Chapter 7
Three weeks had passed since Sara and her crew had gassed the Vrak’rir and his crew and then dragged their unconscious forms onto a shuttle. They’d set the navigation to the shuttle to just go… nowhere in particular. Just in the opposite direction they were planning to head.
Three weeks of being on the run. It seemed Ak’kel was living up to his promise and constantly trying to hunt her down.
Every time she thought they might be safe, they caught wind of one of his ships or his people nearby searching.
Damn. He had his hands in almost every part of space from what it felt like.
Sara sat with some of her crew at a table in the common area. Her hands were wrapped around a mug of synth-ale, the faint hum of the ship’s engines in the background. "Maybe I should give myself over to him." She murmured as she glanced around the table.
"Like hell." Berg snarled as his head snapped up. "No way we'd let you." He folded his arms and scowled at her with a clenched jaw. "Even if we have to mutiny and tie you up."
"He probably won't kill me." Sara reasoned. "I'm his mate after all."
"Did you conveniently forget all the information I dug up on him?" Joana asked with skeptically raised brow. "Man's a raving lunatic. Do you really think your status as his mate will save you?"
"Yeah," Cat agreed. "He's even killed family members for going against him, and you've probably, no,” she pointed a finger at Sara, “you definitely embarrassed him in front of his men.
I don't think you have to worry about him killing you.
I think you need to worry about all the ways he can torture you without the bliss of death. "
The room went silent, as each of them thought of the grim ways Ak’kel could torture her.
"We've barely been able to pick up supplies without feeling his men breath down our necks." Sara sighed, tired from the constant running around. "Every run we make is a gamble, because we all know he won't stop."
Cat closed her eyes and heaved a sigh. “We can’t keep living like this. We’re barely scraping by. Every time we stop by a debris field we have to run away. Same with the scrap yards.” She let her forehead drop to the tabletop.
"You can't be seriously thinking about it." Berg glared at the top of Cat’s head.
Cat shrugged, still face down. "Can we keep living this way? We can barely keep up with simple supply runs. We aren't able to spend time at debris fields."
Even though Sara was the one to have suggested it, it still hurt to hear Cat agree with her.
"Let's see how this next run goes." Berg glanced between all of them. “One more shot, and then we will reassess.”
"Agreed." Cat and Joana said together.
"Agreed." Sara sat stiffly in her chair. She wouldn't break down. Not while in front of her crew. Voro had been correct. Their Vrak’rir had been the doom of her existence. She should have tossed him off her ship rather than hope for a bit more credits. This was what being greedy brought her. Now she had a looming Vrak’rir shadow.
Berg looked down at the pad in his hand. "Derek’s junkyard has come into view. The ship is guiding us in, but someone should get to the bridge."
"Good." Sara welcomed the distraction from her sad thoughts. "Get the crew organized. I want to be in and out."
They'd sell whatever they could within an hour, make enough credits to keep going, and then be out. An hour should give them enough time to make some credits before they found themselves on the move again. It also meant they might not be able to come back here again.
Sara felt certain Ak’kel might place men where ever she stopped in hopes to catch her if she ever came back. And she wasn’t about to make that mistake.
"I'll be in the bay." Sara said rising from her seat. She wanted to say goodbye to Derek in person since she might never be able to come back to his junkyard.
Everyone else rose from the table and they each headed off to different sections of the ship as they prepared to stop at the junkyard. She worked her way down to the bay, bracing herself when she felt the ship shake as it docked with Derek’s small space station.
By the time she arrived at the docking bay, Derek’s junkyard crewmen were already sifting through the junk on board.
"Hey." Sara waved at Derek where he stood overseeing his men.
"Hey." Derek responded with grin that slowly faded when he noticed her sad expression. His brow furrowed. “What’s going on with you? Normally, you look happier to see me. I pay for you junk fairly. Always have.”
Sara rolled her eyes. “That you do. It’s nothing with you. Got a Vrak’rir problem." She grimaced. "Turns out, I am his mate."
Derek stumbled back a couple of steps. "Wow. Didn’t expect you to say that."
“It’s Ak’kel. Heard of him?”
Derek whistled low. “Damn. That’s a spot of bad luck if I ever heard of one.”
"So far, we've been able to keep ahead of him, but we need to leave here within the hour so make sure your men work quickly. We need to earn as much as we can because we’re not sure how long we'll have to travel before we can make another stop."
"I'll keep the men going then." Derek's mouth pulled down at one corner. "Wish there was something more I could do for you."
"Ak’kel's men might come here." Sara warned.
"I can handle him." Derek wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a light reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry about ol’ Derek."
"You know," Sara eyed his bushy beard as a teasing smile formed on her lips, "since I might never see you again, I want to be honest with you. You might attract more women if you shaved that ugly thing. It ages you.”
Derek barked with laughter, tossing his head back. Then he brought a knuckle to the corner of his eye and brushed back a tear. "You wound me." He teased as he threw a hand to his heart.
Sara rolled her eyes. "Please Derek. You're one of the toughest cookies I know."
"Besides, Cat, you mean." Derek inclined his head slightly.
"Yeah, besides her. No one is as tough as Cat. Kind of surprised fate didn't match her with Ak’kel. Seems more fitting if you ask me."
Derek’s eyes dropped their playful light. "Do be careful, Sara. I assume you read up on him?"
"Yup." And to prove she had, she recited some news headlines about Ak’kel.
"Vrak'rir burns uncle alive. Ak'kel, the Vrak'rir who shot down a civilian space cruiser.
" Yeah, she'd read up on Ak’kel. Authorities seemed to agree on one thing and that was that they had no clue as to how many people he may have killed.
“Have you thought…” He shook his head. “Never mind. I just came up with the stupidest idea.”
Sara cocked her head. “What is it?”
“Well,” Derek rubbed a hand across his face, “have you ever thought that reaching out to Haldon might be an idea? I hear those two are always at each other’s throats. It might get Ak’kel off her tail, at least for a time. Give you a chance to get away.”
“The enemy of my enemy.” Sara shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about it, but I’m not sure how I can reach Haldon.”
“Maybe if you hear of someone with a contact, you can think about it.”
“Maybe.” Sara agreed. But did she really need to be dealing with yet another mad Vrak’rir? One was enough for her.
"Well, be safe." Derek patted her on the shoulder before turning to his men. With a loud clap of his hands, he joined them in sorting through the rest of the junk. "We have less than an hour boys! Let's see what we can't buy off, Miss Sara."
Miss Sara. She rolled her eyes. The name made her sound so innocent and young.
Which she was not. She wasn't as bad as Ak’kel, but she'd killed people when needed.
She'd given the order plenty of times to destroy a ship.
Normally they were attacked first but there'd be a couple of times she'd started a firefight.
Derek sifted through as much as he could and by the time the hour was up, Sara walked away with a few more credits to their name.
It wasn't a whole lot, but it was better than nothing.
And even though she got the feeling Derek may have slipped a few extra credits in there, she didn't say anything.
She and her crew would need them so who was she to say no.
And now they ran.
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The space junkyard came into view, stretched out in front of them. A twirling maze of twisted metal and spacecraft parts. Ak’kel’s eyes narrowed on the scene before them as a scowl darkened his features.
"Is the ship here?" He asked.
One of his men leaned over their console examining the readouts. "Negative, but they can't be too far ahead of us. We detected their engine signature.”
"Then let's make this quick then." Ak'kel growled, clenching his jaw as his claws itched to dig into someone. Anyone. "I want to find my runaway mate."
"We could bypass this junk yard and try to surmise where she's gone." One of his men suggested.
"No." Ak’kel shook his head after a cold glance at his man. "I'd rather stay here to interrogate the shipyard workers. We have better chance of finding her next stop from this junkyard than chasing her blindly around the vastness that is space."
"I agree." His second, Drax, stepped forward. "From the data you downloaded from her ship, she appears to be a frequent visitor here. They may have a good idea of where she goes from here."
A surge of satisfaction flickered through Ak’kel at the prospect of capturing his unwilling mate.
The idea of her being so close yet so far away irritated him more than he wanted to admit.
Why did mates have to be so stubborn? If she'd been a Vrak’rir, she’d have tackled him to the ground, her lush body pressing up against his rock hard one, and then she’d have guided his cock inside her.
Humans sadly didn't react that way. They needed… courtship, or so said his mate.