No. It didn't. Thought I suspected it was Persico wanting to torment me about claiming Merrilee. We hadn't exactly been quiet last night, and I suspected news of our joining had reached his ears.
I followed the guard through the compound, my senses on high alert. We moved past the corridor that would have taken us to Persico's throne room, heading to the lower level.
The guard stopped at a reinforced door, knocked twice, then stepped aside. "He's expecting you."
I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The office was cleaner than the rest of Fange City. Actual furniture instead of scrap metal. A desk. Chairs. A comm unit that looked new enough to still have its factory coating.
And behind the desk, Declan Hewes.
He looked up as I entered, and something cold slithered through my gut. He was smiling. The smile of a man who enjoyed causing pain.
He was tall for a human—not as tall as me, but taller than most of his kind. Silver threaded through the dark hair at his temples, giving him a distinguished look that seemed calculated. His clothes were Earth-made, I realized. A pressed shirt and jacket. Pristine. Immaculate. Completely out of place on a prison planet where everything else was covered in dust and blood and desperation.
"Ahrick," he said pleasantly. "Thank you for coming."
I didn't sit. Didn't move from my position near the door. "What do you want?"
"Straight to business. I appreciate that." He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. "I have a proposition for you."
"Not interested."
"You haven't heard it yet."
"Don't need to."
His smile widened. "It concerns Merrilee."
Every muscle in my body went rigid. "What about her?"
"Your next fight." He pulled up a holo-display, showing the roster. "You're scheduled against a new prisoner, a Draxian named Korroth. Big bastard. Mean. He's being sent here for a slaughter on Turaxxan-7."
"So?"
"So I need you to lose."
The words floated in the air like stinging insects.
"No."
"I'm not asking, Ahrick. I'm telling you." He dismissed the holo-display with a flick of his wrist. "Korroth has connections to someone with access to shipping routes I require. He wants a prize. Specifically, he wants Merrilee."
My vision went red at the edges. "Merrilee isn't for sale."
"Perhaps," Hewes agreed. "But she can be won. If Korroth beats you, Persico will award her to him as prize. And in turn Korroth will give me the information I need."
I felt my claws extend involuntarily. "Draxians are brutal bastards. They've been known to kill females during mating."
"I'm aware of their... proclivities." Hewes's tone was utterly indifferent.
"She's human. She wouldn't survive it."
"Probably not." He examined his fingers, examining his fingernails. "But that's the price of doing business."
I moved before I could think. Three steps and I had him by the throat, slamming him back against the wall hard enough to crack the metal paneling.
The impact reverberated through my arm, through my chest, satisfying in a way that made my blood sing. His eyes went wide—shock first, then fear as his hands came up to claw at my wrist. Weak. Ineffectual. Human fingers scrabbling against Vaktaire strength like a flower against stone.
