Chapter Fourteen
I have never been prisoner in the cells of my own ship before. They are not comfortable. My men are similarly imprisoned, apart from the ones necessary to run certain functions of the ship. They are obeying my order to cooperate reluctantly. I’ve taken them all into a trap, and I do not want to see any of them die. I’ll do what I have to in order to survive, and so will they.
The Drixi woman stalks toward me. There is danger in her eyes as she approaches the bars and stares in at me.
“So,” she says. “You are Seale Karlo. You are the one who hurt my little bird.”
I say nothing. What is there to say. My silence appears to irritate her.
“You say nothing to defend yourself?”
“I don’t need to defend myself,” I say calmly. “This is not your business.”
“It is certainly my business,” Marchone insists, her voice tipping into an acidic tone. “She never recovered from you, you know. And the moment you had her in your power, you took her again, ravaged her. You are an animal, Karlo, and I will treat you as one. You will be a beast of burden for me. I will enjoy using you like the depraved creature you are.”
She’s angry. Interesting. This seems to be a personal mission for her. She has clearly become very attached to my Era. I can’t blame her for that. Era is lovely, though I am not buying that Marchone wants to protect her. If that were the case, she would not have hung her out as bait.
“She cried for weeks,” the Drixi woman says. “And every tear she shed made me declare vengeance on you.”
“Why?”
“Why?” She lets out a shocked laugh. “Do you not understand empathy at all? You Rathkari men are monsters. You will suffer, Seale Karlo.”
If she wants me to worry, she’s going to have to do a lot more than stand outside the cell and make threats at me, but we both know she will not step inside. She will use others, exact her revenge by proxy.
“It will be slow.”
* * *
Hiding around the corner, I hear the exchange between Marchone and Karlo. He barely says a word to her, but his responses anger her deeply. I can hear the tremor of rage in her voice. I want to warn him not to test her. Marchone is capable of cruelty beyond cruelty. She takes pleasure in hurting her captives.
He does not respond to her threats and in the end she stalks away. I know what happens next. I’ve seen it before and it has sickened me every time. She’s gone to get the psychopaths who torture for her pleasure. It’s whispered in our ship that the only way she can climax is if she sees blood.
The second she leaves, I scurry around the corner to his cell. He is standing there, arms folded over his chest an unimpressed expression on his handsome features. How is it possible for him to remain commanding and dominating even as a prisoner?
I smirk through the bars at him. “Not so much fun now, is it, Karlo?”
“Not for either of us,” he says, his golden eyes on me. “I’m no good to you in here, and you’re nothing but a puppet out there.”
“You’ve never been any good to me anywhere.”
He shrugs. “So this is how it ends? You watch me die?”
He seems detached from the idea, like it doesn’t bother him at all. The Rathkari are known for their bravery, and Karlo is a prime example of it. I don’t think he will give Marchone what she wants. He will not beg, he will not cry, he will likely not scream in pain, and that will only drive her to ever greater acts of cruelty.
I can’t watch what she has in store for him. I just can’t.
* * *
I would not blame Era if she had come to gloat over my capture, but that doesn’t seem to be her plan. It is impossible to tell what her agenda is now. Three years is a long time, and evidently she has ingratiated herself into the highest levels of the rebellion. This has obviously been a well laid out plan designed to catch quite a trophy—no Rathkari war general has ever been taken by the rebellion. I am sure they will find a range of fascinating pains and humiliations for me.
“You have to get out of here,” she says, fiddling with the lock. “They’re going to kill you. Marchone is vicious…”
“You care?”
“I care, Karlo,” she curses. “Of course I fucking care. I didn’t have a choice.”
“You had a choice,” I growl. “You had a choice not to run from me. You had a choice not to betray me. You had a thousand choices.”
“I didn’t,” she snarls back at me. “And you don’t understand, so just shut up.”
I do not care for her snapping at me, but this is hardly the time for a correction. She has the keys to my cage, and she is about to let me go. Her hands are shaking with adrenaline, and every second she fumbles feels like a year. I fall silent, giving her room to work and soon she swings the door open. I am free.
I take her by the collar and march her down to the next cell. The rebels have not posted guards down here, they are too busy looting the weapons and supplies above. Era makes squeaks of complaint as I have her free each and every one of my men, but she does as she is told. This little traitor who I love… I do not know what I am going to do with her, but I know what has to be done in this moment.
I keep hold of her as I address my men in soft tones. We are still outgunned and outmanned, but now we have the element of surprise on our side. We will not be trying to take back this ship. This ship is forfeit. What we will be doing is disabling its navigation, and taking the escape vessels, fleeing into space in a hundred different directions, calling for the fleet.
Having given my orders for evacuation, I take Era with me as we move through the ship. The rebels made an excellent plan of capture, but they have failed on the follow through. If I were to take a Rathkari ship, every floor would be overrun, but Marchone’s crew want first pickings of the loot, so they are sparse, and nowhere near our emergency shuttles.
There are some instances of contact along the way, but my men deal with the rebels they encounter quickly and most important, quietly. We reach the shuttle bay as planned and they begin to take their shuttles. I am immensely proud of them; they have followed my orders perfectly, from allowing themselves to be taken, to conducting their escape. They will all be rewarded richly if we survive.
Era is by my side, my fist still clenched in her collar. She is compliant, which I do not trust, but we are past trust now. Trust is a luxury. We are in the realm of essential action.
“Karlo.” She puts her hand on my arm just as we prepare to take the last of the shuttles along with fifteen of my men. “We have to go back to Marchone’s ship.”
She’s talking about taking a shuttle across open space. We could take the one we’re on and be out of here before Marchone and the rebels are aware of what is happening.
“Absolutely not.”
“Karlo. We have to,” she says, her tone high-pitched, nearly panicked. She tugs at my arm, making no impression on me at all.
“Why?”
“Because there’s someone we have to save.”
“We can’t take anyone else.”
“I’m not leaving without him. If you won’t take me back there, then leave me here.”
She speaks with total determination, which puzzles me. If I leave her, Marchone will surely know that she was the one who effected our escape. And if the woman is as cruel as she seems to be, that will not go well for Era.
I could simply drag Era onto the shuttle, ignore her wishes. That is my strong preference. She’s mine. I’m not helping her rescue another man. There’s something in her eyes though, something that sways me.
“Him?”
My jealousy flares. She has taken another lover in my absence, and now she dares to use me to rescue him? I want to refuse, but I want to see this man too. I want to see who she loves so much she’s willing to put her life and freedom on the line.
“Fine,” I grind out. “We will go to Marchone’s ship. The rest will take their shot at escape first.”
I take control of the shuttle, Era beside me, my men lined up behind. A few of them have managed to find side arms. They may come in useful.
My men fire across space, a swarm of shuttles. We have two hundred of them in total. The moment they blast out of the belly of the ship, the surrounding rebel ships give chase. Lights spear across space, the thrusters of several hundred ships dancing in chase and evasion. There is a vicious beauty to it. My men are drawing most of the danger away, and Marchone’s ship hangs in space, presumably largely empty.
“He better be worth this,” I snarl as I take hold of the controls.
“He is,” she says softly, and a look of such tender lovingness comes over her features. I feel as though I have been punched hard in the gut. Whoever he is, she loves him. Dark thoughts enter my mind. Plans for revenge. I will not share her.
We travel across open space, in great danger and in silence. She is utterly fixated on that ship. We cruise right up to it and discover the shuttle dock open. They were so cocky and sure of their triumph that they have left nothing in the way of defense whatsoever.
“There’s still some people aboard, I think,” Era whispers. “I don’t want trouble here.”
I order my men to stay with the shuttle and follow her lead. If this gets us captured again, at least they will have some means of escape. Curiosity and jealousy are driving me as she moves toward an access hatch. Most all ships have them, maintenance tubes that run between floors. She removes the hatch, climbs up, and gestures for me to climb in behind her. It’s a tight fit. My shoulders are too broad and I am not the most nimble of creatures. I was made to rage in battle, not hide myself away in little tubes.
“This way,” she insists. She has developed so much more confidence over the years. She speaks with an air of certainty that borders on authority. Interesting. I wonder what else has changed for her, and what role this man has played in it. She moves quickly through the tubes, but quietly. I have to move much more slowly, earning her impatience. The view is quite pleasant, her shapely rear displayed to excellent effect in the tight rubber pants. Mine become tighter too as I remember how it was to claim her again.
I want her. I want her so badly it is a physical craving. It makes me sick to think that we are working toward freeing some other man of hers.
She stops and my face meets her cheeks rather abruptly.
“I know I’ve told you to kiss my ass before, Karlo,” she whispers over her shoulder. “But now’s really not the time.”
She is loosening another vent. I restrain the urge to swat her cheeks and a second later she’s dropping down and I have no choice but to follow. I find myself in a very small quarters. Before I can really take the room in, she reaches up and clamps her hand over my mouth.
Scowling down at her, I raise two questioning brows. She stands up on her tiptoes, obviously trying to get closer. I dip down a little to allow her closer.
“The reason we’re here,” she whispers, breathing heavily, her small hand still clamped over my mouth, “is him. Be quiet, Karlo. He’s sleeping.”
So this man we have risked our lives to rescue must not be disturbed from sleep? I am utterly confused as she turns from me, pulls back the blanket on the bed and I see a small boy lying there, swaddled in space-themed pajamas. He is curled up on himself, pillows arranged around him as if he has been snuggled in a soft little nest while all around him battle raged.
“Wake up, Kes,” she says softly, rocking his shoulder gently. He stirs and I stare as he wakes up. His eyes meet mine. They are pure gold. My gaze runs over his features. I have seen similar before, a strong chin and jaw, high cheekbones, even in his young rounded face. I am looking into a little mirror of myself.
For a moment, I cannot speak. I know what… who I must be looking at, but his existence seems to be impossible. And yet he is there, blinking and staring at me with a quiet curiosity that belies his age. He can’t be much more than two years old, and yet he seems to know this is a time to be quiet. My boy has good instincts. My boy.
“Is he…”
“Yes, Karlo. He’s yours,” she says, gathering the child into her arms. He rests his head on her shoulder and looks at me with those great eyes, so large in his small face.
“I thought…”
“So did I,” she says. “Turns out, I was wrong. She knew, though. Marchone. She knew when she met me, before I did, even. And that’s… I was alone, Karlo, I was scared and she had me right where she wanted me. She told me we’d do good things together. That he’d have a life worth living. But she doesn’t care. Not about me, and definitely not about him. He and I, we’ve been prisoners for…” Tears fill her eyes. “We have him. And now we have to go.”
She’s right. We have to get the hell out of here. She hands him to me as she jumps back up to the hatch. I feel the weight of the boy in my arms. My son. We look at each other, he and I and I worry for a second that he might start to cry at being held by a large stranger. Instead, he smiles and points toward my eyes. He’s not said a word, but we’ve recognized each other the same way. I put my finger to my lips, indicating he should be quiet. He nods sleepily, but quickly and I feel my heart swell with pride. He is smart.
“Here,” she whispers, holding her arms out from above. “Let’s go.”
I hand him over, a part of my heart I never knew I was missing until this very moment.
We scramble back to the ship and board it hurriedly. Kes stays quiet as we power up and make to leave. Is this it? Have we escaped? I use Marchone’s ship as a screen between us and my captured vessel, making it harder to spot as we jet away. We don’t have the same advantage the first flurry of ships had. There are not hundreds of us to chase, there is but one, and as we accelerate away, I see a set of lights that can only be one thing: the rebel ships returning.
Outnumbered, outgunned, I do not care. I will not be captured again. I push the shuttle to full power and scream toward them as they open fire. There is no way out but through. Next to me, Era and Kes are securely belted in, the boy with my eyes and my blood sucking his thumb as the ship slides back and forth. It’s about to get rough, but there is nothing I can do about that.
A bolt passes dangerously close. I throw the ship onto its side, everything becoming horizontal for a second before we spin around level to our previous trajectory. The wash of the engines of the passing rebel ships makes the shuttle judder furiously.
Kes lets out a cry, not of fear, but of pure excitement. I grin as I hear it. I know that sound. That is the sound of a Rathkari boy who welcomes danger. The crew takes up his cry and we cheer our way through the volley of fire and destruction.