Chapter 17 #2
I bared my teeth, growling, because it had become second nature.
It made her smile like she thought I was funny, so I doubled down.
“So? That doesn’t mean we know each other.
You’re not of the Shadow Unit. They don’t take women.
” That was a hard fact. There were no female Shadow Unit soldiers, and since we were a branch of the military that technically didn’t exist, there was no one to tell us to change that policy.
I didn’t care one way or another. The whole unit could burn in hell for all I cared.
She rolled her eyes, then patted her mate on the arm like she was calming him.
He hadn’t changed how he walked, had not so much as twitched a muscle, but I had a feeling she’d known, correctly, that he was pissed.
My hands twitched and clenched into tight fists, and beneath my skin the metal that had fused with my bones and strengthened them seemed to itch.
He wouldn’t know what hit him if he tried to strike; I’d claw straight through his armor and shred his thin skin.
“Well, I came here on the Praetor, and I’m willing to bet you did, too.
That’s probably why we look familiar to one another.
” Damn it. She was right. How was it possible that, out of all the random humans who’d gotten lost in the Zeta Quadrant, these gladiators had picked up a stray space marine from the very ship that had brought me here, stranded me, and betrayed me?
Her smile was part satisfaction and a whole lot of amusement.
“I’m right, aren’t I? You did come here on the Praetor.
We must have crossed paths in one of its hallways at one point…
” She turned around, casually walking backward, and offered me a hand to shake.
“Camilla Hernandez. Nice to meet you.” I scoffed.
Nice to meet me? Was she crazy? I was about as far from nice as one could get, but then, clearly, so was her mate, and she was crazy enough to take him on.
“Maybe,” I agreed, then realized that Flack was staring too.
I was always close-lipped about my past, but for the right price that bastard would trade just about anything, information included.
He was drinking this whole convo up like it was Christmas morning and Santa had come early.
Then again, what did it hurt anyway? There was nothing about my past that would really surprise any of the guys on the Varakartoom.
They were mercenaries with as many—well, perhaps not as many—disreputable acts shaping their history as I had.
“I was assigned to the Praetor to make sure nobody made a fuss about the human barter in stasis,” I ended up admitting.
I eyed Camilla and smirked. “Nobodies like you.” She opened her mouth, probably to tell me I’d failed at my task because she was still here.
Not just that, the Kertinal Empire had taken control of the Praetor and freed its cargo of UAR “livestock.” “Except the Praetor’s captain didn’t like having me around, and he betrayed my ass the moment he lined up a buyer.
” I swatted a hand toward the skies. “Batok. So yes, I was the human your friends rescued from that mining planet. And yes, we probably crossed paths on the ship once or twice.”
She blinked, as if I’d caught her by surprise.
“Would you have done it?” she asked. I pretended I didn’t know what she was asking, and also pretended the fierce frown she pulled out did not remind me of Ysa.
“Would you have killed a nobody like me so the UAR could sell off the humans in stasis like cattle?” Her dark eyes were polite, curious.
I was pretty sure she expected me to say no, because she was clearly used to dealing with males of moral integrity.
My eyes flicked from her to her male. The Elrohirian had given up pretending he wasn’t waiting for me to attack like a rabid dog.
His hands held two long, silver knives; his scowl was so angry it would have made a man with more heart than me back up in an instant.
He wasn’t the only one watching, waiting for the answer.
So was Flack, so were Ysa’s boys, and so was the Ferai beast, with bared fangs, that one.
The only one who seemed oblivious was the Vagabond’s tracker.
He was hunched low to the ground, peering at tracks before altering our course.
I didn’t kid myself into thinking he wasn’t ready to strike with the axe on his back in defense of his crewmate.
“Yes,” I said, deadpan, as I turned my gaze back on Camilla.
“I would have killed you in a heartbeat.” It was the truth, and while I did feel the faintest pang of guilt over admitting that, it didn’t change a thing.
I’d been a numb killing machine even then, and the only difference between then and now was that I wouldn’t—because I knew Ysa wouldn’t want me to.
Right or wrong, I was so far removed from it that following a mission was my way through life.
The UAR’s missions, the Shadow Unit’s missions, and now Asmoded’s missions.
Following Ysa’s heart was the only way I knew I wasn’t truly evil, but it was close.
Without either of them, I could very well be exactly like this Eric we were hunting right now.
Ysa didn’t believe that, but I knew it was true.
“Well, at least he’s honest, right?” Flack said, joking to ease the tension that filled the air.
“We are not here to hunt my compassless crewmale, though. So let’s all stay focused on the true goal.
” Flack didn’t need to try to smooth things over on my account, but I didn’t comment, just fell back into step at the rear of the group.
She asked, I answered, it was as simple as that.
Except it wasn’t, because if that had been Ysa, would I have been that truthful?
Or would I have felt ashamed to admit it?