The floor dropped out from under her.
She’d known. Of course she’d known. She’d assumed it because men who looked like him did not come onto women who looked like her. She’d told herself that from the beginning. Reminded herself every time he smiled at her, every time his hand lingered on her waist.
But knowing and hearing it were two different things.
She stood frozen in place.
Cait. Fred’s voice was distant in her ears. Tinny. Cait, your heart rate?—
She’d told herself she was too smart to fall for it… that she saw right through him. She’d told herself the attraction was physical, convenient, controllable.
For fuck’s sake, she’d been so fucking stupid.
Raaze was still talking. Something about how things had changed, how he hadn’t expected to care, how she wasn’t just a means to an end anymore. She watched his mouth move and heard none of it.
Then she walked past him.
He reached for her arm. She stepped out of range without looking at him. Her quarters were three steps down the corridor, and he followed her every one of them. The data chip was in the pocket of her jacket, where she’d kept it since Ithaan’Dor. She pulled it out and set it on the desk with a small click.
“Be off my ship in ten minutes.”
“Cait—”
“Ten. Minutes.” She turned and walked back to the cockpit, sat in her chair, and began the launch sequence.
Her hands were steady. They should have been shaking, because everything else inside her was shaking… a fine tremor that started in her chest and radiated outward until her whole body felt like it might fly apart. But not her hands. They were rock-solid.
Cait. Fred said, sharper now. Talk to me.
She couldn’t. Not yet. If she opened her mouth, she didn’t know what would come out.
The pre-flight checklist scrolled across her display. She worked through it methodically. Fuel pressure… Navigation systems… Life support. All the same steps she’d done a thousand times.
Raaze appeared in the cockpit doorway.
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving.” She didn’t look at him. Her voice came out flat, emotionless, like someone else was speaking through her mouth. “I’m taking my ship and going home.”
“Cait, you can’t?—”
“You have the data chip. Do what you like with it.” She pulled up the departure request and submitted it to station traffic control. “I’m done.”
She could feel him standing there… could feel his stare on the back of her head.
“The match is tomorrow.” His voice was strained. “I’m registered?—”
Traffic control has approved our departure, Fred said. We are cleared for launch.
She turned back to the controls.
“Cait. Please.”
She didn’t answer, letting the silence stretch out.
He sighed and turned to go. She listened to the sound of his footsteps through the ship toward the airlock.
She didn’t watch him go, not even through the port-side cameras. Instead, she kept her eyes on the viewscreen as the airlock sealed shut, and then retracted the landing struts, dropping the H4-RPY out of the docking cradle and turning her onto their departure vector.
