Chapter 15 #2
The door panel accepted her palm print with a soft beep, and she slipped through the gap before it fully opened. The corridor beyond it was empty, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
Hurrying away down the corridors, she made sure to keep close to the walls, hoping that her dark clothes blended with the shadows. Silently, she counted the section markers as she passed them.
She passed a patrol at the next intersection.
Two warriors, armed, filling the corridor with the sheer bulk of them.
Her pulse jumped, but she didn’t break stride.
They glanced at her, a human female in everyday clothes, and just as instantly dismissed her.
Without her guards and the fancy gowns, she wasn’t the Emperor’s mate-to-be.
She was just another soft thing moving through their world.
The comm screen showed the route. Left at the junction. Down two levels via the maintenance lift. Through a cargo processing area. Past the sealed bulkheads into another sector.
The maintenance lift groaned when she pressed the call button, and she flinched so hard she nearly bit through her lip. The doors opened on a car that smelled of grease and stale air. Stepping in, she hit the button for Deck Twelve, which held cargo bay 4, and pressed her back against the wall.
Her reflection stared at her from the scratched surface, and she winced. She looked like a ghost of herself.
Good, she thought. Ghosts didn’t leave footprints.
The lift deposited her in a corridor that was colder than the levels above.
The lights here were spaced further apart and more industrial, leaving long stretches of shadow between pools of sickly yellow.
The air tasted stale, either recycled too many times or not at all.
The irregular tick of cooling pipes and the distant, echoing drip of condensation filled the air.
Cargo Bay 4 was at the end of the corridor. The doors were massive, industrial loading doors meant for freight, not people, and they stood half-open, a gap between them wide enough to walk through.
She paused. If she did this, there was no going back.
The air washing through the gap was colder still, carrying the sharp smell of engine fuel.
The bay beyond was dark, lit only by a handful of emergency floor strips that cast everything in dim red.
This was it. The pilot would be in there, and the ship that was her ticket off this station and out of the Emperor’s life… and Raaevik’s.
No, she didn’t want to think of that. Pressing her nails into her palms, she used the little bite of pain to focus her.
Do it. Walk in. Get on the ship. Don’t look back.
She stepped through the gap.
The cargo bay was huge with crates stacked high against the walls, creating a maze of alleyways. In the center of the open floor, a small, sleek shuttle sat waiting. Its engines hummed, a low vibration that rattled in her teeth.
Lucy stood near the shuttle’s ramp, arms wrapped around herself. Her red hair caught the dim lighting like a flame.
“Lucy!” Emily called out, relief flooding through her so intense it almost buckled her knees. She hurried forward, her footsteps echoing on the metal deck. “I made it. I’m here.”
Lucy turned, but her face was wrong. All wrong. She wasn’t smiling. Instead, she looked terrified, utterly terrified. Then she burst into tears.
Emily faltered, her steps slowing. “Lucy? What’s wrong? Is it the timeline? Are we late?”
“I’m sorry.” Lucy’s voice cracked. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, rocking slightly. “I’m so so sorry, Emily. I didn’t have a choice.”
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The cold in the bay felt biting now. Malicious.
“What do you mean?” She stopped ten feet away. “Lucy, what’s going on?”
Shadows detached themselves from the darkness behind the shuttle, and she whirled around, her eyes widening.
There were four warriors. All massive, all heavily armed, and she knew at a glance that they weren’t Imperial.
They wore armor rather than the leather she was used to, and their faces were covered by full helmets that reflected nothing but the harsh overhead lights.
Moving with predatory grace, they surrounded her.
She took a step back.
“Lucy?”
“They have my sister,” Lucy whispered, tears streaming down her face. “They said if I didn’t bring you... They said they’d kill her.”
Emily gasped. This wasn’t a rescue. It was a kidnapping.
“How touching,” a smooth voice drawled from the shuttle ramp.
A Latharian male stepped out. He was tall and lean, with hair as black as an oil slick and eyes the color of burning oranges.
He wasn’t wearing armor, but a long coat that swirled around his ankles over a dark shirt and pants.
He looked at Emily the way a butcher looks at a prime cut of meat… assessing, cold, and devoid of empathy.
“The bond of human friendship,” he said, descending the ramp. “So easily leveraged. So predictable.”
Run. She had to run.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“I am Korrait.” He stopped a few feet from Lucy, ignoring the sobbing woman entirely. His gaze was fixed on Emily. “And you, my dear, are the key to our salvation.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She took another step back, her eyes darting to the blast doors. Fifty feet away. Shit, too far. “The Emperor will hunt you down. My guard will—”
“Let them hunt. By the time they realize what has happened, it will be too late.” Korrait shrugged and smiled. It was a terrifying expression, sharp and humorless. “The Emperor’s breeding stock really shouldn’t be wandering the corridors alone. It’s dangerous.”
Breeding stock. What the fuck?
He took a step toward her, and the soldiers moved with him, tightening the semicircle.
“The Empire is sick,” he continued, his voice dropping to a purr. “Diluted by these alliances. By mating with lesser species. We intend to cure it. And you,” He gestured at her. “Are going to be the delivery system.”
Not happening.
Between one heartbeat and the next, she made her decision and bolted. She dodged between two of the armoured goons and raced for the door.
“Secure her,” Korrait said. He sounded bored.
Fifteen meters. Ten.
If she could get out, she could hide in the maze of the lower decks. Raaevik would see the note. He would come. He would find her.
The heavy thud of boots sounded behind her. She gasped. Shit, they were fast. Too fast.
Then something slammed into her back, and the air left her lungs in a rush. She hit the deck hard, her chin cracking against the metal, and stars exploded behind her eyes.
Before she could draw a breath, hard hands were on her. They were rough but efficient. One grabbed her hair, yanking her head back as another pinned her arms.
“Get off me!” she shrieked, kicking out blindly. Her heel connected with armor, jarring her entire leg. “Raaevik! RAAEVIK!”
“Hold still, you little draanthic bitch, he can’t hear you,” the warrior holding her snarled.
They hauled her to her feet, but her legs wouldn’t hold her. She sagged, dead weight, as they dragged her back toward the shuttle, her feet scraping along the floor.
Lucy was still standing there, weeping, her hands over her mouth. She watched them drag Emily past, her eyes wide with horror and guilt.
“You promised!” Lucy wailed at Korrait. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt her!”
Korrait paused on the ramp, looking back at the crying woman with disgust.
“I promised she would serve a greater purpose,” he said. “And she will.”
He nodded to the remaining guards. “Bring the other one, too. Loose ends are untidy.”
Lucy’s scream was cut short as a warrior grabbed her.
Emily fought. She really did. She twisted and kicked out. Sinking her teeth into a gloved hand, she tasted leather and sweat. The warrior grunted and backhanded her, a blow that snapped her head to the side and filled her mouth with blood as the world spun.
They reached the ramp. The interior of the shuttle was dark, a gaping maw.
“No,” she sobbed, the fight draining out of her as they shoved her further up the ramp. “Please. No. Raaevik!”
She screamed his name, a raw, tearing sound that echoed off the walls of the cargo bay as the ramp sealed with a final, booming thud.
Her struggles didn't buy her a damn thing. They hurled her inside like a sack of dirty laundry.
"Pathetic," one of them sneered, laughing as she hit the deck hard enough to rattle her teeth. She scrambled for traction, nails tearing at the metal as she tried to launch herself back toward the opening, but a heavy boot slammed into her spine and pinned her flat.
Lucy landed in a heap nearby, still wailing, but Emily ignored her. Twisting and snarling, she caught the guard raising his weapon out of the corner of her eye.
"Sleep," he grunted.
The rifle butt cracked against her temple. Pain exploded, blinding and absolute. The world dissolved into blackness, the hiss of the sealing ramp the last thing to fade.