Her pounding head felt heavy on her shoulder, too heavy to lift, but she cracked her eyes open. The undulating view down her body revealed a grated deck. She wore her sleepwear and no shoes. The tips of her toes brushed the floor, just enough to make her sway, but not enough to give her grip. A sheet of plastic beneath her crinkled with her efforts.
She forced her head to look up. Tight bindings encircled her wrists and attached to the overhead beams of the cargo hold. The more she moved,the more they chafed, almost all of her body weight resting on the tight bands. A line of blood trickled down her arm.
The drugs in her system evaporated at the sight of that blood. Her heart pounded in her throat, her eyes attaching to the red with single-minded focus. Panic clawed up her throat and hazed her vision, making the cargo hold spin.
No.She wouldn’t get herself in a more compromising situation by passing out. Wynn inhaled deeply, then exhaled, concentrating on the pain in her wrists like she would a laser scalpel to her flesh, allowing it to settle her. She did it again and again until the room stopped whirling.
Boot steps bounced off the stacked containers. She snapped her head toward the sound. Sawyer rounded the corner. He still wore his full flight-suit, and the closer he neared, the more she saw her distorted reflection in his visor, an elongated white smudge amid gray and black.
“What the fuck?” she croaked, her throat tight with the need to scream.
He stopped in front of her with something held tight in his hand.
She struck out with her feet, trying to kick him, but he was out of reach. Her effort rewarded her with more pain in her wrists and her body twirling in some macabre dance.
“What did you do to me?” she asked when she faced him again.
He paced in front of her, back and forth. “Gave you a sedative.” The mechanical quality of his voice was subdued. “Removed your tracker.”
Her eyes darted down to his hand, and she focused on the objects he held: a laser scalpel and a regenerator. Her rage swelled. She rolled her shoulders, the skin twinging where he’d surgically removed her CORE tracker, and realized the node remained, too.
“What else?” she ground out between clenched teeth. “You took off all my clothes.”
He paused, his head turning her way. “I’m not a psycho.”
“Yes. You. Are,” she gritted.
He cocked his head. “Not that kind of psycho.” He resumed his pacing.
A sob of frustration wanted to escape her mouth, but she swallowed it down. Now that she’d seen what he was capable of, she wouldn’t show weakness. Not if she wanted to survive this. Whateverthiswas.
She stared at him, the back of her eyes burning.
“We’re going to have a chat,” he declared.
Her jaw ached from clenching her teeth. “Fuck you.”
“No thanks,” he said with a shake of his head. “We’re here for business, not pleasure.” Four steps to the left, he spun on his heel, then took the same four steps to the right. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them honestly.”
“Like I said,” she growled, straining against the bindings until more warmth tricked down her arm. “Fuck. You.”
He stopped and turned his body toward her. “It’s easy. I ask a question, you answer, and nothing else needs to happen.”
With a flick of his thumb, he turned on the laser scalpel.Hummmmm.
She jerked back, trying to get away from him even though she was bound in place. A fresh wave of panic crashed over her head.
He turned it off, then resumed his pacing. “It’s just some questions.”
Anger and hate welled inside her. “You destroyed my home. Youabductedme. I’m not answering your questions.”
She couldn’t swallow for the toxic emotions clogging her throat.Nothing left.Not one thing left of the outpost. The greenhouse lay in a heap of shattered rubble. Every plant she’d nurtured from a seed that might have survived the blast would have died in the elements.
Her work meant nothing.Pointless.
Her entire life was pointless.
That spinning sensation started in her stomach, though she remained stationary. The cargo hold swirled around her in shades of gray.
