her soot-stained lips as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Look at you. Oh, it’s the modern Luna."
I raised an eyebrow, a small, amused smile touching my lips despite the lingering adrenaline. "Lyric."
"Look at this contrast," she continued, gesturing broadly with her scarred hand between her tattered, hide-bound rogues and our glittering, sleek world. She tapped the hood of our car, which was currently smoking from the kinetic blast. "You drive around in a literal glass palace on wheels. You dress like human aristocracy from the high southern districts. You even smell like expensive lavender soap, Selene. Meanwhile, Kael and I have been eating mountain moss and dodging border drones for six months."
Kael stepped up beside her, a quiet, gentle smile breaking through his weathered features as he bowed his head to us. "It is good to see you alive, Luna Selene. Alpha Rayder."
Rayder slowly allowed his Lycan form to recede, his massive frame shrinking back into his dark wool sweater, though his golden eyes remained locked onto the mercenaries lining the cliffs. "Your men have a very aggressive way of saying hello, Lyric. They just cost me a four-thousand-dollar carbon chassis."
"They're rogues, Rayder. They see a machine that expensive crossing the ridge, they assume it’s a high-tier human merchant ripe for the plucking," Lyric said, her sarcastic tone dropping into something much more serious as she looked at the heavy rockfall blocking the path to the West. She looked back at me, her eyes settling on Winter, who was now quietly staring at her tattered cloak with wide, curious eyes.
"What are you doing out here without a vanguard cohort, Selene? The North might be yours, but the fringes are still wild."