Chapter 235

Chapter 235: Chapter 235

Tempest hadn’t expected Gushex to survive.

It was a horrible thought, one that made her feel guilty every time it crossed her mind, but she couldn’t deny it. She’d seen the amount of blood that had poured from his body after Dron ripped his arm off. She’d heard his screams and watched the color drain from his face as Gerax and Aliq desperately tried to keep him alive. There was no reason for her to believe that he’d survive such a horrific injury. Yet, somehow, the alpha had managed to hold on.

Gerax had worked through the night to save him. He’d used nearly every medical supply they’d brought aboard, and Aliq had been forced to recruit several other passengers to help. They’d even taken blood from compatible donors in an attempt to replace what Gushex had lost. It had been a desperate effort, and from what Tempest understood, there had been several moments when Gerax believed they were going to lose him.

But Gushex was alive.

He’d regained consciousness that morning, and Tempest had been waiting for an opportunity to see him ever since.

She wasn’t sure what she expected to accomplish by visiting. There wasn’t anything she could say that would give him his arm back, and she certainly wasn’t going to stand there and tell him that Dron had been justified in what he’d done. She’d already made her feelings about that perfectly clear.

Still, she needed to see him.

Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was because she knew that if she hadn’t stepped between the two alphas, Gushex would still have both arms. Whatever the reason, Tempest couldn’t shake the feeling that she owed him something.

She found Gerax outside the small room they’d converted into a medical area. The scientist looked absolutely exhausted. His clothing was wrinkled, his hair was a mess, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes.

"How is he?" Tempest asked.

Gerax looked up from the supplies he was sorting.

"Alive."

"That’s good."

"It is considerably better than the alternative."

Tempest gave him a small smile, but Gerax didn’t return it.

"Can I see him?"

Gerax hesitated.

"He’s awake, but I should warn you that his disposition hasn’t improved."

"I wouldn’t expect it to."

"He has been asking questions."

"About Dron?"

"Among other things."

Tempest glanced toward the door.

"Does he know what happened?"

"He remembers enough."

That didn’t sound promising.

Gerax sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Tempest, I understand why you want to see him, but please don’t attempt to convince him that everything is going to be fine. He is going to have a very difficult time adjusting to his injury. I have done what I can, but there are limitations to what I can accomplish aboard a ship."

Tempest nodded.

"I won’t."

Gerax studied her for another moment before stepping aside.

Gushex was lying on a narrow bed near the wall. His massive body seemed strangely out of place in the small room, and Tempest immediately noticed how pale he looked. His skin had lost much of its usual color, and there was a thick bandage wrapped around the shoulder where his arm used to be.

The sight made her stomach tighten.

Gushex turned his head when she entered.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then his eyes moved to her bruised cheek.

"You’re still alive."

Tempest blinked.

"Yeah. I was going to say the same thing about you."

Gushex didn’t smile.

She stepped farther into the room.

"Gerax says you’re doing better."

"Gerax says many things."

"He’s the reason you’re alive."

"I am aware."

Tempest pulled a small stool closer to the bed and sat down. She wasn’t sure whether he wanted company, but he hadn’t told her to leave.

"I’m sorry," she said.

Gushex looked at her.

"For what?"

"For getting in the middle of the fight. If I hadn’t..."

"Stop."

Tempest closed her mouth.

Gushex shifted against the bedding, his expression tightening with pain.

"You did not remove my arm."

"No, but..."

"Your mate did."

Tempest lowered her eyes.

"Yes."

Gushex studied her for a moment before his gaze shifted to the bruise on her cheek.

"I am sorry for striking you, Tempest."

She looked up at him, surprised.

"It was an accident."

"That doesn’t change the fact that I hurt you. I saw you coming toward us, but I couldn’t stop my fist in time. I never intended for you to get caught in the middle."

"I know you didn’t. I’m not angry with you."

Gushex nodded slightly, although the bitterness in his expression remained.

"Has he come to see me?"

Tempest shook her head.

"No."

"Good."

There was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice.

She looked up.

"I don’t want him here," Gushex continued. "If he walks through that door, I cannot promise what I will do."

Tempest glanced at the bandage around his shoulder.

"I don’t think fighting him again would be a good idea."

Gushex gave a humorless laugh.

"I am not foolish enough to believe I could defeat him in this condition."

"Then what would you do?"

"I would tell him exactly what I think of him."

Tempest nodded.

"That seems fair."

Gushex turned his head toward the ceiling.

"I followed him because I believed he was different."

The words were quiet enough that Tempest almost missed them.

"I watched him stand against the High Royals. I watched him defend people who had nothing to offer him. I believed that someone who had suffered as much as he had would understand what it meant to have your life controlled by someone stronger."

"He does understand."

"Does he?"

Tempest didn’t answer.

Gushex looked back at her.

"I challenged him, Tempest. I disagreed with him. I did not threaten his life. I did not threaten yours. I told him that perhaps we had already found what we were fighting for, and he attacked me."

"You called him something you knew would upset him."

"I called him cursed."

Tempest stiffened.

Gushex noticed.

"I knew it would anger him. I wanted him to listen to me, and he was refusing to hear anything that went against his decision. Perhaps I went too far, but I did not deserve this."

He glanced toward his missing arm.

Tempest felt her throat tighten.

"No. You didn’t."

For the first time since she’d entered, some of the hardness left his expression.

"I don’t regret challenging him," Gushex said.

"I didn’t think you would."

"And I still believe we are making a mistake."

Tempest leaned forward slightly.

"Going to Thraqe?"

"Yes."

"Gushex, the High Royals aren’t going to leave us alone."

"You don’t know that."

"Neither do you."

He looked away.

Tempest sighed. "I understand why you want to stop fighting. I really do. But if we turn around now, we’re leaving everyone else to suffer under the same people who made our lives miserable."

"And how many more must suffer before you decide enough is enough?"

The question caught her off guard.

Gushex continued before she could answer.

"We have lost people to illness. We have lost supplies. Our fighters are weakened, and now our own leader has nearly killed one of the males who followed him. At what point do we admit that this mission is becoming something different from what we agreed to?"

Tempest stared at him.

She didn’t have a good answer.

Gushex looked toward the doorway.

"There are others who feel the same way."

"I know."

"No. I don’t think you do."

Something about his tone made Tempest straighten.

"What does that mean?"

"Several alphas have come to see me. Some from my people. Others who joined us in Skoq. They want to leave."

Tempest felt her stomach drop.

"Leave how?"

"They want one of the ships."

She sat back.

"Gushex..."

"They believe we should return to the wilderness and build something of our own. They have asked me to go with them."

"You’re in no condition to travel."

"I’m already traveling."

"You know what I mean."

Gushex looked at her without responding.

Tempest rubbed her forehead.

"Have they spoken to Dron?"

"Would you?"

That silenced her.

Gushex’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"You’ve seen what happens when someone challenges him. Do you believe these males will willingly approach him and announce that they intend to abandon his mission?"

"Dron told everyone they were free to leave."

"He also told them that anyone who challenged him had better understand what they were asking for."

Tempest remembered the speech.

She remembered how powerful Dron had looked standing before the crowd. She’d been proud of him for taking control, but she’d also been uncomfortable with how little room he’d left for disagreement.

Gushex watched her carefully.

"You know I’m right."

"I know people are frightened."

"And they should be."

Tempest looked toward his bandaged shoulder.

"I don’t want anyone else getting hurt."

"Then speak to him."

"I have."

"Speak to him again."

Tempest shook her head.

"You don’t understand. Dron believes that if we turn around, the High Royals will eventually find us. He thinks this is our only chance to stop them."

"And perhaps he’s right. But if he cannot convince people to follow him without threatening them, then he has already lost."

The words settled heavily between them.

Tempest stayed with Gushex for a while longer, although neither had much else to say. She asked whether he needed anything, and he told her that he needed his arm back. She couldn’t blame him for the bitterness.

When she finally stood to leave, Gushex called her name.

"Tempest."

She turned.

"Yes?"

"I don’t hate you."

Her chest tightened.

"I know."

"I don’t even hate Dron."

That surprised her.

Gushex stared at the ceiling.

"But I no longer trust him."

Tempest didn’t know what to say.

Gushex looked at her one last time.

"If you don’t stop him, someone else will."

She left the room with those words echoing through her mind.

Outside, Gerax was still sorting supplies. He glanced at her expression and sighed.

"I assume the conversation went poorly."

"It could have been worse."

"That is not particularly reassuring."

Tempest leaned against the wall.

"Did you know some of the alphas want to take a ship and leave?"

Gerax stopped what he was doing.

"No."

"Apparently, they’ve been talking to Gushex."

Gerax looked toward the closed door.

"That male needs to concentrate on healing."

"I don’t think he’s capable of concentrating on anything else right now."

"Then perhaps someone should remind him that he nearly died."

Tempest gave a tired laugh.

"I think he’s pretty aware of that."

Gerax returned to his supplies, but Tempest could see the concern in his expression.

She wasn’t the only one who understood how dangerous the situation was becoming.

The fleet was already divided. Dron had managed to quiet the crowd, but he hadn’t changed everyone’s mind. Now some of the alphas were considering leaving, and Gushex was encouraging them.

She couldn’t even say they were wrong.

That was the worst part.

Tempest made her way back toward the upper deck, hoping that some fresh air would help clear her head. She’d barely reached the stairs when she heard someone shouting above her.

At first, she thought another argument had started.

Then she heard Kraznek’s voice.

"Get Dron! Now!"

Tempest hurried up the stairs.

Several soldiers were gathered near the front of the ship, staring toward the distant horizon. Others were climbing the rigging, trying to get a better view of something far out across the water.

Tempest followed their gaze.

At first, she couldn’t see anything.

Then she noticed a dark shape moving against the distant line where the ocean met the sky.

A ship.

It was too far away to make out any details, but there was something strange about its shape. Its sails were darker than the ones on their vessels, and its hull seemed lower and wider.

"Is that one of ours?" Tempest asked.

Kraznek shook his head.

"No."

"Then whose is it?"

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he looked toward the distant vessel with an expression that made Tempest’s stomach tighten.

"Kraznek?"

The alpha swallowed.

"I don’t know."

Tempest looked back toward the horizon.

The strange ship was moving in the same direction they were.

And it was getting closer.