Chapter 103

Chapter One Hundred Three

The buzzing was so loud that Connor had to activate his helmet’s noise cancelling system. That didn’t stop the sensation of the beating wings—the vibration that tickled his skin.

One of the scorpions dove out of the bright afternoon sky straight at Vicente, twisting to bring its stinger in sideways.

Connor hurried forward, lowered his shoulder on the threatened side to protect against the strike, and when the monstrosity came close enough to strike, slashed its tail off with the sword in his other hand.

Ichor spurted onto his helmet, filming his visor. The rotten stench of it—a thousand tombs in concentrate—made him gag.

That corruption was on his tongue, in his spit and sinuses.

Vicente snarled at the retreating bug before nodding at Connor. “Thanks, Boss.”

“We’re making it out of here alive.”

It could have been meant in defiance or confidence. Connor wasn’t sure which.