The Alpha’s Unseen Mate

The closing Trap

Velan was on his feet in an instant, his relaxed posture vanishing into hardened, lethal readiness. He grabbed his heavy cloak from the rack, securing his broadsword across his back with practiced efficiency.

Aeloria rose right beside him, her internal hesitation instantly pushed aside by the immediate threat. Whatever biological crisis was brewing inside her veins would have to wait. Right now, they were being hunted.

"How many?" Velan demanded as he wrenched the door open, finding Kaelen standing outside in full tactical gear, his breath pluming in the cold hallway.

"At least four tactical squads," Kaelen reported quickly, jogging to keep pace as Velan strode toward the central command elevator. "They've locked down the automated portcullises in the lower transit corridors. We aren't just dealing with mercenaries anymore; someone with high-level clearance codes disabled our perimeter alarms from the inside."

Aeloria's eyes flashed silver in the dim torchlight. "A localized lockdown. They aren't trying to breach the citadel anymore—they're trapping us inside the mountain so the external elements and freezing winds finish the job for them."

Velan paused, turning his head sharply toward her. "They want to starve us out or force a bottleneck."

"Exactly," Aeloria replied, pulling her daggers from their sheaths and checking the balance. "And they're expecting you to rush straight to the main gates to fight your way through. Which means we take the maintenance service lifts and drop right behind their containment line."

Velan stared at her for a fraction of a second, a fierce, proud smile breaking across his stern features. "You never cease to amaze me."