Predator Code (Tales from Wildhearth #1)

Chapter 18 - Your Word Against Everything and Everyone

Jett started to struggle. A growling whine rose in her throat as her limbs thrashed violently, one paw slamming hard into her assailant's chest, a kick connecting hard with the big stranger's chin.

"Gah! Peace and bloody Fire, Jett, it's me!"

She froze.

"Bronco?!"

"Yes, damn it!"

Her heart almost leapt out of her chest with relief, and the tension flowed out of her body. Feeling her relax, Bronco's firm grip on her shoulders snapped free, and he stepped back, leaning on the wall of the building and tapping a claw against his lips. Jett nodded. He beckoned her to follow, slinking along in this dark gully between two shops. She squared her shoulders and tucked herself in behind him.

They emerged from the tiny alleyway out into a small market square. He popped out from between the building like a cork squeezed from a bottle, his bulky frame barely able to fit in the narrow defile. Jett slipped out after him and looked around, finding a bulging square of awnings, tables, and open-topped grill fires. Kin wandered back and forth, selling food from carts and stalls. It was loud and hot—a good place to hide.

Bronco looked like he belonged here, clad in a pair of symmetrical evergreen arm wraps and his longkilt, the fur of his brawny chest bared in the heat of the place. He looked around for a moment, making sure no other watchguards were patrolling the area, then motioned with his head towards an empty table tucked away in the corner of the square.

Wordlessly, Jett followed.

"Take a seat," he told her.

She did as he asked, slinging the pack down between her legs and sinking gratefully into one of the chairs. He took up the seat opposite her, and they sat for a moment while the world ebbed and flowed around them. Eventually, Bronco shook his head, a smile of both admonishment and admiration splitting his muzzle.

"You're not short on spine, Jett," he chuckled. "I'll give you that much. Coming this close to Palharr? I mean, this better be good."

"I don't know if it's good," she replied, allowing herself a sly smile. "But it's important."

"No kidding."

"Thanks, by the way, for getting me out of there."

"Thank me when we're done here," he replied. "I told you, watchguards are out looking for you right now, Jett. You need to be careful."

"You think I'm not being careful?" she exclaimed. "Careful is the only reason I'm still breathing, Bronco!"

"Alright, alright, alright." He raised his paws in placation. When he spoke again, however, the levity had faded from his voice, and he looked her in the eye. "I'm here, Jett, but I can't stay long. Whatever you've got to say to me, do it quickly."

She tapped her claws against the table, weighing up all the pros and cons of what she was about to do, before gathering her nerve and reaching into one pocket. From it, she withdrew a block drive. A drive loaded with every scrap of information she'd been able to dredge up on Zanzihar, Fisker, and the mysterious Belforra district. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she slid it across the table to him.

He scooped it up without really looking at it, his eyes still fixed on hers. "What's on it?"

"Everything I could find," she said. "I've been...busy, and I don't like what I've found. Have you ever heard of a district called Belforra?"

Bronco shook his head. "Should I have?"

"Not unless you're an enforcer. They've been scrubbing records of this place out of official transcripts for years, but whatever it is, it's important to all of this." Jett pointed at the drive with a claw. "On that drive is a list of relocation orders from the past three years from places across the city. All of them were signed off by designates put into positions of authority by the wolfkin, and all the orders they have authorised correspond with majority populations of the same kin."