Chapter 29 Disco Ball
DISCO BALL
AMARA
“AND YOU’RE SURE it’ll fit in your greaves?
” I ask as I turn and walk across the cell again, already sweating in the heat of mid-morning.
The skin beneath my arms burns from the scratchy fabric of the bed-sheet I’m wearing as a toga, but every time I look at my nurse’s uniform, I can’t bring myself to put it on.
“I am certain,” Vexar answers.
“And Marius? You’re sure he can get the ship to us?”
“Yes. He is the only person with access.”
I scratch my forehead. “And you trust him?”
“With my life.”
We’ve been over this plenty of times, but I need a final rehearsal. Some training you can’t unlearn.
I run through my mental checklist one last time.
The message for Roveen has been updated.
We’ve practiced our ‘mission-abort’ signal, and we have an escape plan if needed—sort of.
We both know our individual objectives and our mission objective.
We’ve covered priorities, capabilities, time-frames, weather, and pretty much everything else we could think of.
And Vexar has drilled into me the rules of engagement—no killing, no fighting, no snarky comments.
I swear, it’s like he thinks I’m some sort of feral gremlin.
My teeth work over my bottom lip as my brain tries to find any remaining gaps in our plan. “And you’re certain you can win?”
“As certain as I am that there is air in my lungs.”
A sharp pain shoots through my lip, and I hiss. My fingers come back from my mouth bloody. I bit myself. “Shit.”
Vexar’s already standing, cupping my face and tilting my head to get a better look at the damage.
“It’s fine,” I say, as he examines me. “I’m just nervous.”
He nods and rubs his thumb gently over my lower lip. “We are almost there.”
My eyes trace the sharp rise of his cheekbones and the deep shadows they cast. His unearthly beauty is hard to look away from.
I drag a finger down the scar that bisects the right side of his face, trying to remind myself that he might not be happy about killing, but I’m pretty sure he’s good at it.
If nothing else, I think I can trust him to survive.
His body goes rigid, and my hand stills on his cheek. “They’re coming,” he says.
I don’t get a chance to ask him how he knows because his mouth is already on mine, kissing me with a desperation that makes my chest ache and the pain in my lip fade. This is it. This is goodbye.
I pull back just enough to whisper, “Don’t lose.”
His brows dip in a look of pure determination, and he says, “I will never leave you,” before descending on my mouth again like it’s the last thing we will ever do.
I’m nearly in tears when he breaks away and says, “I am with you until the very end.”
“Until the very end,” I whisper back.
The screech of metal fills the room, and a flash of bright light follows. My body jolts. Heart leaps into my throat. Adrenaline pours into my system.
“Stand back!” a voice yells, but the sound is distant. Miles away.
I drop into a squat and grip my knees to my chest. Everything’s ok.
You’re ok. I have to calm down. I can’t have a flashback right now.
Just breathe. Breath. I suck down heavy gulps of air, feeling my chest tighten with each inhale.
It’s not working. Fog clouds my vision. The sharp smell of metal fills my nose. No, no, no.
There’s a tug at the back of my mind, and the cell rushes back into focus. I nearly vomit from the rapid change as I fall forward onto my hands and knees, gasping for breath. Fucking hell.
I turn my eyes up to Vexar’s looming form, standing between me and the guards. Somehow, he pulled me out of a flashback. I don’t know how he did it, but that was definitely him.
I shake my head, trying to clear the remnants of the adrenaline dump. My mouth is dry. Limbs heavy. Stomach roiling. But I’m here. Fully present and in control. Time to get up.
The guards say something else, but Vexar’s ominous growl drowns it out. A fresh pulse of fear chills me. I scramble to my feet, grabbing the edge of the table for stability while trying to gauge Vexar’s state of mind. If his eyes are black, we’re completely fucked.
“Vexar, you must come with me,” someone says as I urge my body to cooperate and move.
Vexar responds in a calm but commanding tone. “Close the door and give us a moment.”
Calm. He’s calm. Holy shit. I grab my chest where my heart is rattling against my ribcage. He’s still in control. His eyes aren’t black. He’s just being intentionally intimidating.
God damn, he’s good at being scary.
“I h-have to t-take you now,” the voice says, and I finally recognize who it is. The lizard. The traitorous bastard who duped me and locked me in here.
Waves of raw, primal energy radiate from Vexar, and I’m shocked the lizard hasn’t turned tail and run. Either he has balls of steel, or the threat of not getting Vexar out of this cell is more terrifying than Vexar himself. My stomach drops at that thought, but I shake it off. There’s no way.
“Amara,” Vexar says, his voice gentle but stern, “dress.”
Shit. I’m still wearing a bed sheet.
Regretting waiting until the last second, I grab my nurse’s uniform and throw it over my head, dropping the toga in the process. Thankfully, I’m already wearing shoes.
“Vexar,” the lizard warns.
“Give. Her. A. Minute,” Vexar growls loud enough that dust falls from the ceiling. Why is scary-Vexar so hot? And why am I even capable of thinking about that right now?
Fully dressed, I step up behind my hulking alien.
He spins to face me, and I almost touch him before remembering our plan and clasping my hands behind my back.
“Trust me,” he mouths silently, before turning and walking out the door.
I’m immediately brought to an upper level of the Coliseum by a guard wearing a breather mask that covers his entire face.
I expected to be left in Vexar’s cell—at least until his meeting with Gaius was over—but that’s not what’s happening, and I don’t know what that means.
Vexar was nearly certain I would be left in there until he’d finished his negotiations.
Then again, we knew there would be variables. This must just be one of them.
Sempre gumby, and all that.
We reach a door, and the guard shoves me through it with a grunt. The force is so unexpected that I almost fall and have to run a few steps to catch myself. “Dick,” I mutter as he slams the door shut behind me.
I’m hit with an overwhelming scent—something between jasmine and eucalyptus—and a thick, wet heat that settles in my lungs. My eyes go wide as I take in the room.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mumble.
The room is circular and grotesquely opulent, unlike anything I’ve seen in the Coliseum.
Floor-to-ceiling mirrors wrapped in gold filigree cover the curved walls.
A strange chandelier hangs from the ceiling, dripping with thousands of tiny, reflective beads that tinkle as they spin and collide.
And, at the center of it all, there’s a steaming pool of water, surrounded by smooth stones.
It’s a bathroom. I’m in a fucking bathroom.
I shake my head at the wrongness. There’s no way Vexar’s had time to strike a deal with Gaius. It’s been like five minutes. So why am I in a bathroom?
My crimes should land me in the arena. That’s the penalty for breaking a law. When I was pulled from Vexar’s cell, I assumed I was being taken directly to a weapons room or something. That’s where I should be. But I’m not. I’m in a bathroom, and I’m pretty sure I don’t need to be clean to die.
I bite my lip and wince as my teeth find the raw spot I bit earlier.
I don’t like how far things have already deviated from the plan, but I can still feel Vexar’s calm confidence, and that helps settle my nerves.
Unless things go completely FUBAR, I’m not giving him the signal.
If we fuck this up, we lose our chance at fixing things, and I can’t live with that.
Steeling myself, I step further into the room and nearly jump out of my skin as a hundred different angles of my face turn to look at me. Holy fucking mirrors.
I move towards the wall and frown at the nearly unrecognizable woman staring back.
Pale skin. An unkempt mess of dark hair that reaches my mid-back.
Deep, bruise-like circles beneath my eyes.
Good god, I knew this place was taking a toll on me, but I didn’t think the physical evidence would be so …
shocking. I look sick. And hungry. I squeeze one of my nonexistent biceps and frown.
A lifetime of work gone in a single year. Fuck this place.
The distant sound of voices pulls my attention as a mirror on the opposite side of the room swings inward.
Two beautiful, towering women with dark blue skin slink through the doorway, their feet silent on the smooth tile floor.
The women’s slender frames and long legs carry them to me in just a few strides.
I’m expecting some sort of conversation, but instead, the taller one reaches out and grabs the shoulder of my uniform.
“Whoa,” I say, brushing her hand away. “What’s thi—” The other woman grabs at my dress next, clearly ignoring my protests. I duck out of her grip and step back. “What the hell?”
The taller one pulls her hands to her chest, making herself appear smaller, and whispers, “Please.” Her eyes are wide with the kind of terror I know all too well, and my ears start to ring as I take in the rest of her appearance.
There’s a deep purple bruise on her arm and another on her neck.
She’s favoring one of her legs. And she’s missing a finger on her right hand.
“Fucking hell,” I mumble, rubbing my forehead.
It’s clear they’re both terrified, and I don’t want them to face repercussions for my failure to comply. More than that, I don’t want to give Gaius another reason to be the sadistic fuck he clearly is. So, I nod and say, “It’s fine. Do what you came to do.”
As they disrobe me, the muscles in my jaw tense so hard my teeth start to ache.
None of this is ok, and I hate it. Somehow, I got the golden ticket out of here while these women have to stay in hell.
I want to tell them that I’ll come back for them, that they just need to hang on a little longer, but I can’t.
I can’t say anything. I just have to hope they’re still alive at that point.
My thoughts wander to Roveen, and I feel sick.
I don’t want to leave her behind. She’s going to think I’m dead, and unless she finds my message, she’ll have no idea what happened.
This isn’t how I thought I would feel about leaving.
I expected relief and excitement, but all I feel is dread.
Dread and a deep fear that if today doesn’t go perfectly, no one will be leaving this place at all.
Before I’m led into the bath, I remove the bandage from my knee and set it on a nearby stone. When I’m in the pool, I double-check that we’re alone and whisper, “Do either of you know why I’m here?”
They answer me with wide eyes that quickly dart away.
Clearly, they aren’t supposed to talk. So, while they work on my hair, I focus on channeling my anger towards the two people responsible for all of this.
Gaius and Vexar’s mother. Gaius’s retribution will come at my hand, and when that day comes, Gaius will know the devil has come to collect his fucking soul.
As far as Vexar’s mother goes, she’s already dead, and all she left behind is her legacy.
A legacy that I’ll make sure is burned to the ground.
These women may not have a Prince Charming, but they have me. And I’ll stop at nothing until I see them freed.
A few minutes later, I’m left standing naked, confused, and clean as the two women exit the room.
They took my uniform, but they left the bandage.
Carefully, I re-wrap my knee and wait with my arms crossed and a scowl on my face.
It feels like an eternity, but eventually another woman enters with what looks like a garment bag draped over one of her four arms. Her pale gray skin glistens in the low light under a beaded dress that hugs her wide, muscled torso and leaves nothing to the imagination.
Quite the outfit.
She stalks forward and proceeds to appraise me like livestock, inspecting every inch of my naked body, lifting my arms, tugging my hair, and then staring at the bandage on my knee. I can’t read her expression, but when she reaches for the dirty gauze, I take a step back.
“Leave it,” I say loudly.
She doesn’t reply, but she also doesn’t reach for it again.
A few minutes later, I’m dressed in an outfit that is uncomfortably similar to the one she’s wearing.
A beaded top and skirt. Revealing and impractical.
The last thing she does is wrap a thin, gossamer skirt high around my waist. If the extra layer is meant to add additional coverage, it’s failing miserably.
“What about shoes?” I ask before she leaves.
She turns, face unreadable, and shakes her head.
Fuck.
For the past year, I’ve been going through a pair of shoes a month because of the shit floors here, and now I’m supposed to go barefoot? This is clearly intentional, and whoever made the call to rob me of my shoes is a dick. My feet are going to be destroyed if I have to walk around like this.
Trying to shake off the surge of anxiety, I pace and come to terms with my situation. I don’t have any control over what happens to my feet, so there’s no point in freaking out about it. I just have to embrace the suck, keep my head down, and survive.
As I pace, my reflection catches my attention, and I let out a deep groan. I look like a disco ball. A mostly-naked disco ball. This was not part of our risk assessment. Even in the dim light of the bathroom, I sparkle and glint like a giant “Shoot Here” sign.
At this point, it’s clear we aren’t the only ones with a plan, and I don’t like that at all.