Marriage Contract with my Cursed Alien Mate

Chapter 121: Chapter 121

The farther he traveled from home, the more barren the world became. The towering buildings of the royal and academic classes were replaced by smaller settlements, then scattered homes, and finally nothing but stretches of black dirt and jagged stone. Dron had traveled to the outer edge of Thraqe before, but it had been many cycles since his duties brought him this far. There was a strange emptiness to the land. No merchants. No farmers. No children playing near the roads. Only military structures and the occasional watchtower standing against the horizon.

Dron kept his hand wrapped around the small piece of fabric Tempest had tucked into his bag before he left. It was part of one of her old garments. She said it smelled like her, though his senses had already picked up her scent long before she mentioned it.

He pressed it against his palm.

The transport began to descend.

Dron forced himself to put the fabric away before the doors opened. He was no longer simply Tempest’s mate. Not here. He was the Silver Mark Chief assigned to lead a squad into dangerous territory. The men waiting for him didn’t need to see grief. They needed to see strength.

The transport landed in the center of a small military outpost built close to the edge of the civilized lands. A high wall surrounded the compound, though parts of it were cracked and weathered from years of neglect. Beyond the wall, Dron could see the distant mountains that separated Thraqe from the water that cut between the forbidden territories.

The air was somehow warmer here.

Dron grabbed his bag and stepped outside.

Six men waited near a row of equipment crates.

None of them saluted.

Dron stopped several feet away and looked them over.

The first was a large alpha with pale gray skin and two broken horns jutting from his forehead. His uniform had been modified to show off the heavy muscles in his arms, and the markings on his chest told Dron he had once been part of a front-line assault unit. Beside him stood a shorter male with narrow yellow eyes and long claws that curved over the tips of his fingers. A tracker, most likely.

The remaining men were a mixture of alphas. One wore the uniform of a city guard. Another had tools attached to nearly every part of his clothing. A demolition specialist. The youngest of them appeared barely old enough to have completed training.

Dron didn’t recognize any of them.

That wasn’t an accident.

The high royals had deliberately placed him with men who held no loyalty to him.

The large alpha with the broken horns looked Dron up and down before scoffing.

"You’re the cursed one?"

Dron placed his bag beside the equipment crates.

"My name is Dron."

"I know your name." The alpha stepped forward. "I’ve heard plenty about you."

Dron said nothing.

The others watched with varying levels of amusement.

Another male crossed his arms. "They said we were getting an experienced leader. Didn’t say they were sending someone who couldn’t keep his own allies from burning."

Dron’s jaw tightened, but he ignored the insult. He began checking the equipment instead. Most of the weapons were outdated but functional. There were survival packs, emergency rations, and several portable shelters.

The alpha with the broken horns followed him.

"Are you deaf?"

"No."

"Then you should answer when a superior alpha speaks."

Dron slowly turned.

"You are not my superior."

The alpha laughed.

The others joined him.

Dron recognized the behavior. He had seen it in nearly every new squad he’d ever joined. Men testing one another, trying to establish dominance before a mission began. Normally, Dron preferred to let his actions prove his position.

He didn’t have time for that now.

The alpha stepped closer and deliberately slammed his shoulder into Dron’s.

Dron barely moved.

"Do that again," Dron said quietly.

The alpha grinned.

He struck Dron’s shoulder a second time.

Dron grabbed hold of the man’s arm, twisted it behind his back, and drove him face-first into the dirt before anyone had a chance to react. His knee pressed against the alpha’s spine while one hand gripped the broken base of his horn. With his free hand, Dron pulled a blade from the man’s own belt and pressed it against the side of his throat.

The entire exchange took only a few seconds.

Silence spread through the outpost.

Dron leaned closer to the alpha’s ear.

"You have been assigned to my squad. That means when I speak, you listen. When I give an order, you follow it. If you question me in the middle of danger, I will leave your body where it falls and continue the mission without you."

The alpha growled but didn’t attempt to move.

Dron pushed the blade slightly closer.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"I didn’t hear you."

"Yes, Silver Mark Chief."

Dron released him and stood.

The alpha slowly pushed himself from the dirt, anger burning in his eyes. He didn’t attack again.

Dron looked toward the rest of the squad.

"Does anyone else need clarification?"

No one answered.

"Good."

He returned the blade to the alpha and began examining the supplies again. Dron could feel the men watching him differently now. There was still resentment there, but there was also caution.

Respect would come later.

For the time being, caution was enough.

"You." Dron pointed toward the closest alpha. "Name and experience."

The yellow-eyed male straightened.

"Krex. Twenty cycles tracking through the western forest."

"Have you traveled beyond the civilized border?"

"Twice."

"Good. You’ll walk at the front with me."

Dron moved to the demolition specialist.

"Name."

"Vexun. Fortification and controlled blasting."

Dron nodded and continued down the line. The city guard was named Zaq. The youngest soldier was Teren. The remaining two were survivalists who had spent most of their lives hunting in the outer lands.

It wasn’t the squad Dron would have chosen, but it was better than he expected.

The sound of an approaching transport drew everyone’s attention.

A large military vessel descended beyond the outpost wall. The men immediately straightened, and even the horned alpha brushed the dirt from his uniform.

The hatch opened.

Dron’s current Mark Chief stepped out.

Tuliq.

Of all the people Dron expected to oversee the mission, Tuliq was the last. The man had never shown Dron anything but distrust. He was a strict military leader who believed obedience mattered more than everything else.

Tuliq walked into the center of the outpost and looked over the squad.

His gaze landed on the dirt coating the horned alpha’s face before shifting to Dron.

"I see introductions have been made."

Dron clasped his hands behind his back.

"Yes, Mark Chief."

Tuliq gestured toward a low building near the wall.

"Inside. All of you."

The squad followed him into the briefing room. A large holographic map floated above a table. Dron recognized the outline of Thraqe immediately. The map stretched farther than most civilian versions, showing the territories beyond the accepted borders.

Tuliq waited until everyone gathered around the table.

"Officially, this mission is an investigation into the destruction of the poor class."

Dron’s eyes narrowed.

Officially.

That meant there was another purpose.

"Your squad will collect information on the fires, identify possible organizers, and report any connections to the uprising." Tuliq moved his hand across the hologram. A red line appeared at the edge of Thraqe and continued into the mountains. "However, intelligence indicates the men responsible did not remain inside our territory."

The red line continued beyond the border.

Several of the men shifted uncomfortably.

"Where did they go?" Krex asked.

Tuliq looked toward Dron.

"The forbidden lands."

Dron stared at the map.

There were several forbidden regions surrounding Thraqe, each one dangerous for different reasons. Uspanx held creatures capable of tearing through armor.

The red line moved farther across the map.

Then it stopped.

Dron felt every muscle in his body tense.

Tuliq enlarged the section.

"We have evidence that several members of the uprising crossed the great sea into Skoq following the attack. We also have reports of organized movement beyond the barrier."

"What kind of movement?" Dron questioned.

"Settlements."

The room fell silent.

Dron thought of the rumors he had shared with Gerax. Humans living in the Forbidden Lands. Communities hidden from the High Council.

"Are the settlements Thraqen?" Dron asked.

"We don’t know."

The answer came too quickly.

Tuliq knew more than he was telling them.

Dron studied the hologram. Skoq was a place most soldiers refused to discuss. Entire patrols had disappeared there. Those who returned spoke of forests so dense the light couldn’t reach the ground and creatures capable of mimicking voices to lure travelers away from their camps.

"How far are we expected to go?" the horned alpha asked.

Tuliq expanded the red line until it reached deep into the center of the territory.

Several men cursed.

"You will follow the suspected route of the attackers. You will locate the settlement, determine who lives there, and discover what connection they have to the poor class."

Dron looked toward Tuliq.

"And if we find the people responsible?"

"You bring them back."

"Alive?"

"If possible."

Dron understood the hidden meaning.

If the people they found knew too much, there was a chance the high royals didn’t want them returning at all.

Tuliq placed both hands on the table.

"You leave within the hour. Once you cross the barrier, communication with Thraqe will be unreliable. You may go several days without contact."

Dron’s thoughts immediately went to Tempest.

Several days without hearing her voice.

Without knowing if she was safe.

He tightened his fists under the table.

He had promised her he would return.

He intended to keep that promise.

"Prepare yourselves," Tuliq ordered. "Your destination is the forbidden land of Skoq."

The squad began moving toward the door, but Dron remained beside the map for several seconds.

Skoq.

Somewhere beyond those mountains could be the answers they had been looking for. The truth about the uprising. The people responsible for destroying the poor class. Perhaps even the humans Tempest had been told were living somewhere in the Forbidden Lands.

Dron stared toward the red line leading deeper into the unknown.

He had been sent there as punishment.

The royals believed distance and danger would remove him from their way.

They were wrong.

If the truth was waiting in Skoq, Dron would find it.

Then he would make his way back to Tempest.

No matter what stood between them.