Page 114 of Star Bringer
Brent’s turning green, sweat rolling down his forehead as he looks frantically between his hand and Ian’s face.
The bartender appeared in the doorway at the first scream. He takes one look and moves right back through the door.
“We need to hurry!” I urge, even as I can’t believe the words are coming out of my mouth. If anyone had told me a month ago that I’d be sitting at a bar on Glacea while the only person I’ve ever kissed casually stabs a stranger, I would have laughed them out of the palace. But here we are. And the chance that the bartender comes back with help gets higher every second we waste.
Ian must realize the same thing, because instead of trying to reason with the now bleeding, sweating Brent, he just twists the knife, opening up the wound so blood glugs onto the table.
Brent screams once more, but Ian ignores him.
“Shall we try again?” he asks in a reasonable tone. “What exactly was the cargo on theReformer?”
“P-prisoners,” Brent stammers. “Just prisoners from that space station. Nobody important.”
I hear Ian’s indrawn breath, and suddenly his rage makes a lot more sense. “And where were you taking them?”
“Back to Askkandia. Ask the port supervisor. Our flight plan was filed. I’m telling you the truth.”
“No, you’re not.” He twists the knife again, back the other way this time, and I hear a sickening squelch as muscles and ligaments are severed.
Don’t puke. Don’t puke. Don’t fucking puke.
“Okay, okay. Stop. Please stop.” Brent’s full-on crying now, and I’m pretty close myself. I’d get up and leave, but I’m stuck here, chained to Ian for the foreseeable future, whatever that may bring. “We were taking them to the Wilds. We sell them out there. That’s the truth. Honest. Please. You’ve got to believe me.”
“Oh, I do,” Ian says. His face has gone pale. “Are you raiders?”
“No! No. I mean, yes, some of them—but not me, man. I don’t do that shit. I just fix comms. You gotta believe me.”
Ian’s expression doesn’t change. “Which asteroid?”
This time, Brent doesn’t hesitate. “Delta V47.”
“Come on. We’ve got what we need.” Ian pulls the knife free and stands up. “Just one more thing,” he says, then plunges the knife into Brent’s throat.
He makes a gargling noise, his hands scrambling to his neck as though he can hold in the blood that’s spurting everywhere. Ian pulls the knife free, calmly wipes it on Brent’s jacket, and slips it into the sheath at his thigh. Then he turns and walks away, grabbing the bottle and pulling me along.
And I have no choice but to go right along with him.
As we pass the bar, I see a flickering screen that’s got to be a century old embedded into the wall, right below theViolence Not Tolerated Indoorssign. And that flickering screen has a message that’s becoming all too familiar.Crap.It’s one of the dead-or-alive postings, in digital form because getting paper flyers onto treeless Glacea would probably be even more expensive than the reward they’re offering. This one is of Ian, and he’s clearly identifiable, even on the low-quality tech. Things just keep getting better and better.
As I step outside, I welcome the icy cold, because my stomach is churning and I feel hot all over. Why did Ian’s actions surprise me? I’ve seen him kill before—fuck, I just watched him kill four people, and it barely registered on my radar. I know exactly who and what he is. I just hadn’t expected it this time. Not when there was no reason for killing that man when he’d given us everything we asked for.
I need to know.
Ian is ahead of me, almost dragging me along through the gravity and the biting wind that’s slamming us straight in our faces over and over again.
But this time I dig my feet in and refuse to move. Short of carrying me, his only option is to stop. Which he does with a glare. “What?” he growls.
“You didn’t have to kill him.”
“Yes, I fucking did.” His voice is filled with so much rage and pain that I take an instinctive step back.
The handcuffs strain, locking me in place.
Then Ian takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “I don’t have to explain shit to you, but just this once, I will. There was a good chance he would have sent a message, warned his bosses we were coming. I couldn’t risk it.” He shakes his head. “But that’s not the only reason I killed him. He’s a human trafficker, Kali. A raider. Absolute scum. He fucking sold Milla and who knows how many other people into whatever the fuck is out there in the asteroid belt and beyond. That’s a death sentence—not to mention a life of torture. And when the people that man in there sold for a quick payday kill themselves or they die from abuse or neglect or straight-up murder, the assholes out there just buy more from the Corporation whenever they need them. So, no, maybe I didn’t have to kill him—but I fucking wanted to. Any other questions?”
I shake my head, my face the perfect passive royal mask as his words whirl through my mind.
I know there is business along the inner edge of the Wilds, but I’ve never thought much about it before. I certainly never thought about how they got people to work all the way out there.
