Kept by Luna Voss
Chapter Nineteen
Melyta
Suddenly, I hear a loud roaring sound in the distance, getting louder. In front of us, a pair of human men step out of their vehicle, dressed from head to toe in black. Both of them are armed, their expressions stony. These are clearly trained killers.
The volume of the roaring increases, and both humans turn, startled. A pair of motorcycles rocket down the highway in our direction, screeching to a halt in the lane next to us. Before either of the humans have a chance to react, the motorcycle riders raise what appear to be sawed-off shotguns and open fire.
Both humans collapse on the pavement as slugs rip through them, a fine spray of blood lingering in the air. Behind us, the other black car revs its engine.
And then two more motorcycles appear, similarly armed, and open fire on the car behind us. I hear bangs, crunches, shattering glass. Barion holds me down, protecting me with his body. When the commotion stops and I’m able to glance in the rearview mirror, I see that the car has been absolutely annihilated, the remains of its broken windshield spattered red.
“Who…?” I whisper to Barion, my heart pounding. I don’t understand what’s happening. All of this is insane.
“I don’t know,” he whispers back. “But I think they’re Voorians. Probably Vostra. Let’s be on our best behavior. I have no idea why, but they just saved our asses.”
We stay in the car as one of the motorcycles pulls up next to us. The rider holds up the visor of his helmet, revealing a bewhiskered, weathered face.
“The Agusto Family sends its regards,” says the man. “Barion Dultaz, I presume?”
* * *
Barion
The Agusto Family. Interesting. They have a presence on Tarsheb 8, although not a big one. They’re headquartered in Greenhaven, the biggest city close to Dalax. That means they don’t directly compete with us. I’m used to thinking of them as a smaller, less consequential Vostra family.
“Barion Dultaz,” I confirm. “It seems like I owe you fellas one.”
“Don’t think us yet,” the motorcycle rider growls. “Imperial police will be here any minute. Get on a bike.”
It’s against my nature to be trusting like this, but I don’t exactly have a choice. Nodding at Melyta, I pull open the door to the taxi and help her out.
“Get on my bike,” says the Voorian closest to us, “and she can get on his.” He points to one of his companions.
“I want to ride together,” my mate says immediately.
“There’s no time,” I tell her, guiding her quickly over to the motorcycle. “Can’t fit three people on a bike.” I lower my voice. “We don’t have any option but to trust them. I promise I won’t let them take you away from me.”
I can tell she doesn't like it, but she nods and allows me to help her onto the motorcycle behind its driver. I hop onto the other bike, and a moment later all four motorcycles are speeding down the highway in a group. My eyes don’t leave Melyta the entire time, and to my relief, we don’t separate.
* * *
Melyta
I’ve never ridden on the back of a motorcycle before. Maybe it would be a fun experience if my heart wasn’t racing, if I didn’t have adrenaline pumping through my veins. I just almost died. Almost got murdered on a foreign planet by a gang of human mercenary thugs.
And yet somehow, what I feel right now isn’t fear. I’m not quaking in my boots, ready to curl into a ball, to hide, to run from the source of all this intensity.
My heart is pounding, but my mind is clear. I feel alive. And prepared to do whatever it takes to stay that way.
Apparently we beat the cops, because I don’t see a single police car the entire ride. I’m able to relax somewhat as we pull off the highway, even though I’m still very much on edge. These Voorians seem to be on our side, but I still don’t have a clue who they are, or why they’ve chosen to help us.
Our motorcycles converge in the parking lot of what looks to be some mid-tier bar and restaurant. Barion jumps off immediately, then helps me to dismount.
“Thank you,” he says to the man who seems to be their leader. “You really saved our asses back there.”
The man smiles as he pulls off his helmet. “Yeah, we really did. Let’s go inside now. The boss wants to talk to you.”
The interior is smoky and dimly lit, with a jukebox in the corner playing old-school Voorian pop tunes. Lounging around inside are more Voorians, tough-looking men who certainly seem to be vostrata. They eye us warily, clearly suspicious of outsiders.
We’re led into a back room, away from the main bar. It looks to be some kind of lounge area, with cushy chairs everywhere and a comfortable, rustic feel. A surprisingly normal-looking man sits in the corner, maybe 60 years old with graying hair. He smiles warmly as we enter.
“Hi, there,” he says, standing up and extending his hand. “My name is Dagor Agusto. I’m glad to see you both safe and sound.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” says Barion, shaking with him. “It seems like you already know that I’m Barion Dultaz, and this is Melyta, my mate.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” I greet him, and Dagor Agusto and I shake as well. Despite his rather unassuming appearance, I can feel in Dagor’s callused grip the kind of brute strength that tells me he’s very capable of violence if he wants to be.
Definitely a vostrat.
“I imagine you have questions,” says Dagor, gesturing for us to sit down opposite him.
“I’ll admit I’m wondering why you bothered to rescue us,” my mate replies.
Dagor laughs. “Any enemy of the Gallo Family is my friend. Although I myself am somewhat mystified why you just got attacked by your Family’s allies.”
Barion blinks. “Allies? The Dultaz Family isn’t allied with the Gallo Family. We’re not allied with any of the human gangs.”
“I guess news travels slowly around here,” says Dagor. “Or maybe you’re just out of the loop. Sarizor Dultaz and the Arthur Gallo just formed a partnership. Together, they now form the biggest criminal organization in the Tarsheb system.”
“What?”Barion exclaims. “When did that happen?”
“Last week. Why are you at odds with Sarizor?”
“Who said I was at odds with Sarizor? I came here to honeymoon with my new mate. There’s no conflict.”
Dagor’s smile widens. “And yet, how else am I supposed to interpret the fact that I just rescued you from your own Family’s allies?”
Barion is silent. There’s not much point arguing with this logic. Finally, he brings the conversation back to our rescue:
“How did you know where to find us? Your men really did show up on the highway in the nick of time.”
The Agusto boss shrugs. “This is our city,” he answers simply.
I start to fidget, my adrenaline still pumping. It feels wrong, somehow, to be sitting here so casually with all the shit that just went down. I feel like I need to be taking action, to be running, fighting, doing something. My body isn’t used to this kind of tension. I feel frustrated, and I need some kind of release.
“Why do you care about the Dultaz Family?” Barion asks. “We’re in Dalax, you’re in Greenhaven. You guys barely have a presence on Tarsheb 8, anyway.”
“I told you. What the Gallo Family does matters to us. Deeply. If they’re allied with Dultaz, well, that becomes a problem. It seems like you and I have a shared interest in this matter.”
Barion takes a deep breath. “Perhaps. What exactly is it you want?”
“Nothing,” says Dagor. “Just to be of assistance. You’re welcome to stay with us here on Gerbbbexai IX for as long as you want. When you’re ready, we can arrange a ride for you back to Tarsheb 8.” His eyes flash. “Unless you’d rather ride with Frank.”
I hide a gulp. It’s obvious that by using Frank’s name, he’s subtly making it clear that he’s been watching us, that he’s in control of what goes on in Zog, his city.
“Let me put you up in a property of ours,” Dagor offers, standing up. “Somewhere you’ll be safe. No human mob. We can have dinner together later. I imagine you’re both tired after the afternoon you’ve had.”
