Aletta felt her legs go weak, slumping against Gark’s chair. “Let me guess, it’s an all- male penal colony.”
Gark nodded. “Yes.”
“And human women are being sent there to do what, exactly?”
Please don’t be what I suspect it is.
This time, Lara spoke up. “Domestic cleaner is what they write on the paperwork.”
Aletta turned around to meet the sympathetic gaze of the other woman. “But that’s not what they really do.”
Lara shook her head. “No, it’s not. I’ve heard a few things. Are you sure you want to know?”
Aletta nodded. “Tell me.”
Lara looked down, as if she couldn’t meet Aletta’s eyes. “They’re sent to be bait in a maze, or as prizes to men who compete to the death in blood sport, like gladiators.” She paused. “Or they’re sent to the brothels. And that’s if they survive the drop.”
Aletta wanted to vomit. “Survive the drop?”
Vox spoke up. “It’s dangerous. Many drop ships are barely more than tin cans. They’re not meant to send people in them, just supplies, but it’s the only way down that isn’t a prison transport.”
Gark’s hand landed on her good one, gripping her fingers. He looked to Oren. “Where is the ship you traced?”
She squeezed Gark’s hand, needing the connection to something solid and safe. Aletta’s heart thudded, and a warmth spread over her skin, her breathing settling.
“They had a mechanical failure which appears to have taken out their FTL drive, so they’re moving slowly.” Oren looked at a tablet. “But there is another ship on a course to intercept them.”
Aletta stared intently at Gark. “Tell me we can make it in time.”
He didn’t meet her eyes. “Jarden?”
The navigator was looking at a map that showed three neon dots. One, in the center, was stationary. The other two were approaching from opposite directions.
“It will be tight, but we can make it.”
The Taurean on the screen spoke again. “May the Lady bless your mission.”
“And yours.” The reply came from everyone on the bridge—except for Aletta and Lara—fists held over their hearts.
The next few days passed in a blur of preparation for battle. Aletta quickly became bored with the routine of sleep, eat, then keep busy while the crew prepared for their mission. With every minute that brought them closer to the possibility of rescuing Dylan, she felt a rising tension inside her. She couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the worst-case scenarios.
What if Dylan was injured?
What if she wasn’t even on the ship?
Lara was what kept her sane during those long hours of preparation. She’d been helping Klath in the med bay, so Aletta joined her, tidying cupboards and doing a stocktake. She’d appreciated having something productive to do and not being alone with her thoughts.
Aletta’s wrist had healed, and Klath had decided to remove her cast. Aletta was sitting on the examination bed while he ran his scanner over her wrist.
The comm in the med bay sounded. “Go ahead,” she called, having long since gotten used to answering the ship-wide comm for Klath while he was occupied. The man could zone out like nobody she’d ever known and completely miss an entire day of meals, let alone a buzzing comm.
Klath looked up from her wrist with a smile of thanks, then went back to examining it.
“Aletta?” Gark’s voice was deep and growly, and she shivered. The way he said her name did shivery things to her lady parts.
“Yes.” She bit her lip. She’d managed to avoid spending any time alone with him since the day they’d had sex, and he’d declared himself her mate.
She’d moved all her stuff into Lara’s room, the two women sharing A’Kar’s abandoned cabin. Gark had been weird ever since. It wasn’t as if she’d been unclear. Just because he thought they were married didn’t mean she did.
