Taken By Terror by Lolita Lopez

Chapter Twenty-Five

I’m drowning.

I’m on fire.

Terror writhed in delirium, desperate to breathe and burning up with fever. His head was pounding. It felt like someone was stabbing him with a white-hot razor, slicing away at his belly and chest.

I’m dying.

Why isn’t anyone helping me?

Muddled voices surrounded him, and he wanted them to shut up. His eardrums felt like they were about to burst, and the loud voices were agonizingly painful. He mustered his strength and swung blindly, muttering thickly and angrily.

“Stop!” Someone caught his fist and shoved it back down to the bed. “Stop fighting us! We’re trying to help you!”

“Get some restraints in here!”

Terror recognized that voice. It was Risk. He tried to argue back, to threaten to kick Risk’s ass if he put restraints on him, but his mouth wouldn’t work. He managed to open his eye, but everything was blurry and bright so he closed it again.

“Hit him with a sedative,” Risk commanded. “And get him intubated as soon as he’s out. His lungs are trash. Where are his lab results? I need to know what toxin they used! And get dialysis set up!”

No! Not a breathing tube! Don’t you fucking dare!

A flash of cold, stinging fluid traveled up his arm, and he surrendered to the pull of dreamless sleep. Everything ceased to matter, and nothing made sense until the annoying blip of machines penetrated the haze of sleep. The sensation of something incredibly heavy on his chest caused him to panic. He lifted his hand, his muscles so weak his fingers trembled, and brushed at his chest, desperate to push the weight off of him.

“Careful.” Vicious suddenly appeared at his side, his voice rough with exhaustion. “You’ll tear out your lines.”

Terror woke to the sight of Vicious hovering over him. His vision took a few moments to clear completely, and when it did, he was taken aback by the bruises on his best friend’s face. There were suture strips along his forehead, and his lower lip was fat and swollen.

When Terror tried to speak, his throat refused to work. All that came out was a raspy squeak before he was wracked with a chest burning cough that left him hacking and gagging.

“Medic!” Vicious called over his shoulder. “Don’t try to talk, Terror. Your lungs are fucked.”

No, shit,he thought sarcastically while gasping for air.

“Risk had them pull your tube a few hours ago. They cut down on your sedative so you would wake up, but it’s going to be hell the next few days.” Vicious grabbed a stack of gauze squares from a nearby tray and used them to mop up the spittle and mucus on Terror’s mouth and nose. “I guess this is good practice for when our babies get here.”

Terror managed to lift his hand and shoot Vicious the finger for that remark. Vicious laughed and tossed the gauze as Risk trailed a medic into the room.

“You’re awake,” Risk stated the obvious. “I could hear you coughing from the other end of the deck. You sound about as terrible as I expected.”

Vicious stepped aside as Risk and the medic started to assess him. Risk gave a list of orders before adjusting some medications. The medic got to work, and Risk asked him a series of questions that he answered with one or two nods. When Risk finished his examination, he left, taking the medic with him and more vials of Terror’s blood for testing.

The bed dipped as Vicious sat on the edge of it. He stared at Terror for a moment, his expression one of regret and reluctance. Vicious cleared his throat and said, “Maisie isn’t here, Terror.”

Horror washed over him as the words registered. Dreading the answer, he asked, “Dead?”

“No.” Vicious hesitated again. “Well, we don’t think so.”

Terror shook his head, silently asking what the hell that meant.

“After you and Maisie and Devious escaped 4S-8KN on Flint’s ship, there was a malfunction and the ship was crippled.”

Terror nodded. He remembered that.

“Maise was able to keep the ship’s life systems running long enough to sustain the three of you until rescue.” Vicious must have seen the confusion on his face because he hurriedly explained, “Before Risk and I broke her out of the med bay, I gave her my emergency beacon. She used it to call for help.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “We were in the middle of all hell breaking loose,” he gestured to his face, “but I managed to get Hazard on our fastest rescue ship. He found you, and he brought you and Devious back.”

Terror frowned. He didn’t try to speak the words, but he mouthed them. “Why only us?”

“Maisie is a wanted criminal. I wasn’t sure we could keep her alive if she was brought back here.”

Terror’s jaw hardened. “And?”

“I sent a bag of provisions with Hazard and told him to put her on a pod. She fought him, but eventually, she agreed to go.” Vicious made a face. “And that’s where things went awry.”

“Vee,” Terror rasped angrily. “Tell me.”

“She disabled the transponder beacon on her pod. We aren’t sure where she landed. If she landed,” Vicious amended with a grimace. “It’s possible she may have been intercepted or crashed or...”

Terror glared at Vicious, and he trailed off without finishing his thought. Balling his hands into fists, Terror could barely contain his rage. The heart rate monitor mounted on the wall began to beep wildly, and he felt the tickle of a cough in his throat as his breaths became shallow. Betrayal consumed him. How could they? How could his friends do this?

Mustering every bit of strength, he snarled, “Get out!”

Vicious recoiled. “Terror.”

“Get. Out.” Terror could no longer hold back the cough tearing through his chest. He sucked in a ragged breath in between gurgling gasps and shoved at Vicious. “Get out! Go!”

“Terror. Please.” Vicious moved off the bed and pleaded for him to listen. “There was no other choice. She couldn’t come back here.”

“Get! Out!” Terror grabbed the only thing he could reach—some sort of suction device the medic had left behind—and hurled it at Vicious. “Go!”

Risk rushed into the room as the suction device hit Vicious in the chest. “What the hell is going on in here?”

Overcome by a coughing fit that rendered him blue and on the verge of passing out, Terror was only vaguely aware of Risk yelling at Vicious and sending him out of the room. Medics flooded into the space, and Terror tried to fight them off as they attempted to give him a sedative. He couldn’t stay in this bed. He had to get out of here. He had to find Maisie.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Risk said, as if reading his mind. “You wouldn’t make it one step from this bed. Calm down!” Risk snapped. “If you die because of your stubbornness, you’ll never see her again.”

Risk’s warning forced Terror to submit to medical care. Hating his weakened state, Terror gritted his teeth and waited for the medical team to leave. Risk gave him a lower dose of the sedative, not enough to knock him out completely but enough to make him drowsy.

But even doped up, his mind raced with horrible images, each one worse than the last. Maisie dying in a crash. Maisie intercepted by Splinters. Maisie killed by bounty hunters. Maisie captured by space pirates. Maisie sold to a skin trader. Maisie starving to death on a strange, uninhabitable planet. Maisie alone and scared.

She’s strong. She’s a fighter. She’s smart. She has survival skills.

He reminded himself of all her many qualities. She was capable and brave. She had been so courageous to get into that pod, knowing that the sacrifice of her safety meant that he and Devious would have a chance to live.

I’ll find her.

I don’t care what it takes.

The sedative took hold. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stay awake. His eye drifted closed as the vow circled round and round in his head.

I won’t give up until she’s in my arms again.

When Terror woke a long time later, Vicious was sitting in a chair next to his bed. Typical, he thought with irritation. Vicious was so fucking pigheaded about things.

“I told you to leave,” Terror rasped, startling Vicious from his deep thoughts.

“I don’t take orders from subordinates.” Vicious shifted in his chair and met his stare. “We good?”

Terror wanted to hate his best friend for the way he had handled Maisie, but he acknowledged all the many times he had made awful decisions that hurt other people. Menace and Naya came to mind. Seeing her almost die remained one of his worst memories.

With a jerky nod, he grumbled, “Yeah, we’re good.”

Vicious relaxed into his chair and stretched out his legs. He sighed heavily. “You missed a hell of a battle.”

“I figured,” Terror said, weakly gesturing to Vicious’ face. “Casualties?”

“More than a few,” Vicious replied. “We captured or killed all of the Splinter double agents onboard the ship. We have nowhere to send them so Orion is looking at his options. I suggested we vent them, but he says the laws still apply, even if we are at Level Red conditions.”

“Prime? Or one of the prison planets?”

Vicious shook his head. “They didn’t get the warnings in time. Those shitheads blew up most of the government complex on Prime. The assembly hall, the council chambers, the courts, a hospital…” Vicious scratched the top of his head. “Two prison planets were overrun by Splinters and inmates. I don’t even want to think about what a nightmare that mop up is going to be.”

Terror’s sense of duty wouldn’t let him rest in this bed for long. Already, his tired mind was thinking of options. “We have black sites where the most dangerous double agents can be held.”

Vicious grimaced. “Grim mentioned that as a possibility.”

“Or we use the war powers designated for Level Red use to run tribunal court proceedings,” Terror said, wheezing as he reached the end.

“That’s what Orion and Noble are working on tonight. We’re still trying to figure out chain of command,” Vicious admitted. “Flint wasn’t the only high-ranking officer, serving or retired, on that list. Most of them have been captured or killed. Of course, you already know that about Flint.”

Terror nodded slowly. “Maisie jammed a metal rod through his ear.”

“Gross.” Vicious winced and then poured a small cup of water. He peeled the wrapper from a straw. “Here. Risk said you can have small sips.”

Terror gratefully sipped the water. He hated feeling so useless and weak, but at least Vicious wouldn’t use his vulnerable state against him.

“I thought you were actually going to die this time,” Vicious admitted roughly. “When they brought you in, you were barely breathing. The first eight days were touch and go—“

“Eight days!” Terror reeled in shock. “How long has it been since my rescue?”

“Thirteen days,” Vicious said gently, “Most of it in quarantine for the virus. They moved you out here to a regular room two days ago and started lowering the dose on your sedatives so you would wake up.”

“Thirteen days.” Terror felt nauseous. “She’s been alone for thirteen days?”

Vicious gave his shoulder a squeeze. “We’re doing everything we can to find her. I promise you. I will make every resource available that I can spare.”

In a time of heightened security, there wouldn’t be many resources for a rescue operation, especially not for a wanted fugitive.

“Orion and I are going to do what we can to clear her name. Devious has already gone to Prime to meet with what’s left of the Council. He promised he would do whatever it takes to get her a pardon.”

“When I find her, if the council won’t pardon her, I’m done,” Terror stated sharply.

“She’s still a Defect,” Vicious said carefully. “Even if she gets a pardon, they’ll never sanction her as a mate.”

“After everything I’ve given, the least they can do is let me have her.” Fury welled inside him. “And there’s nothing defective about her!”

“I know,” Vicious assured him. “Our laws say otherwise.”

“Our laws are bullshit.”

“Some of them are,” Vicious agreed. “Changing them won’t be easy.”

Terror was reminded of the conversation he had with Maisie about this very thing. “The things that are most important never are.”

“General,” a medic interjected respectfully from the doorway. “Visiting hours are ending, sir.”

Vicious shot Terror an apologetic look. “Orion has the ship on a tight curfew.”

“Go,” Terror said, his energy waning and his chest aching from the exertion of their discussion. A worrisome thought hit. “Is Hallie okay?”

“Yes.” Vicious’ face had turned as hard as stone. “She suffered a fall during the initial attack, but she’s fine now.”

“The babies?” he asked carefully.

“Healthy,” Vicious said, his face relaxing some. “Her scan this morning went well.”

“Good.” He struggled against the heavy weight of drowsiness consuming him. “The other mates?”

“All safe,” Vicious assured him. “Rest, Terror. I’ll check in on you tomorrow.”

Terror made an unintelligible sound, barely able to keep his eye open as Vicious left and the medic came into his room to check his vitals and make adjustments to his medications and fluids. By the time the medic left, he had slipped into another torturous nightmare that he couldn’t escape. Each time he would jolt awake and remember the horrible truth.

Maisie is gone.

His heart ached, and it wasn’t the crushing pressure from the infection raging through his lungs causing it. No, it was love. All these years, he had refused to let anyone get as close as Maisie had. He had prided himself on being aloof and untethered.

This agonizing moment of lovesick heartbreak should have been enough to convince him that he had been wrong to open his heart to Maisie. This awful, stomach twisting sensation should have solidified his belief in love being a weakness and a foolish endeavor.

But it didn’t.

If anything, the torment stirring up his guts and making his eye burn with stinging tears, left him all the more grateful for the moments he had shared with her. He could still remember the smell of her hair. He could still feel her soft mouth on his. He could still taste her, could still hear the joyful sound of her laughter and the gasps of her pleasure.

Alone in his hospital room, Terror turned toward the small fake window projecting views of a night sky. Somewhere, maybe far away or surprisingly close, Maisie was under similar stars. He closed his eye and pictured her staring up at them. Was she thinking of him? Did she feel this same gnawing ache?

Stay alive, Maisie. Wherever you are, stay alive. I will find you.