Chapter 33 Laura
THIRTY-THREE
LAURA
Dom jerks violently, his back arching. His hands shoot to his throat, clutching hard.
He’s being choked right in front of my eyes.
“Stop it!” I scream to the heavens as I lunge for him. “Nevare didn’t need killing, he needed help! He’s not out of control, we passed your stupid test.”
His legs kick, spasming. His mouth opens, gasping, but no sound escapes. His body flickers, fading.
No. Fuck that.
I grab hold of him. I won’t lose him. I won’t. Gold swarms around us, flooding my vision, as bright and blinding as the sun.
Then I shove outwards. The remnants of my secret room blast away, flung back in a nuclear explosion, leaving just the Roadhouse standing. A scream rings out: mine? Or the other Apex’s?
Murky impressions float through the light. Behind the Roadhouse, the courtroom is in disarray, loud protests. The Voice saying, “I order you to stop the euthanization.”
“He failed the Base loyalty test.” The Prif, stubborn, clinging to the last bastion of her legal system. Swirls of red anger surround her, raw as fresh burns, but I know what I’ll find inside.
Cold blue spikes of fear.
I turn my head, but I can’t. We’re pinned to the execution pole, body shaking as the thread tightens.
“The connection is hurting the human female,” the Voice protests.
“Once he’s dead, she will be free,” Samara counters.
Dom closes his eyes, sliding us into darkness. ‘Law-rah, get away from me. I don’t want to hold onto you. I… I might pull you down.’
I grab him harder. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’
Channeling all my frustration, all my anger, all my love, I aim it at the thread choking off Dom’s air.
‘Law-rah, are you trying to—’
‘Not trying.’ I imagine my hands pulling that horrible garrote apart. Snapping it, then shearing through the chains around his wrists.
White hot pain floods me, blinding me, but I hold one thing clear.
Dom.
The Roadhouse vanishes. I blink, head swimming. I’m standing in the courtroom, sound battering at me. I can’t make any sense of it. Whose body am I in? The glittering floor swoops toward me as I fall.
Dom scoops me up, pulling me to his heartbeats. They thunder in my ears, the best rhythm in the universe.
I look up at him. His lilac eyes are grave, studying mine, brushing my hair back from my face.
“You’re alive,” I croak.
“So are you, despite wielding a psychic blade.” He wraps his arms around me, shutting out the world, scales soft and warm. “Never do that again.”
The courtroom erupts. Green hands prise Dom’s arms open, Selthiastocks like Gara touching my hands and face. He lays me down on the floor, the data streams pulsing around us, a strong circle of light.
“Is it over?” I ask Dom, but he straightens up and away from me. Parthiastocks take his arms, the shackles around his wrists clinking as the broken chains between them swing free. The Sanitatum plants in the analysis wall behind them ripple like seaweed in the ocean, feasting.
A Selthiastock slides my translation headphones into place on my ears, and suddenly I can understand again.
“She’s not in control, he is,” the Prif storms. “This is an insidious attack on our very society.”
Fuck, she’s still at it. Brushing away the Selthiastocks, I sit up. “What will it take for you to understand, Samara? He’s not a threat.”
She whirls to face us, glaring at Dom. Her blue spikes flare up: somehow, I can see them right now. Maybe because I was so close to Dom, we were one being.
“Samara, I can see you’re afraid,” I say, and the courtroom quietens. After what we’ve just been through, though, having the attention of a whole court is nothing. “I understand what you’re trying to do. You just want to protect your society, your way of life.”
I can’t confront her on why her ‘civilization’ doesn’t deserve the name, how it needs to be destroyed, how fucked it is that clones can be treated like throwaway things and not people. It’s a battle I won’t win right now.
I need to go for one victory, just one small chink in the system first, a single place for a crowbar to be shoved in later and crack it wide open.
I point to Dom. “We defined a safe clone as being under control with abilities understood. I am in charge of our abilities. I understand them, now. And he’s under control. My control.” And his own, I add silently.
Dom stands apart, arms held by his guards. He shoots me such a warm look I can’t help but smile back.
Samara trembles. She’s starting to lose her cool, and that makes her unpredictable.
She orders Dom, “Tear one of your hearts out for her.”
“No!” I scramble upright, plant myself between her and him. The wall of Sanitatums reach toward me.
“He has to obey,” Samara snarls.
Behind me, there’s a clank. I glance over my shoulder to see a Parthiastock has let Dom’s right arm go, and he raises it up to his chest, chains clinking.
‘I’ll live, Law-rah. I have two hearts,’ he reminds me.
‘But she’ll just demand something else of you. She’s trying to get you to refuse a direct order, she’ll keep going.’
‘And so will I. I won’t disobey, she won’t find me lacking.’
I can see it now, Dom and Samara in a constant escalation. She wants to break him, but Dom won’t. He’ll endure pain, agony, suffering, all of it.
What could I offer as a true test, something that would show everyone who he really is?
I know.
My cheeks flush hot, but my heart pounds with certainty. I can’t lose him. If I have to give up a part of myself to do it, then… that’s the price I’ll pay. For Dom. For everything he means to me.
I take a breath, summoning every ounce of courage I have. “I know what would be a real test,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady as Samara’s gaze sharpens on me. “Something I've forbidden him to do.”
Dom’s scales darken to violet, hardening. He knows what I’m suggesting before I say it. He understands me deeper than anyone else ever has, and he's not even using the mind-sync.
“No,” he says, his voice a low growl. His defiance sends a shiver down my spine. “I won’t do it.”
I meet his eyes, my heart aching. I know what I’m asking him to accept, but I also know what’s at stake. “Dom, this might be the only way.”
He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink. “I won’t do it. You once asked me to swear to tell you lav-en-dar if something sounds too much or ever becomes uncomfortable for me. I’m telling you now, this is too far. Lav-en-dar, Law-rah.”
My eyes sting with tears as my heart swells. He’s willing to endure so much to protect me, sacrificing himself just to keep a part of me from being laid bare before this unforgiving audience. He’s always been ready to die for my sake.
But I won’t let that happen.
“What is it?” Samara asks, eyes positively gleeful at finding something Dom’s refusing to contemplate.
I raise my chin. “I have a strict boundary with my…
lovers. I'm saving myself for my husband, my mate, a man I'm going to be with forever.
Someone who sees all of me, who completes me and complements me in all aspects of my life.
Who can put up with me being a control freak, who's as freaky as me and accepts it, welcomes it, even.”
Dom's shape blurs beyond my tears.
Him.
This big kind alien slipped through my borders and now he's all I want. All I've ever needed. He's perfect for me.
“Saving yourself?” Samara's tone is accusing. “What does that mean?”
“I… I'm a virgin. Saving myself for… one special guy.” I lift my chin. Now I’ve found him. I won't be intimidated by her.
I look up at my gentle giant. “Dom, fuck me.”
He sucks in a breath. His scales can't seem to settle on a color, moving from pale pastel purple to peach.
I set my hand on his chest. “Let's get those chains off you.”
As I touch the manacles, they spring free. I grip his arm as he’s released, the weight of him sagging briefly before he stands straight again, his scales clammy under my fingers.
I support him as best I can, swallowing down the anger threatening to boil over. He shouldn’t have to go through this. He shouldn’t have to endure any of this.
Samara seems fascinated by my admission. “You're untouched?”
“I wouldn't say that,” I mutter. “I've probably done everything else at least once, and sometimes upside down. But I wanted to keep something special for myself, to share with the man I love.”
So maybe I'm a romantic, too.
Dom and I really are perfect for each other.
Samara’s voice rings out, cutting through the quiet. “Dom,” she says, her gaze sharp and glinting with malice. “Take her now, in front of everyone here. Follow her orders and mine.”
My stomach twists, a surge of panic mingling with fury. She’s trying to humiliate me. This isn’t solely about Dom proving anything, this is about breaking us both.
The tension in the room coils tighter, the spectators holding their breath, eager for the next twist in this grotesque spectacle.
I glance at Dom, see the conflict in his eyes. He understands exactly what Samara’s trying to do. His jaw tightens, his expression hardening into a defiance that even his exhaustion can’t hide.
“No,” he says, his voice steady, unwavering.
Samara’s eyes narrow. She raises an eyebrow, her tone dripping with challenge. “You refuse a direct order from me?”
Dom doesn’t hesitate, his gaze locked on her, unblinking. “Yes. I refuse.”
Samara’s mouth twists into a sneer. “So you’re not under control at all.” She raises her hand, gesturing to the guards. “Arrest him.”
The Parthiastocks move toward him, their faces blank masks as they prepare to follow her orders. A swell of desperation rises up inside me, my instincts screaming at me to protect him, to do something, anything.
I step in front of Dom, putting myself squarely in their path. “Then arrest me too.”
The guards falter.
My heart races, but I don’t back down. “This is a mockery of your court,” I say, my voice clear and loud, cutting through the thick silence.
“Prif Samara has turned this into a show. A cruel spectacle for your own amusement. This follows no laws or precedence, nothing you said your justice was built on. Just as I thought, your laws are swayed by her desires.”
My words ripple through the room, stirring the watching crowd. Faces shift, whispers rising, murmurs of scandal flitting from one person to the next.
I look to them, dark shadowy figures who've just watched this all play out like Saturday night entertainment. “If there’s anyone you should be questioning, it’s not him. It’s the Prif. She’s the one abusing her power here, not a clone.”
The crowd shifts again, the whispering growing louder, turning into a low murmur that fills the room. Some of them are looking at each other, nodding, their expressions torn between shock and escalating outrage.
Dom’s hand comes up, brushing against my shoulder, a silent gesture of gratitude. I can feel his exhaustion radiating off him, but there’s a spark of something else in his eyes, something that matches the fire in my own chest.
Taking his hand, I step forward, addressing the room with every ounce of conviction I have. “This is supposed to be a court of law. Yet here we are, witnessing nothing but manipulation and abuse. Is this what justice looks like to you?”
More murmurs ripple through the females, the tension shifting, splintering.
The Prif’s authority, once so absolute, now feels precarious, teetering on the edge.
The weight of what we’re fighting against feels less daunting, as though the crowd itself is starting to see the injustice laid bare before them.
Dom and I share a look, both of us clinging to that sliver of hope. We’re not alone.
Samara’s voice rings out through the courtroom, cold and unyielding. “This clone has been given two direct orders. Two. He has disobeyed, refusing to follow through. He has not removed one of his hearts, and he has not obeyed the human’s order.”
“Those are shit orders,” I protest, but the Voice says, “The human will be silent for now.”
The Prif’s eyes skate over me, over my head toward the crowd.
“The order to tear out one of his hearts would have been rescinded at the last moment. It was designed to be difficult to comply with, but we expected complete and absolute obedience to be bred and trained into every Parthiastock. The human’s order, however?
Utterly unorthodox, and certainly not my suggestion.
Perhaps that is how things are done on Earth. ”
The courtroom dims, or is that just my vision? I press my palms to my thighs, trying to stop them from trembling, but everyone can see.
I’m failing. We’re losing.
The Prif’s voice cuts sharply through my gasping breaths.
“Parthiastock clones above all are held to a higher standard. Our dear Parthia, the inspiration for these clones, was laser focused on upholding our laws. These particular clones are meant to police all clones. If we cannot trust one of them, which clone can we trust?”
Murmurs in the crowd rise like a wave, a tide that will drown us both. Dom bows his head.
The Prif points at him. “He has failed.”