Page 9 of Star-Crossed Captive
“If you behave, I won’t bind you. Do you understand?”
Her nod was automatic.
Heart pounding and limbs made of liquid, she unclasped her buckle. The heat of his hand lingered on her collarbone underneath the fabric of her uniform. He slapped the control by the door, and it slid open to reveal the ramp already half-lowered, whining.
She followed him to the hatch and stiffened when he grasped her upper arm.
“This way.” He tugged her down the ramp.
She hated his hand on her, but resisted the urge to yank it away, knowing it would be futile. On the far side of the bay stood a line of people wearing black uniforms, medical officers from her station. Some cried, others had their arms wrapped around their bodies defensively. Armed Tellusians in blue uniforms with hefty guns patrolled the line. Bile rose in her throat along with the panic.
I can’t do it.She couldn’t just stand by, submissive, and be turned into a slave. There had to be a way out.
Someone screamed. A medical officer attacked a warrior. The line fragmented, people panicking, trying to get away.Pop.The blast of a laser weapon echoed. Someone else screamed. The warriors moved in some choreographed formation, subduing the captives with barked orders.
But the one who attacked first was on the ground, unmoving, a laser wound spanning his back. She reached for her PALM again, needing a suppressant, but felt more panic when it wasn’t there. Bile rose in her throat. Her legs collapsed. A strong arm caught her around her waist before she could fall, turning her away from the sight.
“Do not look,izar.”
Her fingers dug into the skin of his arm, and she shook her head, swallowing the wretched taste in her throat. She’d seen countless laser wounds in her triage bay. The gore didn’t bother her. Death was an every day occurrence in her triage bay.
It was the violence of it. And the loss of an innocent man, one who’d vowed to heal, not hurt others.
“You will not be harmed if you don’t resist.”
She wanted to resist—to kick and scream and tear this place apart. The strength of her emotions truly startled her. She pressed against his arm, needing him to let go before she puked. He got the message and set her on her feet.
A slight turn of her head, and she witnessed the dead man being dragged away by his feet. She fisted her hands, her breaths leaving her in gasps. The Tellusian stepped in her line of sight, blocking her view. Through her mess of her hair, she glared, willing him to justify the death, wanting to hate him more.
His face was stony mask. Brow furrowing, his eyes swept over her. He opened his mouth to speak when a shout jerked his gaze away.
“Mace!”
Her captor turned, his face relaxing at the appearance of a newcomer.I would rather not know his name.She didn’t want to humanize him.
A man with dark brown hair cut close to his scalp wove though the foot traffic in the bay. His navy blue sleeveless uniform showed off the tattoos wrapping around his upper arms. A gun was strapped to his thigh and he wore knives at his waist. A length of metal wrapped around his left forearm, tech embedded in its surface. She’d seen them on images of Tellusian warriors on the media reels.
As soon as they were close enough, both men grabbed hold of the other’s wrists before pulling together for hearty slaps on each other’s shoulders. She cringed at the crudity of it, the hitting, the skin-to-skin contact. No civil bowing.
“I thought you were dead,” the other man said once they’d broke apart. He wore a wide smile, eyes filled with relief.
Cool air swirled where her captor had held her. Free from his touch, she took a step away.
“It was a close thing,” Mace replied, his gaze darting to her.
The other man stiffened. “Going to processing?”
Her captor switched over to that other language. When they looked away from her, she took another step back. Heart pounding, she focused on a recently landed transport, its wide hatch humming open. A thick crowd disembarked, moving en masse between ships toward them. Nia flicked her eyes to the two warriors ignoring her and held her breath.
Closer the tide of passengers came, until she retreated inside the crowd, allowing it to swallow her. It pushed and pulled.I can do this. She could escape, steal a ship, become a stowaway,anythingto get away from this place.
A clogged junction ahead had her heart beating an optimistic rhythm in her chest. If she reached it, there wouldn’t be a way to know which direction she’d taken. Freedom was so close.Just a few more meters.
Mace frowned when Grey stopped talking mid-sentence. “And…?”
Grey’s mouth upturned at the corner. “You know your captive ran away, right?”
“What?” Mace spun around and realized Grey was correct. He ran a jerky hand through his hair. “I told her to behave.”
