Page 24 of Star-Crossed Captive
Wiping more blood onto the sleeve of his uniform, Foley said, “You should be thanking me. Everyone’s heard about the captive you kept to play with and—”
Mace’s fist connected with Foley’s face for a second time, in the exact same spot as it had before.
Foley’s head snapped back, but he stayed on his feet. “What the fuck?” he roared, charging forward. Mace braced, ready to do more damage, when Poole stepped between them. Grey was there a second later.
Mace’s body slammed into his friend’s. “Get out of the way,” he gritted.
“Think what you’re doing.” Grey spoke the words quietly, but there was steel in his tone.
But the urge to kill Foley was so strong, he could hardly see straight. He wanted him to pay. For everything.
For attackingElara Five.
For almost killing them.
For Mace taking Nia instead of leaving her behind.
The thought was a cold spray of water in his face. As angry as he was at Foley, he was more enraged with himself. He’d used her as a shield like a coward. If there’d been another way to survive the situation, he hadn’t seen it.
But I should have left her to die.
Mace straightened, digging his hand into his hair, and watched as Poole restrained a thrashing Foley.
“You need to blow off some steam,” Grey said under his breath.
Mace stepped back. “Yeah.”
With Foley still vowing in three different languages to bring hell on his family, Mace turned around and headed toward the lift, Grey beside him.
Before the lift door closed, he met Foley’s gaze. The commander had stopped fighting Poole. Blood dripped down his face as he stared at Mace with an expression that promised retribution.
As the lift ascended, Mace stared at his reflection in the shiny surface of the control panel. Then he punched it, a dull crack reverberating in the small space. “Fuck!”
Breaths labored from exertion, Mace wiped his neck and chest with the towel and threw it to the deck. He flexed his fingers, wincing. The cuts and bruises shifted over the bones of his knuckles.
The confrontation with Foley kept bouncing around in his head. He’d owed the man the first punch, but with the second, he may have started a blood feud. He should have regretted it but didn’t. Mace wanted more of Foley’s blood spilled. Then maybe his mind would finally settle.
Because no matter how much he pounded the shit out of the padded column, he couldn’t erase the sound of Nia’s voice when she’d begged him to leave her onElara Five.
Heshouldn’tcare. Compassion for his pint-sized ward would only lead to weakness.
I am not weak.If other commanders and those below him thought he couldn’t handle his job, then there would be no end to the challenges for his position. Hell, Cache would call him out herself if she thought him unfit for duty.
And all because he was stupid enough to care about what happened to one CORE doctor.
His vambrace beeped. It was the end of Nia’s shift. Bending, he scooped his shirt from the deck and pulled it over his damp body. He’d shower later.
Grey gave him a wave, eyes concerned, as Mace walked the outer edges of the sparring area and took the stairs two at a time to the barracks level, then out into the atrium. He kept his pace quick as he strode to the lift and rode it down.
A few more corridors later, and Mace stepped into the medical bay. Three medics glared at Nia’s back while she attended the only patient in the room. They abruptly scattered when they saw him, trying to look busy with their duties.
Nia sat on a stool, a boy’s foot in her lap. The kid’s father stood beside her, arms crossed over his chest, looking as grumpy as the medics.
Completely focused, she moved a regenerator over the boy’s ankle. A strange sensation unfurled in his chest as Mace leaned against the door frame to watch.
The boy twitched and Nia’s head snapped up.
“Are you okay? Has the numbing agent stopped working because—”
