The feed went black.
“No!” he yelled, the sound ripped from the deepest part of him. Fingers digging into the sides of his seat, he tried to tear it apart with his bare hands.
Nia turned her body until her face rested against his chest, fingers clutching his shirt.
He took gasping breaths. If he thought about what would happen to Lexi, he would implode.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Nia clutched his shirt tighter. “I’m so sorry.”
His big sister.
Mace couldn’t stop his silent tears.
Chapter thirty-six
WiththeTellusianfleetin sight, Nia’s heart pumped an anxious rhythm in her chest. The sight of two Destroyers, their armaments glinting in the light cast by the other smaller ships around them, made her stomach clench in a tight knot, adding to her nausea.
Lexi. Oh no, Lexi.
She couldn’t get the sight of Mace’s sister’s bruised face out of her head. Her stomach threatened to empty itself. Would Lexi be suffering like she had with those mind moles? Would her throat be raw with screams? Could something worse be happening to her?
Nia couldn’t stop the morbid cycle of her thoughts.
She and Mace hadn’t spoken as they’d traveled to the new co-ordinates Lexi had sent. Those were some of the longest hours of her life.
Panic had clawed her as they’d waited for some sort of communique. Thoughts of all the ways they would suffer if stranded in deep space bombarded her. Running out of food, air, freezing to death—it became a never-ending loop of doom.
When Grey finally got in touch, she’d never been more relieved.
Now the Tellusian fleet neared, each of the smaller ships becoming more distinct.
“That’s a CORE freighter,” she murmured, leaning forward. “How would you get one of those?”
“We have our ways,” Mace said, voice flat and body rigid. His hands moved over the controls, then his vambrace.
Every part of her ached for him. Her battle-ready warrior could do nothing for his sister, and he’d had only time to think about it on their journey here.
“This is what’s going to happen,” said Mace as he drew nearer to the one Destroyer, his arms tight against her shoulders and his voice soft in her ear. “I’m not bringing you aboard officially. We’ll get you emancipated, then you’ll stay out of sight until I can get you on a transport. Understand?”
She nodded, her throat too tight to speak. After all her insisting she wanted to go home, his words stabbed her heart.
Mace circled around one of the Destroyers and flew the Condor into the starboard aft hangar, passing through its shielding with a sizzle. Shuttles, fighters, and smaller transports lined the deck and inner bulkheads. Once between two shuttles at the rear of the hangar, Mace lowered their ship.
Two warriors stood by, both looking about as deadly as anyone could in a casual way. The fighter’s hum disappeared to nothing as Mace powered down, then the canopy opened. Besides a few maintenance workers, the hangar was quiet.
Hands on her hips, Mace lifted her over the edge. Glad to get out of the cramped fighter, Nia climbed out and descended the retracting ladder.
Her feet hit the deck with a satisfying thud. She turned, eyeing the two warriors.
The one on the left, tall and lanky, wore dark glasses that concealed his eyes. Tattoos wrapped around his neck. The other warrior was shorter, stocky. A wicked scar sliced downward into his eye socket.
How could he have survived such a wound?
The one with the glasses raised his eyebrows at her frown, and the other stared at her with an assessing gaze. Once Mace joined her on the deck, they stepped forward to embrace his forearm in turn.
Mace spoke in Tellusian, his eyes sliding to her before he stepped closer and ran a hand down her spine. She leaned into him.
“Everything is arranged,” Mace said to her in Common. “We need to go take you to processing.”
