The Soul Eaters (The Thin Hex Line Book 1) by Gwyndolyn Russell (e reader txt) 📕

beer. “He didn’t do it to save those slaves. He killed those poor sods, too.”

“To send a message?”

“To who?”

“That mine was owned by Apex Corps, right?”

“Judging by all the banners and patches. That’s a positive. Why Apex though? I know they got enemies. They’re a hard company to like.”

Reaper sat back. Scratched his cheek and hummed in thought. He sipped his drink, blue eyes wandering down to the tablet he had sitting next to him. The last thing pulled up on the screen was a news article. The headline read “200 Civilians Dead on Markias: Black Wolves Suspected.” Of course the Black Wolves were suspected. They blamed every terror attack in the last few years on them. They were a bigger threat than any eldiravan activist group, and they hated the Order. Boy, did they want that organization to burn.

Reaper put two fingers to the tablet and slid it across the desk. Jackal picked it up. Reaper did not even have to say anything. Jackal already knew what he wanted to say.

“No.” Jackal drew the word out. Shaking his head, he tossed the tablet down, but the magnet did not hold. It spun slowly, floating across the room. “We don’t know if they have anything to do with that guy. He wasn’t marked.” He spoke slowly, enunciated each syllable as clearly as he could. He was trying to make a point to Reaper. Get the thought out of his head before it took root.

“We could only see that guy’s mouth. We don’t know if he has the mark, or not.” Reaper leaned across the desk, a finger pressed into the surface. “He moved smoothly. Quick. He was rehearsed. Only Alpha Hunters are trained like that.”

Jackal shrugged, holding a small ice pack to his nose. “Okay. So, say he is an alpha. So what? It’s not like they don’t go rogue.” He crossed his arms over his chest, still holding his beer bottle. He hovered over the seat, pressing a heel into the desk to stay in place. “That still doesn’t explain why we weren’t targeted.”

“We weren’t his targets because we aren’t part of Apex. We’re part of the Federation. Why would the Black Wolves attack us if we aren’t even associated with them?”

“We’re witnesses, Arty! You damn well know they don’t leave survivors. The aftermath is the only thing the media catches.”

“Well, maybe she does---”

“No!” Jackal sat straight up. “Damn it, Art!” He hit his palm to the desk, let the bottle float away, held the edge of the desk. “You fuckin’ promised! You fuckin’ promised!” He repeated the sentence until Reaper sat back in his chair. “I miss her, too. I really do.” He put his hand to his chest. “She ain’t comin’ back, Cap’. You gotta let her go.”

“I’m going to call her.” Reaper said abruptly.

“No!’ Jackal tried to restrain the Captain’s hand from hitting the comm button, but it was too late. “She isn’t going to answer. There’s no way she still has that link. If she’s still out there, you’d only put her in danger. It’s not encrypted!”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know any of it.” He hit a few of the holo-buttons.

Jackal sighed. Snatched up his beer before it got too far. Finished with it. A boot to the desk pushed him backwards, away from Reaper. “I’m not sittin’ here to watch you kill yourself. You haven’t been able to contact her in three years. All you’re going to do is reopen old wounds.”

Reaper said nothing. He did not even make eye contact. Deep inside he knew Jackal was right, but he was not the type to give up. She was out there still, he could feel it.

Jackal left. He meant what he said. He missed her too, and he understood why Reaper was so desperate to contact her. That poor man was still in love with her. He needed to let her go. She was never coming back. She had her own mission and refused to let them help her. So, she disappeared into the vast expanse of space. Jackal recalled the last time they saw her. They stopped for shore leave at Solstice and went for drinks. They saw her sitting at the bar alone. She was gone by the end of the night and they never saw her again. Reaper went back to that bar every night for three months. Eventually they had to leave Solstice.

Jackal tossed the empty beer bottle into the nearest trash can. He pulled himself along the wall, going nowhere fast.

“Smells like alcohol and salt.” Came a voice from behind him. Thick and scratchy. “Strange combination for drinking. Unless…”

Jackal turned around to see Mjolnir towering over him. The cat sniffed at the air, nostrils flaring. He ran his claws through his beard, gently brushing over the braids. He floated haplessly, allowing himself to invert.

“Y’know that never gets less creepy.” Jackal said.

“I can’t help that we ardrizi have better olfactories than humans!” He grinned, showing off yellow stained flesh tearing teeth. “I cannot imagine you’ve been licking a salt block and drinking beer. Why are you... what’s the word for it? Sad?”

There was no hiding from that. Jackal trusted him enough. He was one of the best soldiers on the ship.

“It’s the captain.” He said. They glided down the hall together, passing by a few others headed the other way. “He’s still beating himself up about the breakup.”

“Ah.” Mjolnir nodded. “The one that got away. It is hard to accept the loss, especially when one fights so hard just to lose.”

“It was three years ago.” Jackal sighed.

“She must have been one hell of a warrior.”

“She was.” Jackal huffed. “Saved our asses more times than I could count.”

“Perhaps instead of beer, you can drown out the sorrows with your fists. Come Lieutenant, I could use a good brawl!”

That was Mjolnir. Big, fluffy, lovable. He looked intimidating as a tusked, eleven foot tall tiger could. Yet when his loyalty was earned, he was the type of man who would give