“Put me down.” She pounded against the hard flesh of her captor’s back, her body flopping across his shoulder as he ran.

His grip only tightened, his stride eating up the rock floor. “Now is not the time.”

Another body flew toward her, only to ricochet backwards as it hit the wall of men still between her and the hordes.

A heartbeat after her husband blinked out, a wave of inmates had stampeded forward, spurred on by the offer of a pardon. She’d barely missed being grabbed—until Valdus’s fist sent her latest attacker flying.

He’d tossed her over his shoulder and started running, his men crowding around to act as a barrier.

“Go, go, go!” Ryker’s shout drew her attention, his ax swinging as he waved her captor and the rest of the men down into the narrow corridor, his expression almost gleeful as the surging tide of attackers closed in—and were repelled backward.

She might hate each and every one of Valdus’s team for what they’d done, but she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t impressed by their teamwork.

Her head brushed the ceiling—and then the world tilted once more. She was on her feet, her captor’s arms steadying her. “The droids can’t follow us here, but those men still can.” His scowl deepened, the streaks of blood caking his temple making him look more savage than ever. “If you want to live, you’ll run.”

Tilting her chin, she scowled right back. “I’m no fool. I have no interest in hanging around. And as long as you’re no longer touching me, I’m fine.” The heat was hard enough to hide without being pressed against him—and the last thing she wanted was for him to notice. She gestured for him to lead the way. “By the way, you’re welcome for saving your life as well as those of your men.”

A low growl sounded. A few chuckles from his men, too, if she wasn’t mistaken. And then it was just the pounding of boots as he grabbed the tether between them and they sprinted with the pack, streaking past several twists and turns, outpacing those who were giving chase, the frenzied screams at her back growing fainter and fainter. Her bound hands throbbing in time with her clit.

“Men,” the sudden shout from her captor made her jump, “half take the right branch and head to the mines. Keep separating at every turn. The rest of us will head left and keep dividing as well. The less they know about where she’s gone, the better. We’ll meet back at the usual spot.”

Without another word, they split at the next turn, just as directed.

More did so at the next branch.

The only sound to cut the eerie silence, the fall of boots and the rough intake of her ragged breath.

Which gave her far too much time to think.

Every shadow her husband’s flickering form. The sensation of his hands crawling across her flesh, holding her down, so real that goosebumps rose on her flesh. Old scars throbbed as if recent.

Should she have done whatever she could to appease him? Moved away from the dying men as commanded and dropped to her knees and begged for mercy?

Had she let her foolish feelings for the first man who’d shown her true pleasure destroy her?

“Stay alert.” Her captor’s parting words to the last group of men ripped her from her troubled thoughts.

It dawned on her then that she was alone with him. Again.

Before she could even process the significance, he swiveled in midstride, his hands shifting from the tether to grasp her forearms.

They tumbled through a small opening.

Her back hit rock.

“Now,” his nose was inches from hers, his hard body pinning hers to the wall, “let’s talk more about me not touching you ever again.”