Some asshole clears his throat, and I groan, irritated about being woken up before I’m damn well ready. It’s always something in the bullpen. Weights slamming down on the machines in the yard. Grunts as men pump out pushups…or jack off. The crinkle of empty food pouches being stepped on. The slam of a cell door.

Yet there’s none of that this morning. There’s only sunlight shining through my closed eyelids, and the asshole clearing his throat loudly, right outside my cell.

And the warm, soft, bare skin beneath my hand—

Kaya.

My eyes fly open. I’m not in the bullpen anymore. I’m in the woods, my shoulder pressed into the hard ground beneath a layer of plastic poncho and bath towels, which has gotten all bunched up overnight. The fire’s out, but the early morning sun is already starting to warm up the day. We should get up and get moving—

That throat-clearing sound comes from behind me again and I freeze as I realize that wasn’t part of my dream. Fuck.

Kaya’s still asleep. I roll over slowly, grasping over my head for the multi-tool blade I left out, in order to have it accessible in the night.

“Looking for this?” a deep voice asks, just as the man behind me comes into focus. The left side of his face is bisected by a long, jagged line of old scar tissue. He’s holding my knife.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Kaya.” I reach back to shake her shoulder without taking my gaze from the big fucker standing over us. Wielding my knife. “Kaya, baby, wake up.”

“Hmmm…?” she mumbles. Then she sits up, and my spare shirt falls off her shoulders to expose her bare breasts to the forest. And to the asshole standing over us.

“Put your shirt on,” I tell her as I reach for my bag, keeping myself between her and the dark-haired stranger.

Kaya blinks. Then her gaze focuses on him and fear flits across her expression. Her hands tremble as she pulls the shirt over her head. “Please just leave us alone,” she says to the scarred man. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Well then, you probably shouldn’t have stolen my breakfast.” He nods at the remains—mostly just bones—of the rabbit we ate last night.

Shit.

“I apologize,” she says. “We were hungry, and—”

“It’s okay,” I tell her. Then I look up at the man. “You’re going to back off. I’m going to stand up. And we’re going to talk about this. Civilly.”

He scowls. But then he takes a single step back, giving me precious little space. “Stand. But leave your bag where it is.”

My other knife is in that bag.

Kaya watches the two of us as she pulls her pants on, an awkward chore, while she’s still seated. To the man’s credit, he’s not gawking at her. Probably because he knows better than to take his focus from me.

I stand and am startled to realize that I’m still looking up at the stranger. He’s the biggest fucker I’ve ever seen in person. Bigger, even, than any of the gladiators I fought on Grand Champion. Or in the bullpen.

I’m six-two, but he’s easily five inches taller and fifty pounds heavier. This huge fucker could probably eat a whole deer for breakfast, so I’m not sure how much good that one little rodent would have done him. Still… “I’m sorry about your rabbit—”

“Are you with this man voluntarily?” the stranger interrupts, his focus trained on Kaya now that she’s dressed. “Has he hurt you? Because I can offer you…sanctuary. Safety.”

What the hell? Is he trying to lure her away from me? “Don’t come near her,” I growl, and the scarred man puffs up, the potential for violence rolling off him like smoke before a fire.

Kaya puts a hand on my arm, but her gaze is on him. “Thank you, but I won’t sell myself for protection.”

His scowl deepens. “That’s not what I’m offering. We have other women. A community. If you need help, you are welcome.” He turns to me. “You are not.”

I feel like I should be offended by that, but I’m still stuck on the first part of what he just said. “Other women? I’m looking for—”

“No. The women are under our protection. Any man who comes near without permission will be killed, no questions asked.”

“It’s not like that.” Kaya tucks the end of her shirt into pants that won’t stay up. “We’re looking for his sister. Her name is Sylvie. She’s not quite my height, with long, dark hair. Very toned. She would probably have been traveling in the company of a man named Graham.”

“Graham?” Recognition flickers behind the stranger’s eyes.

“Have you seen him?” I demand. “Have you seen my sister?”

“No.” He frowns, as if he believes he’s going to regret whatever he’s about to say. “But you two should come with me.”

“Despite your no men policy?”

Something like amusement flashes over his broad features. “We’ll make an exception, just this once.” He glances at the pile of towels and plastic beneath us. “Get your things.”

But I’m not about to drag Kaya into a situation I don’t understand. With the biggest fucker I’ve ever met.

“Who are you?” I ask as I start shaking off our towels, careful not to turn my back to him.

“My name is Tyson. That’s all you need to know, for now.”

When Kaya reaches for the poncho, Tyson frowns at her right hand. Her makeshift bandage has fallen off. “Where’s your prisoner number?”

She goes still, and I bristle.

“Who are you?” Tyson demands in a soft, low-pitched voice. As if he’s afraid of spooking her. “You have my word that I mean you no harm. None of us do.”

“I…um…”

“She crash-landed here,” I tell him. “She’s not a prisoner.”

His gaze narrows on Kaya. “Tell me the truth. Are you with him of your own free will? Because if he’s mistreating you in any way, I’ll end him right now.”

“Fuck off!” I snap, torn between relief that he obviously doesn’t want to hurt her and indignation that he doesn’t believe the same of me. And that he thinks I’d be easy to kill. “I would never hurt her.”

“We’re…friends,” Kaya assures him.

“With mind-blowing benefits,” I add, and she elbows me.

Tyson studies her, evidently looking for signs of duress. He seems to be weighing some kind of decision. “I think we can help you, Miss…?”

“Kaya,” she says, and I’m relieved when she doesn’t offer anything more.

“Who’s we?” I take the folded poncho from her and slide it into my bag, behind the other supplies.

“I told you,” he growls. “A community of friends. We call it the Sorority, because it functions as a sanctuary for female prisoners. I’ll take you there—I think we can help you both—but you’ll have to hand over any other weapons you have.”

“You have our only weapon,” I lie, with a pointed glance at my multi-tool, still clutched in his massive fist.

His mouth flattens into a skeptical line, but he doesn’t press the issue.

“How can you help us?” Kaya asks as she ties a frayed shoelace around her last shoe, to keep it on.

“I’ll explain when we get there.” Tyson’s gaze lands on the pile of rabbit skin and fur, lying on the ground next to our extinguished fire. He shakes his head in disgust. “That is the single worst job of skinning a rabbit I’ve ever seen.”

*

“That’s the Sorority, up ahead,” Tyson says as we step out of the woods. He nods at two buildings situated on a hill. Then he turns to me. “Don’t ever try to approach without me. Callum and the others are likely to kill you on sight.”

Kaya seems to startle at the name, and I want to ask her how she knows this Callum. But I don’t want her to reveal anything more than necessary about herself in front of Tyson.

“They’d kill me because I’m not a woman?” I say.

He nods grimly. “We’ve had to put down several men in the months since we got here. A couple tried to take a woman. Two tried to infiltrate under the auspices of offering aid. And one actually joined us. Spent nearly two weeks earning our trust, then took off with one of the women. We had to hunt that fucker down. Poor girl hasn’t said a word since we got her back.”

“So, you’re, like…protecting them?” Kaya says. “The women?”

He nods. “Most of them have been through a lot, and they just want a chance to live out their sentences in peace.”

“How many are there?” I ask, and he shoots a sharp, angry glance my way.

“For future reference, that’s the kind of question likely to raise suspicions. If you’re not here to scout us out, try not to sound like you are.”

Kaya lays one hand on his arm, and Tyson stops walking to glance at her in surprise. “I swear on my life that Sebastian means your community no harm. He has an impulsive tongue, but he’s a good man.”

Her words surprise me. And oddly, they make me ache to touch her. To pull her close, just to feel her against me.

After a second, Tyson nods. Then he starts walking. “So, tell me about your sister. Are you sure she’s here? In this zone?”

“Yes. She and I—and Graham—were in zone one,” I explain. “That’s the arena.”

“The arena?” Tyson frowns. I’m pretty sure that’s the only expression he knows how to make. “You’re a gladiator?”

“I was. But I’m not planning to go back.”

“Well then maybe you can explain this arena thing? People actually fly all the way out here to watch prisoners kill each other?”

Kaya shrugs. “Universal Authority broadcasts gladiatorial fights across the galaxy, and most people just watch on the feeds. Have you really never seen them?”

Well done. Her explanation didn’t even hint at the fact that she was a big part of that, for UA.

“No,” Tyson says. “I’ve been here a long time, and I didn’t have much free time as a kid. But zone three is crawling with former gladiators.”

“That’s because the champions are released into zone three with their death sentences commuted to life in prison.” Kaya gives me a nervous glance, and I can see what she’s thinking. Gladiators—particularly the ones who survived the arena—are the most violent convicts on the planet. And some of the champions wandering around out here might recognize her. We’ve been lucky not to run into any of them so far.

Tyson turns to her as we walk. “These fights are similar to what went on at the Resort?”

“The Resort?” I ask.

“Zone two.” Tyson opens and closes my multi-tool for the millionth time, and the clicking is about to drive me crazy. “That’s where your friend Graham was before the arena.”

“You said you hadn’t seen him or my sister.”

“I’ve never met either of them,” he explains. “But Graham and I have a mutual friend.”

“Callum Fischer,” Kaya guesses. “He’s with you? At this community?” Tyson nods, and Kaya turns to me. “A few months ago, there was a riot at the Resort. More than a riot. It was more like a total slaughter. More than fifty guards died. Millions of credits’ worth of hardware and equipment were destroyed. And a couple dozen inmates escaped into zone three. Mostly…” Her eyes widen as she stares at Tyson. “Mostly women. Those are the women you’re protecting?”

Tyson nods.

“Footage and eyewitness accounts credit Callum Fischer with starting the whole thing,” she adds, evidently for my benefit.

“Actually, Maci started it,” Tyson says. “Graham was captured during their escape. Callum will be glad to know he survived.”

Thanks to Kaya. And Sylvie.

“You said he’s in zone three now?” Tyson comes to an abrupt halt about fifty paces from the closest of the two buildings.

“Yes,” I say as a face appears in one of the windows, staring out at us. “He’s out here somewhere. With my sister.”

“Hopefully,” Kaya adds. “We haven’t actually seen either of them yet.”

Before Tyson can ask the question obviously weighing on him, the front door of the building flies open, and another man steps out. He’s smaller than Tyson, but he has the build and the easy fluid movements of a trained fighter.

Several women follow him out, taking up aggressive stances on either side of him. They’re ready to defend their territory. And they’re armed with all manner of…sharp sticks.

“Ty?” One of the women approaches, clearly having decided he wouldn’t bring a threat into their midst. “What’s going on?”

“I found the source of the smoke. Also, we’re down one rabbit.” He wraps his arm around the petite blond. “Guys, this is Kaya and…” He frowns at me. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Sebastian,” I tell him.

One of the women—a very small, very young brunette—gasps. “You’re Havoc! I used to watch you on the feeds.” She frowns. “Well, actually, I used to help my brother take bets on your fights.”

The man next to her, clearly Callum, frowns at her in confusion. Then he asks her a question—in my local dialect. “Who is this, Maci?”

I answer in that same dialect. “I’m Sebastian Wolfe. It sounds like we have a mutual friend—and a mutual birthplace.”

“You know his language?” Maci gasps. “I’ve been trying to learn, but I still only pick up about half of it.” Yet the way she’s looking at him tells me they’ve managed to communicate just fine so far, on at least one level.

“It’s a dialect exclusive to a region on my homeworld, as far as I know,” I tell her. “My sister and Graham both speak it as well.”

“Graham?” Callum says. “You know Graham Anderson?”

“I do,” I tell him.

Tyson grunts. “Looks like we have a lot to talk about. Come inside.”

*

A blond woman named Audra leads Kaya and me to a large room that was probably once a lobby. There’s no true furniture, but scattered around the floor are about a dozen large cushions made from what looks like bedsheets sewn into squares or rectangles, stuffed with… I have no idea what they’re stuffed with. Some make a dry crinkly sound that reminds me of hay. So maybe…dried grass?

“Sorry for the accommodations. We’re still largely roughing it here.” Maci shrugs. “When the original settlers abandoned this place to Universal Authority, they didn’t leave much furniture behind in zone three, and what they did leave was evidently claimed before we got here.”

“We intended to trade for some,” one of the women says, her features screwed into a bitter scowl. “But so far it seems safer to stay isolated here than to advertise our presence. And when people do wander out this way, they’re never hauling furniture, and they’d usually rather eat than smell good.”

“I don’t understand,” Kaya says.

“When we ran from the Resort, we took a couple dozen bottles of shampoo, hair removal cream, and lotion,” a woman who’s introduced herself as Lilli explains. “But most people we meet are reluctant to trade food for scented hygiene products. And so far, we’ve voted not to take food by force, even though there are enough of us that we could.”

“It doesn’t do us any good to breed resentment and aggression from our neighbors,” Tyson insists. “Have a seat.” He gestures at one of the homemade cushions, and Kaya and I sink onto it together, while everyone else finds seats—some on the floor—around us.

I feel like we’re the subject of a very grown-up session of show-and-tell. Fortunately, our new hosts seem content to go first.

There are thirty-one women in the “Sorority.” Twenty-nine of them were rescued by Callum and Maci during their coup of the Resort, during which Graham Anderson—the love of my sister’s life—and one of the women were recaptured.

Tyson was right. Callum is very relieved to hear that Graham most likely survived the arena and is probably in zone three, along with Sylvie. He also seems pleased that I’m able to translate for him.

Audra is the Sorority’s thirty-first woman, and two things are clear from the moment we meet her. First, she is just as much in charge here as Tyson is. And second, that giant bastard is wrapped around her finger.

Audra and Tyson escaped into zone three from zone four, to avoid an arrangement that kept the peace between a men’s settlement and a women’s settlement by turning the women into prostitutes forced to pleasure a chosen “guardian” in exchange for food and shelter. Which, they explain, is what the Sorority is trying to avoid here in zone three.

What if Sylvie had been released into zone four? I can’t stand to think of my sister put in that position, which is exactly what I thought I’d be saving her from in the bullpen.

Tyson and Callum are the only men in the Sorority. They both seem perfectly capable of raising hell, and I’d hate to go up against either of them in the arena. Still, thirty-one women is a lot for two men to defend. Which is why most of the women are armed with homemade weapons. Why most of them look limber and wiry. There’s clearly been some training going on here, of the kind Kaya will need if we’re going to be on this planet much longer.

I really hope we’re not on this planet much longer.

“So, your sister is a gladiator too?” Maci asks, once the conversation turns to Kaya and me.

“Kind of. She was an anatomy teacher, on the outside.” In what I still think of as her real life. “Then she killed our sister’s murderer, and when she got the death penalty, she chose death by combat.”

“She’s totally badass,” Kaya adds, and an odd warmth swells inside me. “She won last season’s championship and was released into zone three a few weeks ago.”

Again, I translate for Callum, who looks truly pleased to completely understand a conversation.

“So, how did Graham get into zone three?” he asks in our dialect.

I translate his question for the rest of the crowd before it occurs to me that answering it will be complicated. “Well…” I glance at Kaya. I’m not sure what to say without revealing that she works for UA—a fact which will not endear her to most prisoners. “My sister called in a favor from someone on the staff, who made sure that the gun they gave her in the final fight would only stun him, rather than killing him.” Another glance at Kaya. “But we’re not sure it worked.”

“You’re not sure the employee came through?” Audra asks.

“Oh, she came through,” Kaya insists, and too late, I realize that Audra knows we’re hiding something. “We just haven’t actually seen either Graham or Sylvie yet, so we haven’t been able to verify that everything went as planned.”

“And who are you?” Audra asks with a pointed glance at Kaya’s right hand. “You’re not a prisoner.”

“No, I was in a crash,” she says, without even a glance at me. “Sebastian saved my life.”

Tyson scowls at us, and I can’t tell whether that means he doesn’t believe us or that a scowl is truly the only expression he’s capable of.

“What kind of crash?” Maci asks. “What kind of craft? Nothing can get through the pyro-shield without authorization, and the only ships that have authorization are guard shuttles and guest shuttles.”

“Guest shuttles?” But I’m pretty sure I know what she means even before she explains.

“Highly fortified, armed shuttles that carry wealthy guests to places like the Resort.”

An uncomfortable current seems to flow over the rest of the room, as the women shift in their seats. They look angry. And that’s when I start to understand.

They were victimized at the Resort, by these guests. By bastards like the executives who take tours on the blimp. Like Yelena, who tried to pay for my…time. Only the women likely weren’t treated so gently.

Tyson’s hard gaze lands on Kaya. “Are you a guest?” His voice is a stone-cold growl. An implicit threat.

“No,” I tell the entire room, my frame suddenly tense. I won’t let them hurt her. “She’s not a guest.”

“Then how did she get through the pyro-shield?” Audra demands softly. Then she turns to me. “And how did you get out of zone one?”

“We don’t owe them an explanation.” I stand and reach for Kaya’s hand. “Let’s go.”

Tyson moves toward the door, and though no one’s translated, Callum has caught enough to know he should have Tyson’s back. As if that big fucker needs help. “There’s something off about you two,” he says. “If you don’t want this to come to blows, you need to start telling the truth right fucking now.”

I think I can take him. It won’t be easy—did I mention he’s huge?—but I have a lot of experience fighting opponents who’re larger than I am. Unfortunately, if this does get violent, I won’t just be fighting Tyson. I’ll also be fighting Callum. And probably all thirty-one of the women.

This is not the kind of scenario I can brawl my way out of. Which leaves me at a total loss. Fighting is what I do.

Kaya squeezes my hand, and I glance at her to find terror swimming in her eyes. But her spine is straight and her chin is up. This isn’t the Kaya I kidnapped and dragged through zone one against her will. This is the Kaya who knows how to work any room. The businesswoman who gets what she wants through a combination of orders given in a sweetly authoritative voice and flat-out schmoozing.

This is the Kaya who decided to stay in zone three and help me of her own accord.

“You’re right.” She turns to address the rest of the room, putting her back to Tyson and Callum as if they represent no threat to her. “We haven’t told you everything. And we have a very good reason for that. But if you’re willing to listen with an open mind, I’m willing to talk.”