A primal shout ripped from Mace’s throat.
The attacker, a man with light brown hair and a weak chin, went limp in the two medics’ arms. If it wasn’t for his frailty, Mace would have killed him right then.
Clenching his fists, he strode to where Nia lay. “Is she okay?” He squatted beside the medic.
“Yeah,” she replied running a scanner over Nia’s head. “Knocked unconscious. Concussed. Quick heal.”
“How did this happen?” Mace asked, moving Nia’s hair away from her face.
“He pushed her away from the kid, and she hit the next bed over.”
Mace swallowed his growl and swept Nia in his arms to place her on the vacant med bed, taking extra care with her head injury.
Then he turned, every part of him coiled to strike, and faced off with her attacker. He wanted blood, but the man was unarmed, his eyes wild. Bruises covered his face, burns on his hands.
A frantic beeping trilled from the boy’s med bed. The medic rushed to his side, raising the foot of the bed and plugging another portal into his arm.
“Save him. Save my boy,” the man moaned, straining against the medics.
“You incapacitated the only surgeon in the room,” the medic spat. The beeping subsided, and she ran a scanner over the boy’s body. “He’s stable for a moment, but the doctor needs to see to this artery.”
“Can you wake her?” Mace asked, brushing the hair away from Nia’s face, then gripped the edge of the hover bed, his knuckles turning white at the effort it took him to not drag her attacker into the bowels of the station where he’d never be found.
“Yes.” The medic came over and touched a dermal syringe to Nia’s throat.
Her fingers moved first, then she opened her eyes. Seeing Mace hovering above her, she bolted upright, pushing him away. Her hand flew to her head on a groan.
Mace nudged her down. “Take it easy. You’ve had a fall.”
“A fall?” Her voice came out on a croak. “No.” She sat up again and this time he helped her. “Someone pushed me.”
Her outrage calmed his nerves.
Nia’s gaze flew around the room to rest on the man being restrained by the two medics. Her brows pinched together as her hand moved to the side of her head, coming away with residual blood. Mace’s heart beat hard in his chest. She looked to the boy.
“How’s Kilian, Kessy?”
“Went into hypovolemic shock. Tibial artery.”
Nia jumped to her feet and swayed.
“Whoa,” Mace said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You need to rest a minute.”
“No time,” she said once she’d regained her balance, then pushed away from him.
“He’s stable now, but we need to re-amputate and seal off the artery,” Kessy explained.
“Don’t touch him, you CORE filth!” the man screamed. “Your kind put him there. You’ve no right to touch him.”
Mace allowed his rage to take over and took a step toward him. The door to the med bay opened. A team of four enforcers entered, guns aimed at all present.
“Commander?” the lead warrior asked.
Mace grimaced and exhaled a slow breath. He’d forgotten he’d called the team. With regret, he cocked his head to the man being restrained. “Take him to the brig and make sure I’m the first in line. No questions.”
“Yes, sir.”
The man yelled, trying to break free from the warriors. The door slid shut, cutting off his insults.
