Taken By Terror by Lolita Lopez

Chapter Twenty-Four

She glanced at the roof but couldn’t see Terror. For a moment, she considered grabbing one of the smaller broken stones littering the floor around her and throwing it at the roof to get his attention. If she missed, the stone would make noise as it clattered to the ground. Drawing attention would be too dangerous.

Knowing she had to get to Terror to warn him they weren’t alone, she crept away from the wall and turned toward the staircase. She tucked the files under her jacket and into the waistband of her pants, covering them with the back of her shirt. Weapon in hand, she crept down the stairs, paying extra attention to the shadows and scanning constantly for enemies.

When she reached the second-floor landing, Maisie felt a strange sensation of awareness. The fine hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she realized there was someone behind her. A split-second later, a large hand cruelly grabbed her upper arm and stripped away her weapon. She reacted defensively, swinging out her elbow and twisting her arm back while kicking out at her assailant.

He was so much stronger and taller. The blond giant used his leverage to subdue her. Refusing to be captured by this brute, she took a page out of Terror’s fighting handbook and chomped down on his exposed hand, biting so hard she felt the burst of blood on her tongue. He tried to pop her with his other fist, but she managed to duck at the right moment. The sharp movement caused her teeth to tear through his skin, and she could feel his roar of pain rumble through her chest.

She opened her jaws and spit out the blood coating her tongue. He struck her this time, his open palm cracking her cheek so hard she fell backwards onto a pile of rubble. The sharp edges of the stone bit into her upper thigh and hip, and she grunted in pain. He caught her ankle, dragging her closer, and she grappled for a weapon, finally wrapping her fingers around a chunk of stone.

He yanked her off the ground, and she came up swinging, clutching the stone in her hand. She slammed it into his jaw, splitting the skin wide open and sending him reeling backwards toward the stairs. Dangerously close to the busted wall, he caught himself at the last moment and lurched for her. He stumbled as he caught hold of her jacket and swung her around forcefully. She tripped over his feet and threw him off-balance.

In a terrifying moment that seemed to unfurl in slow motion, his hands tightened on her jacket as their shared momentum caused him to fall out of the gaping hole in the wall. She didn’t stand a chance at breaking free from his grip. Her stomach dropped in a painful lurch as they fell out of the building and straight down onto the dangerous rubble littering the courtyard.

He hit first, and she landed on top of him. The impact drove the air out of her lungs, and she gasped panicked breaths to refill them. The jarring shock of falling two stories made her head pound. Her joints burned, and she mentally catalogued her bones to make sure none of them were broken.

Her assailant hadn’t been so lucky. He had landed on a pane of dirty, jagged glass that had sliced open the back of his neck all the way to the shoulder. Foaming blood bubbled out of his mouth and gushed out of the gruesome wound, soaking the rubble around him in crimson. She scrambled off of him, kicking aside the hand that clutched at her for help.

She swayed on her feet and stumbled forward to retrieve her weapon that had fallen near his feet. She bent down to grab it—and a boot slammed into her side. The force of the kick sent her airborne, and she landed on her belly on top of a slab of stone. Her hands shook as she tried to push up from the stone and get back to her feet.

Her new attacker snatched the back of her jacket and hauled her off the stone as if she weighed no more than a small child. Desperate to escape, she lifted her arms straight up over her head and started to wiggle free from the oversized jacket. A blast of cold air on her belly heralded her escape, and she slipped out of the jacket.

The second attacker was too quick. He grabbed her before she could get far and took hold of the back of her pants. He lifted her by the belt and waistband and carried her away from the dying man who had attacked her first. She tried to fight off the man holding onto her pants. She clawed at his arms and legs, but he was made of stronger stuff than the first man. He seemed determined to get her some place private.

She twisted and kicked her legs, and he threw her up and over his shoulder. She lost her breath at the sudden impact of his broad shoulder into her stomach, but as soon as she had regained it, she started to pummel his back and scratch at his neck. He ignored her attack and kept moving.

Desperate for help, she looked toward the roof. Her heart raced at the sight of Terror fighting off three men. He had lost his jacket already, and a blossoming blood stain spread along the side of his shirt. Oh, no. No. No. No.

Her kidnapper entered the building with the hidden ship. His long strides ate up the floor, and she began to feel queasy from being thrown over his shoulder. Falling out of a second story window hadn’t helped matters any. Determined not to disgrace herself by puking, she closed her eyes and waited for him to drop her somewhere.

When he did, it was rough and hard. She felt like a sack of potatoes thrown into a root cellar. Her bottom ached from the impact with the dirty, rocky floor, and she felt a searing zing of nerve pain race up her spine from the metal bar that was smashed between her back and the concrete. Shaking off the discomfort, she rolled to her knees to try to stand—and gasped at the horror presented to her.

Bloated and covered in flies, Kris stared back at her with filmy white eyes. The smell of his tortured corpse hit her in the face, and she scrambled backward like a crab to escape the stench. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the horrific damage done to his body. She wanted to scream at the inhumanity of it. Kris who had never been anything but kind to her didn’t deserve this.

Movement from the edge of her vision interrupted her pained thoughts. She turned and saw another body, this one dangling from its ankles. The body twisted slowly, and she covered her mouth in shock. It was Devious—and he was still alive!

Blood flowed freely from cuts on his back. His chest heaved with labored breaths. He moved his bound hands toward her, his broken fingers making futile attempts at signing. Only one of his eyes was open enough to see out of, and it was bloodshot. Still, she could tell he was begging her to run.

She tried. She got to her feet, but her kidnapper pushed her hard, causing her to fall back on her ass. A jolt of recognition cleared her head as she took in the silver-haired giant standing in front of her now. It was the man from the photo Keen had shown her back on the Valiant. The man who had grabbed her out of the courtyard and tossed her down in this dank, filthy space was her grandfather.

Flint gestured to his mouth. “Pay attention because I’m only going to say this one fucking time. Did you make copies of that chip?”

Gritting her teeth, she stared defiantly back at him and raised her right hand. She gestured toward him with her middle finger. “Fuck you.”

His nostrils flared. “I should have known you would be as aggravating as your mother.”

Not wanting to waste her energy trying to communicate with him, she gave him the finger again. She decided that it didn’t matter what he asked. She only had one answer. “Fuck you.”

“You think you’re cute with that bullshit?” he sneered. “You think dying here today is going to make any difference? Huh?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck me?” he snarled. “I thought that one-eyed asshole up on the roof was smart, but he’s just pussy whipped as every other man who has a chance to poke a virgin gash. He let you drag him into this fight when he could have just as easily destroyed the chip and fled to an independent territory. I would have let him—and you—live out your lives, but no. You two had to be heroes.”

His upper lip curled with disgust. “What a waste of a good man! Terror is one of the greatest soldiers we’ve ever created, and he betrayed everything we stand for because of you. And for what?” he demanded angrily. “You’re too late. You think exposing us is going to stop us?” He laughed harshly. “We are the Alliance. We’re embedded at every level of government. We’re on every ship, every base, every planet. By tonight, we’ll have won this war and wiped out the weakest among us.”

Even though he wouldn’t be able to understand a word she said, Maisie shook her head and told him exactly why he was wrong. “No, you won’t win this war. Terror is the greatest soldier you’ve ever created, and that’s exactly why he’s going to succeed up on that roof. He doesn’t know how to fail, and he never breaks his promises, not to me. Maybe we are going to die here, but I’m going to make damn sure you die first.”

She grabbed the heavy stone next to her hip and slammed it down on his foot with every bit of strength she had left in her body. He crumpled forward as the stone smashed his tender toes, and she smacked him right in the face with the sharp rock, tearing open his cheek and bloodying his lip and nose. Wanting to make sure she inflicted the most damage, she crunched his knee with the stone, swinging it with both hands. Crying out in rage, Flint backhanded her as he fell.

Seeing black for a brief moment, she fell sideways into the rubble. She grappled for something to hold onto so he couldn’t pull her back toward him. Her fingers grazed something cold and hard. A broken length of metal rod. She curled her fingers around it as Flint flipped her over and dragged her toward him.

She sat up, her battered abdominal muscles screaming at the movement, and stabbed the metal rod right into his ear. The rod hit its mark, sinking deep into his ear canal. She felt his eardrum give and pushed even harder until she felt the sickening squish of something soft at the other end of the rod. Flint’s face contorted, and his limbs flopped wildly. His body slackened, and she scurried to escape as he crumpled like paper.

His body twitched as blood and fluid gushed around the rod buried in his ear. Determined that he would never get up, she kicked the rod as deep as it would go with the heel of her boot. He seized and then relaxed into a lifeless heap of flesh. Panting and shaking, Maisie stared at her grandfather as the trauma of what she had just done hit hard.

She pushed aside her gruesome actions and managed to stand. She leaned heavily against the wall for a moment to catch her breath and give her aching body a chance to function. Across the room, Devious reached out to her with bound hands, and she forced her feet to move.

She sized up the situation and grabbed a knife that had been carelessly left on a nearby table. The handle and blade were stained with dried blood, and she wondered how many cuts it had made on Devious and Kris. Too many, she thought, as she dragged a chair closer to Devious and stepped onto it so she could reach the straps around his ankles.

She sawed at the thick material, gritting her teeth at the pain in her shoulders, and silently cursed the strength of the straps. Frustrated, she was on the verge of tears when movement in the doorway caught her attention. She tensed and shifted her weight on the chair, ready to attack with the knife gripped tightly in her hand.

Suddenly, Terror appeared. He had a terrible wound on his side, and his face was covered with splotches of blood from other men. His nose seemed a bit wonky, and his left thigh had a gash in it. He looked like hell, but he was alive.

“Maisie!” He rushed toward her, his frantic gaze taking in the violent aftermath surrounding her. He snatched her right off the chair, crushing her in his arms before he set her down on her feet. He cupped her face in both hands and crashed his busted mouth to hers.

In that moment, she didn’t care that he tasted of blood and sweat. She only cared that he was alive. She clung to him with her free hand, desperate to reassure herself as he kissed her with such passion it left her trembling.

Terror pulled away from her mouth and kissed her forehead. He shifted her aside and took the knife from her hand. With a quick hop, he was up on the chair and expertly slashed away the straps. He did it so fast that Maisie didn’t have time to step forward to brace Devious. He fell to the ground with so much force a cloud of dust billowed around him.

Maisie shot a perturbed look at Terror before crouching down to help Devious. It took both of them to get Devious on his feet. He had been weakened by torture and malnutrition. There was no way he was getting himself out of the building or into a ship.

Speaking of ships, Maisie looked to Terror. He had lost his glasses and wouldn’t be able to understand every word she signed. They seemed to be having the same thought as he said, “Our ship is too small for three people.”

She nodded and pointed to an area directly across the building. She mimicked a flying aircraft with her hand, hoping he would understand. He did, and they dragged Devious toward the ship she had seen earlier. It was bigger than she had expected, at least three times as long and four times as wide. Not only did it offer more space, it was equipped with defensive and offensive firing systems and a hyperdrive.

Maisie helped Devious into a seat and buckled him in before holding up two hands to Terror. “Please, wait. I have to get something I left.”

He frowned at her frantically moving hands. “Wait? For what?”

“Just wait,” she said, lifting both hands again. “I’ll be right back.”

“Maisie!” He tried to catch her wrist, but she evaded him and hopped out of the ship.

Every breath was agony as she ran away from the ship and out into the courtyard where she had fallen. She scanned the area around the dead Splinter guard and found the folders flapping in the wind. A few pieces of paper had escaped, and she picked them up and stuffed them back inside the folders. There were splashes of blood on many of them, and she grimaced at the ugly memories that would follow her.

Folders in hand, she darted back to the ship and clambered inside. After securing the door, she rushed to the cockpit where Terror had already fired the ship to life. He was checking the fuel cell situation and glanced at her with consternation. She held up the folders and then tucked them between her back and the seat.

“Navigation,” he said, gesturing to the screen in front of her.

She tapped at the screen and widened the field around them. She gulped at the beacons of fast approaching ships. Tapping his arm, she got his attention. “Look.”

He swore something truly foul. “Buckle up. We’re going out hot.”

She nodded and glanced back at Devious who had passed out completely. Terror must have tightened his harness because he was held securely against his seat despite his drooping head.

Terror wasn’t kidding. As soon as he cleared the building by ascending vertically, he punched the power. She was thrown back against her seat and grunted at the intense pressure exerted on her body. Terror seemed unfazed. His entire focus was on piloting the ship and getting them off the planet and into space as fast as possible.

He looked at her, making sure she could read his lips. “Engage hyperdrive.”

She nodded and shifted in her seat to reach the levers and buttons she needed. Her stepfather might have been a jerk, but at least he had ensured she learned to pilot a wide variety of craft. She didn’t hesitate as her fingers moved across the console to prepare the ship to make a jump through space.

Except two of the three hyperdrive fuel cells were critically low.

She caught Terror’s gaze and held up one finger. Somber, he nodded with understanding. There was only enough fuel capacity for one hyperdrive jump and not a very far one at that. It would get them clear of the ships racing to intersect them now, but they had to worry about what was waiting on the other side.

Certain their best chance of survival was to get as close to Terror’s friends on the Valiant as possible, she dialed in that sector. The computer gave a warning. There wasn’t enough fuel to make a jump that far. She chose the sector next to it and selected a quadrant directly abutting the area the Valiant patrolled. The ship’s onboard computer system accepted the new destination. It scanned for known debris and ship beacons in their intended jump zone and made the necessary adjustments.

The countdown to hyperdrive began. A pair of Splinter fighters appeared to their left. They began firing missiles. Terror arced their ship sharply down and then rolled to the left before turning into the path designated by the hyperdrive. He fired off four defensive bursts that sent the Splinter fighters scattering, but in the last seconds of countdown, their ship took a hit from one of the Splinter missiles. They lurched sideways just as space folded and stretched in front of them.

Worried they had been knocked far off course, Maisie gritted her teeth as her body protested the painful force of hyperspace travel. She braced herself on the seat and closed her eyes as the ship seemed to squeeze all around them. Time and space overlapped as the ship’s hyperdrive created a brief but stable wormhole to zip them from one point to another.

When they dropped out of hyperspace at the other end, their ship shuddered and suddenly lost power. Maisie shot a worried glance at Terror before unlatching her safety harness and getting out of her seat. She ignored the throbbing ache in her ribs and back as she hurried to the rear of the ship and slipped down the short access staircase to the mechanical compartment.

Smoke filled the small bay, and she flinched at the sparks flying off the overworked equipment. One entire panel had been crunched from the missile that had struck the ship. The third fuel cell, the one that had been completely full, had sustained serious damage from the missile, and the safety systems had deployed pressure sealant. Even so, the ship’s computer kept trying to suck power from the failed battery, sending sparks and risking a fire.

She found the manual override levers and shutdown the hyperdrive. She slapped the electrical fire suppression system button and covered her nose and mouth with her arm to avoid breathing in too much of the aerosolized chemicals. Across the mechanical compartment, the general power cells should have had plenty of juice to run the ship in normal mode, but when she checked their gauges, only one cell was active. It had a reading of less than fifteen percent.

She eyed the battery bank and traced the lines snaking out of it. She realized the general power cells were tied into the hyperdrive cells across the compartment for redundancy. When the hyperdrive’s last cell malfunctioned, power had been leeched from the general cells to complete the jump.

Shit.

After making sure the fire hazard was handled, Maisie climbed back up to the main deck. She paused as she passed Devious and put two fingers against his neck to check his pulse. It was shockingly even and only slightly weak. Confounded by his ability to survive this long, she hoped he had enough fight left in him to make it to rescue.

When she reached the cockpit, Maisie noticed Terror leaning heavily against the control panel. He had removed his safety harness and seemed to be struggling to breathe. She rushed to his side and crouched down next to him. Was it a collapsed lung? A sucking chest wound?

His skin was so hot. He was burning up with fever and leaned into her palm as she tried to judge his temperature. The blood loss worried her, and she pushed him back in his seat to triage his wounds.

When she lifted his torn shirt, a wave of nausea washed over her. His entire torso was covered in a blistering rash from the virus he had contracted. That wasn’t the worst of it, though. Black and green tendrils arched out from the bullet wound in his upper belly.

Panicked, she stared up at him. He nodded with resignation. “One of them fired off a shot. The round is lodged in there.” He grimaced. “I think they figured out the delivery system on those pronged rounds.”

Horrified, Maisie examined the wound on the front and back of his torso. He was correct. It hadn’t exited his body. When she pressed hard against the buried round, she could feel the prongs that had torn through his body. Even if she could dig out the round, she didn’t have the antidote necessary for whatever poison had been delivered with the bullet.

Terror touched her face. His hands were clammy and trembling. “I’m sorry, Maisie. I really didn’t think it would end like this.”

“Stop.” She angrily spoke the word with her unpracticed mouth. “It’s not over yet.”

He seemed to have understood maybe two or three words she had signed to him. His eye was glassy as he dragged his thumb along her jaw. “Take the escape pod. Get out of here while you can.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he insisted. “Save yourself. Please,” he begged, his eye drooping shut. “Do it for me. Go.”

All the strength left him, and he slumped forward. She caught him with both hands and guided him to the floor, groaning under his weight. Looking at him, his skin flushed and his clothes stained with blood, she panicked. Tears burned her eyes, and she fought off the hysteria that threatened to take hold.

Stop.

Think.

She gulped in a shaky breath and closed her eyes. What do I do? How do I save him?

A thought started to form, and she shoved to her feet. She switched on the navigation panel, sacrificing a small amount of their already meager power to find their location. Their ship appeared on the screen, and her knees went weak as she saw how off-course their hyperdrive jump had been. The missile that had hit their ship must have caused more than only one malfunction. They had jumped too far. That explained why the general power supply had been nearly drained. They had exceeded the range of the hyperdrive fuel cell by a huge amount.

But they were even closer to the Valiant than she had expected. If she could make contact, a rescue dart could reach them in less than two hours. A bigger ship with hyperdrive could reach them in minutes. She glanced down at Terror. If she raided every first aid kit she could find, it was possible she could keep him alive that long.

Maisie jumped into action, shutting down every single part of the ship that wasn’t necessary to sustain them. She considered running an umbilical from the escape pod to the main system but decided against it. If no help came, that pod would be their only chance. There was enough power left in the fuel cell to run the life support systems for five hours. They would have no navigation control, and it was going to get cold because their only heat source would be from the radiation shielding. It would be miserable, but they would survive it.

She flopped onto her backside and untied the knotted laces of the too big boots she had been wearing since the safe house. She tugged the boot off her foot and peeled away the insole to uncover the emergency beacon General Vicious had given her. She thanked every star in the universe that Terror’s best friend had given her the very thing she needed to save their lives.

She pried open the panel where the ship’s transponder was housed. She tugged the identification chip from its slot and threw it aside. She slipped the general’s beacon into the open slot and reset the transponder. She held her breath, waiting for the green light to blink.

When it finally did, she relaxed for a single second and then clambered to her feet. She searched the ship for first aid supplies and carried everything she found to the cockpit. Over the next hour, she worked to start IVs and administer medications to both men. The analog guide wasn’t as helpful as the onboard medical programs would have been, but she made do.

After receiving some fluids, Devious came to for a few minutes and squeezed her hand. “Maisie.”

“Don’t talk,” she urged and smiled reassuringly. “Help is coming.”

“No,” he said, trying to sign. “You have to run. Don’t stay here.”

“I can’t leave you or Terror. You’re both very sick.”

“They’ll kill you on sight.” He grimaced with discomfort. “I couldn’t save Kris. It all went wrong. Everything went wrong.”

“I know,” she said, trying to assuage his guilt. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Devious shuddered with pain. “Nothing that happened to you was ever okay. Your mom, my brother, Randy, Flint,” he listed off the people who should have protected her but didn’t. “Me,” he added angrily. “We all used you. You were just a tool we exploited.”

“Hush,” she said, starting to cry. “Please. It doesn’t matter now. I’m alive. I get to make my own choices now.”

“Go,” he urged. “Flee.”

“No.” She gently touched his hand. “It’s my choice to stay.”

Devious fell unconscious before he could argue with her. Not having the mental bandwidth to handle his rambling confession, she shoved aside his words for another time and got to her feet to check on Terror.

His fever continued to climb, and he started to tremble from the chill in the air. She rolled him onto his side to tuck an emergency blanket under him and then another over him. She had given him a cocktail of medications from the kit that were listed under the poison tab in the medical guide. She could only hope and pray they would work.

Feeling helpless, she sat with her back against the control console and placed Terror’s head in her lap. She combed her fingers through his dark hair and kept her other hand on his chest, feeling the thud of his heartbeat under her fingers. Sometimes, he shuddered and gasped. Her heart would fly into her throat as she waited for him to settle down again.

The future she had envisioned with him seemed to be slipping through her fingers. She clutched onto his shirt and silently willed him to fight. Please hold on, Terror. Don’t leave me. Not now. Not after everything we’ve survived together.

The minutes ticked by and turned into hours. She left the men briefly to descend into the energy bay to check the fuel cell. It was down to two percent. They had less than an hour of oxygen. The carbon dioxide scrubbers would give out before that which meant they were going to suffocate slowly.

Maisie returned to the cockpit and checked on Devious. He also had a fever now, not nearly as high as Terror’s but high enough that it worried her. She could feel his ragged breaths under her hand, and his heartbeat felt thready under her fingertips. He was decompensating and quickly.

Terror’s condition hadn’t changed much. He was still burning up with fever, and his skin was covered in the expanding rash and a sheen of sweat. The dark lines swirling out from his belly wound had stretched a few more inches across his torso and back. The gash in his thigh had clotted and the bandage seemed to be working well.

Not that any of that would matter when the life support systems failed. She might have been imagining it, but she thought it was harder to breathe. Her brain felt a little fuzzy, but whether that was from the rising level of carbon dioxide or the exhaustion sapping the life out of her, she couldn’t tell.

I have to get them into the pod. It’s our only chance. Not that it would be much of a chance. The pod would only have enough life support for maybe twelve hours with three people in it. It had been designed for two passengers at the maximum. Even if she could dial down the life support to the bare minimums, twelve hours with three people would be pushing it.

The ship suddenly shook violently. Maisie shifted Terror’s head from her lap and slowly climbed to her feet. She looked out of the cockpit window and swallowed anxiously at the much larger ship that had clamped onto their aircraft. It was part of the Alliance fleet, but it was possible the men onboard weren’t friendly.

Accepting that there was nothing she could do about that now, Maisie crouched next to Terror in a protective stance. She wished for a weapon, something, anything to defend herself and the men. With nothing available, she took hold of Terror’s limp hand and held tight.

The ship vibrated and shuddered as the larger ship connected a gangway. The escape hatch panel in the ceiling was wrenched open, and a heavy black bag was thrown into the cockpit. Seconds later, a man in a Sky Corps uniform dropped through the hole. He landed with the skill of a gymnast, and she almost cried with relief when she recognized him as the nice pilot from the rescue team Terror had organized for her.

Hazard, she remembered. His name was Hazard.

As soon as he caught sight of her, he put a finger to his mouth and then pointed to a storage compartment near the navigational console. He mouthed the word, “Hide.”

She didn’t have to be told twice. She scurried to the cabinet and squeezed herself into the space. For once, her small size was useful. The cabinet door was solid metal so she couldn’t see what was happening. Why had Hazard asked her to hide? What was going on? Should she not have trusted him?

After what felt like hours, the compartment door opened, and Hazard crouched down in front of her. He gestured for her to climb out. When she was on her feet again, she noticed Terror and Devious were gone. There was medical waste on the floor, wrappers from syringes and slick paper backings for the sticky sensors that gave readouts to the tablets medics carried.

Maisie grabbed her parents’ files from the chair where she had left them and prepared to evacuate the ship. She made it three steps before Hazard stopped her. She tried to shake off the gloved hand gripping her arm, but he was too strong. She met his burdened gaze and wondered what the hell was wrong now.

“You can’t come with us.”

“What? I’m not leaving Terror! I promised him!”

Hazard watched her hands move and apologetically shook his head. “I don’t know what any of that means.”

Frustrated, she gritted her teeth and tried not to scream. She pointed forcefully up toward the hatch. “I’m going.”

“No.” Hazard blocked her path. “You’re not.”

“Why?”

“Look,” Hazard gestured to his mouth. “You cannot come with us. There’s an order to shoot you on sight. Before you and Terror kicked up this shit storm with the Splinter memorial attack, we might have been able to keep you safe on the Valiant or hide you in a Shadow Force safe house. That’s not an option right now. The whole fucking galaxy is on fire. We’ve got mutineers taking over ships, and Splinter double agents blowing up our bases. The odds of me getting my ship back to the Valiant without a firefight are slim to none.” Exasperated, he raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, Maisie, but if you want to live, you have to go.”

She wanted to argue with him. She wanted to fight her way onto his ship. She wanted to do anything but leave Terror’s side.

But everything Hazard had explained was true. She was considered a terrorist under their laws. With the war now at a fever pitch, there would be no court, no inquiry, to prove her innocence. If she managed to not be shot by one of the men on Hazard’s ship or the Valiant, she would still end up in jail. Terror’s friends might try to fight for her, but they would be risking their own lives and their mates and families. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

If she was taken into custody, they would take her away to prison while Terror was recovering. She would get lost in the meat grinder of justice and end up taking a bullet somewhere on the edge of an Alliance prison yard. She’d probably be tortured, abused and raped before that.

The reality of her choices weighed heavy on her shoulders. She glanced at the hatch and then at the crippled ship. Completely sapped of all energy and unable to even consider fighting, she asked, “What do I do?”

Hazard may not have understood her word-for-word but he got the gist. “Take the escape pod. I had a good look at it before I clamped onto the ship. It’s intact and seems to be undamaged. It won’t get you far, but it will give you a chance to survive.”

He picked up the heavy bag he had dropped through the hatch first and held it out to her. She hefted the strap onto her shoulder and sagged under the weight of the bag. Hazard made sure she was looking at him before he explained, “This is from Vicious. He ordered me to get you on an escape pod and send you as far away from this shit as possible. There’s money in there. Clothing. Rations. Medical supplies.”

He shot a nervous glance at the hatch and pushed her out of the way. He walked over to the hole and called up through it, probably telling his crew that he was coming. He held up both hands and a neatly packaged explosive device was dropped into them.

Oh. That.

He gestured with his head toward the escape door in the floor of the cockpit. Holding up four fingers, he let her know that she would have four minutes before the explosion destroyed the ship. She would have to be careful about jettisoning herself too soon, otherwise the other pilot on Hazard’s ship would see her. Hopefully, the debris from the explosion would hide her long enough to make her escape successful.

With a final agonizing glance at the hatch, Maisie turned and fled toward the escape door. She wrenched it open and pushed the bag of supplies down the chute first. She followed right after and landed on her ass next to the escape pod. She climbed into the pod, stowed her bag and hastily disabled the tracking beacon on the small craft so none of Flint’s cohorts could find her. She glanced at her watch, calculated the time to jettison, and fired up the pod. The tiny ship flared to life, and she relaxed at the sight of all systems operational.

The ship’s onboard navigation asked for a destination. She briefly considered the planet Calyx. She was certain Fay would welcome her and keep her safe, but that was too high a burden to place on Fay’s family. It would be among the first place any bounty hunters hoping to catch her would look. Fay had saved her life, and she wasn’t going to repay her friend by bringing death to her doorstep.

Maisie asked the navigation system to show her the farthest option possible while keeping clear of Alliance airspace and known Splinter routes. It calculated the inputs and gave her two choices. She hadn’t ever heard of either of them. They were far away in another sector filled with independent territories and colonies. Her best chance to disappear was either one of those planets.

She picked one and set her course. Her eyes started to sting as she accepted that she would never see Terror again. If he lived—and by the stars she prayed he would—he would never be able to find her. She wiped at her eyes, angry at the way fate had fucked them both, and activated the jettison protocol.

She closed her eyes as the countdown to release began and gripped her safety harness in both hands. She pictured Terror next to her in bed, his boyish, playful grin making her feel warm and loved. She recalled the feel of his powerful hands on her body, and the way she slotted in so perfectly against his chest after they made love.

I love you.

She kept repeating the words in her mind as the pod dropped from its mothership.

I’m sorry.

She held the safety harness so tightly her fingers started to hurt. Somewhere above her, the explosives detonated and tore up the crippled ship. She felt the heat of the explosion on her face, and for a single moment, she wanted the destructive force and the flames to overwhelm her pod and end it all.

How many times had she told Terror she wouldn’t leave him? She had just betrayed his trust in the worst way. She had proven to him that she was weak and would run to save her own skin.

Forgive me, Terror.