One word, but I put everything into it. Every threat, every promise, every ounce of lethal capability I possessed.
“She is not claimed,” the center Ixari observed with the mild interest of someone noting an unexpected weather pattern. “No mark. No legal standing. No protection that we are bound to recognize.”
One of them glided closer. Not walking exactly, more like its feet never quite touched the ground. Its translucent hand rosetoward Sabine, and I could see the bones beneath the skin, too many joints, fingers that bent in directions that hurt to watch.
“We can taste her potential from here.” Its voice was different from the center one. Higher, with harmonics that made my teeth ache. “All those numbers in her head. All that pattern recognition burning so bright. Three years of exposure to the algorithms has changed her neural pathways. She'll make an excellent tool once we've made the proper adjustments.”
The hand got within six inches of Sabine's face. I could feel her breath catch, feel the tremor that ran through her body. But she didn't retreat. Didn't cower. My brave, brilliant dealer who'd just burned down an empire with patience and code.
I caught the Ixari's wrist.
The bones shattered like spun glass.
The sound it made wasn't a scream. They weren't built for screaming. Instead, it was like wind through a broken flute, high and discordant and wrong. Black blood that looked and smelled like motor oil dripped from where the bones had pierced its translucent skin. The blood hissed where it hit the floor, eating small holes in the polymer.
“She's MINE.”
The words came out with such force that dust fell from the ceiling. The guards felt it. The human actually dropped his weapon. The Mondians' scales flattened against their bodies in submissive postures. Even the Ixari took notice.
This wasn't just a claim. This was a declaration of war against anything that would threaten her.
“Yours?” The center Ixari tilted its head the other direction, and I heard vertebrae pop and realign. “The law is very clear. Without a mark, she's free game. And the Conclave has uses for her.”
Behind them, the screens were still displaying Qeth's crimes. I could hear commotion in the corridors. Shouts, running feet,the distinctive whine of pulse weapons charging. The station was beginning to tear itself apart.
“By Vinduthi law,” I said, fighting every instinct screaming at me to simply tear them apart and claim her here, now, while her enemies' blood was still warm, “she is under my protection. That makes her untouchable unless she chooses otherwise.”
The wounded Ixari cradled its shattered wrist with disturbing fascination, watching the bones trying to realign themselves.
“Vinduthi law.” It laughed. A sound like breaking bells underwater. “How charmingly traditional. How wonderfully outdated. Do you really think we care about your species' quaint customs?”
“You should.”
I smiled, and made sure they saw every fang. Made sure they understood exactly what kind of predator they were dealing with.
“Every Vinduthi in twelve systems would hunt you if you violate a protection claim. Not just me. Not just my crew. All of us. We're not numerous, but we're memorable.” I let that sink in. “How many Vinduthi work security for your operations? How many run enforcement? How many have you relied on when you needed something handled efficiently?”
The three Ixari exchanged looks. Or what passed for looks between creatures with no pupils. Some communication passed between them. Maybe psychic, maybe pheromonal, maybe just the understanding of predators recognizing a genuine threat.
During their silence, I felt Sabine shift behind me. Her hand on my waist moved slightly, and I realized she was doing that thing she did when thinking. Her fingers counting in a pattern only she understood. Planning. Calculating. Even now, even with death negotiating for her life, that brilliant mind was working.
“Your protection claim requires her consent,” the center Ixari said finally. “She must choose it. Publicly. Knowingly. With full understanding of the consequences.”
All three of those black-void eyes turned to Sabine. The weight of their attention was physical, pressing, invasive. I felt her tense, but then she stepped out just enough to be seen while keeping our hands linked. The movement pressed her against my side, her hip against mine, her breast brushing my arm. Every point of contact burned.
“Do you choose his protection, little human?”
The center Ixari's voice had taken on a different quality. Hypnotic. Compelling. I recognized the psychic pressure. Mild telepathy, the kind that could influence the weak-willed.
But Sabine wasn't weak-willed.
“Do you understand what you're binding yourself to? Vinduthi protection means Vinduthi law. Vinduthi justice. You become property in all but name. He could claim you at any moment, sink his fangs into that soft throat, and you would have no recourse. No escape. No future except what he allows.”
Sabine's chin lifted. That gesture I'd seen her use at the tables when a player tried to intimidate her. Her dealer's mask slipped into place, but underneath it, I felt her trembling. Not with fear. With rage.
“I understand.”
Her voice carried the same steadiness she used to announce bets, call winners, control tables full of desperate gamblers.
