“I can’t hold on much longer!” White-knuckled fingernails dug into the dirt at the edge of a crack in the ground.

His hand clamped to Ava, Valdus scanned the corridor one more time before signaling Darvish and Bain to haul the man up. Gashes in the ground like the one Ava’s crewmate had fallen into were plentiful down here and easy to miss. Still, none of this felt right.

“Oh, Goddess. Thank you. Thank you.” Sobbing, the rescued man clung to Darvish’s thick arm as his body, and then his bare, cracked feet, dragged over the precipice.

But it was the sob behind him that cut straight to Valdus’s soul.

Ava’s soldier friend looked like hell. His uniform in tatters, it was easy to track the bruises atop bruises that purpled his skin. There were rope lines around his neck, thin cuts likely made from a pickax across his back, and he weighed at least half what he’d been in the transport hold. Saddest of all, his eyes were dull and lifeless.

Draeke had tortured the poor bastard.

And he had let it happen.

Still, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

He’d choose Ava every time.

The question was would she choose him?

“What are you doing here, Pratt?” He forced all emotion from his tone.

The man looked up, sheer terror in his gaze. “Please don’t send me back. Please.” His gaze darted from one side to the other. “Please.”

“It’s okay, Pratt. No one is sending you back.” Tugging at his hold, Ava shifted so that she was more visible. “I know I don’t look like what you remember, but it’s me. Ava Davies. Your crewmate.” Lowering her voice, she dropped her gaze to where his hand remained wrapped around her wrist and whispered, “Valdus, let me go to him. He’s terrified.”

He held tight. Too much was still unknown.

“How did you get here?” he asked the man.

The poor bastard shook harder. “I…I escaped.” A swollen, blackened tongue flicked out to run across cracked lips. “It’s chaos out there, since the Councilman’s appearance. My mast—” he cut himself off. “Draeke was wounded. He…he barely lives and…the others are scrambling…trying to find,” his eyes flickered over his shoulder, “her.”

His low growl sent the man scuttling back, palms flinging upward as if expecting a blow.

“N-not me,” sputtered the man. “I only wanted to escape. So, when they sent more of the guards looking for her and left us alone, I…I ran.”

A plausible enough explanation.

And yet Valdus didn’t like it.

Because the soldier was a link to Ava’s old life and he was a jealous, possessive bastard? Or because something about the man just didn’t sit right?

Silence descended.

The force of Ava’s pain and disapproval raked like claws down his back.

“All clear, Valdus.” Griffin, still nursing his wound, emerged from behind a nearby rock. There was no one better at camouflage and tracking than him. “No one’s following as far as I can tell. He’s alone.”

Valdus released his grip.

Ava sailed forward, sliding onto her knees beside Pratt. “You’re safe now,” she repeated, her arm gently circling the man’s back to hold him upright. “It’s going to be alright.”

Bain and Darvish exchanged a glance.

Valdus kept his expression purposely blank. This was her crewmate, after all. Her link to her old identity. Loyalty was to be expected and admired.

So why the hell did he want to rip the poor bastard from her arms and send him sailing down the hole he’d just been pulled from?

Shoving down the thought, he strode forward until he was looming over the sobbing man. “Can you walk?”

Ava shot him an exasperated look. “He’s only just catching his breath.”

“Taking time we don’t have.” The leader in him told him to forgo the risk and send the man on his way. But the man in him wanted something else. After all he’d taken from Ava—after all he was asking her to give up—he wanted to give her back something she really wanted as well.

“He’ll be searched before he enters the hold.” His gaze found hers, wanting to be certain she understood. “He’ll also be guarded round the clock by one of the men until we can be sure he’s not a threat. Under no circumstances is he to handle a weapon.”

Her nod of agreement came fast. “Of course. Thank you.”

The lightening of some of the shadows in her gaze eased some of his discomfort, but not enough. Especially when the man clutched Ava’s hands as if he were never letting go as she helped him to his feet.

“Thank you. Thank you.” Her old crewmate sobbed all over again.

It was hard to believe he’d once been the soldier assigned to look out for her.

“Ryker, Darvish, give the man a steadying hand.” The guy looked like he was about to fall over—and that was the only reason he gave the command. Not because a certain woman was currently shouldering way too much of the man’s weight.

Ryker shot him a knowing look. He pretended not to notice.

“Let’s move out.” He signaled for the others to line up. “The others will be anxious to hear what happened with the tests.”

Ava hurried to his side, slipping her hand into his. “Thank you.”

His nod was quick, the storm of sensation in his chest hard to contain. “He could still be a problem. He’ll have to be watched at all times. I don’t want you near him without someone else around.”

“Got it.” Her agreement came quick, but he caught the way her chin tipped up, the flare of defiance.

He understood. She’d been Hollisworth’s captive. Then his. She’d only just begun to stretch her wings and experience what it was to make her own choices.

But he couldn’t allow that need to cloud his judgment when it came to what was best for her or his men.

He wanted to do what was right for all, but he wasn’t so sure anymore what that was. What was once so simple, black and white, was now clouded by feeling. Emotion. Selfish need. Longing. An impulse to protect that could cost him everything.

Hold too close and he’d lose her forever.

Let her risk herself and he might lose her to Dragath25 just like he’d lost so many good men.

It had been so easy before when he felt no pain, no pleasure. But now…now his mind was battered by a never-ending technicolor waterfall of wants and desires and selfish needs. He was no longer sure anymore what made sense.

The responsibility weighed heavily. Something more, too. Something that shamed him. He’d always done what was best for the team, always considered the good of the many, but now…now all he wanted was to wrap his female in his arms and breathe her in. His star. His universe. His air.

The impulse to protect her above all else was messing with his ability to be a good leader and make the hard choices.

He didn’t know how to do both. To be both.

He only hoped protecting the one wouldn’t endanger the others. Or destroy them all.