“Ah, yes. I’ve heard all captives are agreeable and do exactly as you instruct.”
“Of course.” Mace shook his head as they joined the crush of the crowd. He was not cut out to be a warder. He’d lost his captive in the first five minutes on the station.
“You’re not going to call it, are you?” Grey asked.
Mace shook his head. He’d find her the old-fashioned way. He didn’t want to degrade her escape attempt. Didn’t want to scare and humiliate her further.
“We’ve got a runner!” Grey shouted.
Mace narrowed his eyes at him.
Grey shrugged. “Look, she’s right ahead. Easy.”
Everyone in the corridor had frozen at Grey’s words—everyone except Mace’s captive. The circle of bodies around her raised their arms, indicating her position. Mace could hear her hushed and frantic voice as they neared.
“No, no, don’t do that. Put your arms down. I just want to leave. Please, let me out. Oh, no.”
His captive tried to squeeze her way between the people without touching them, angling her body then backing up because they weren’t separating for her. Mace knew CORE citizens avoided contact with strangers as much as possible. Not a helpful phobia at the moment.
He broke through the circle of bodies.
She whirled around to confront him, her russet eyes flashing, a snarl on her lips. “You killed everyone.”
Mace reached for her upper arm, and she jerked away. Her eyes had gone wild as she searched the crowd.
“You act as if nothing happened,” she said it so quietly he had to strain to hear her, but her words were broken.
She fell to her knees before he could catch her, and dry heaved, deep, wracking sounds. His chest ached to hear it. What he’d done to her ate at him. What she still had to go through created a bitter taste in his mouth.
“All clear!” Grey shouted. The crowd resumed their frantic pace.
Still on her hands and knees, his captive looked at his friend with hate-filled eyes.
“Whoa,” Grey said, raising is hands in surrender.
“Do you have bindings on you?” Mace hated to do it, but if she tried to run again, she’d get herself shot.
Pressing his lips into a line, Grey reached into his pocket and passed him a thin strip of polymer.
Mace nodded his thanks. “Tell Cache I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Sending his captive one last, sympathetic glance, Grey tipped his head and merged with the flow of foot traffic.
Quickly, Mace grasped his captive by the hips and set her on her feet. Taking her two wrists in his hand, he wrapped the binding around her flesh, and pulled it tight, only leaving a finger width of space. If she struggled, it would only get tighter.
Her eyes spat fire at him, her jaw locked.
“Do you want to be shot by an enforcer?” he said in Common, keeping his low voice.
“Shoot me then. Get it over with.”
Letting out a frustrated breath, he tugged on her bound wrists, against the flow of traffic, toward processing.
Nia bent her head, avoiding the stares of the people around her. Misplaced shame wracked her body. She kept her gaze fixed to her bound hands and the fingers pulling her with insistence. The uselessness of trying to escape pressed on her.
Mace. The brutality of his name suited him, a sharp, blunt instrument of death.
They crossed the docking bay, the sound of their footsteps lost among the noise. The line of medical officers had shrunk, but the scent of weapons fire lingered. Two men, faces she didn’t know, waited beside two warriors. She took a shuddering breath as they were shuffled forward into a scanning area.
