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Layla made a muffled noise and Blythe glanced over her shoulder. Layla’s lower lip was swollen, her blonde hair tangled around her face. She still looked ready to bite through somebody’s throat.

“You’ve got a debt,” he said. “All of you have in some way or another. Some of you owe me money, and some of you stole equipment purchased through my accounts, or ran from a contract. You’ve all cost me personnel, fuel, docking fees, and a ship just to get back what is mine.”

“That was our ship,” Blythe hissed.

“It was collateral. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Turning, he continued down the corridor, and the guards shoved them to follow. “No one runs from me. There is nowhere in this sector you can go that I cannot reach.”

God, what a fucking speech.

Blythe rolled her eyes. She was terrified. Like properly terrified… her hands had gone cold, and her legs felt unsteady every time the chain pulled, but she’d spent too long around men who liked the sound of their own voices to give him the satisfaction of looking terrified.

Stevie bumped lightly against her shoulder. It was barely a movement, just enough that she felt it and the chain between them clicked.

Blythe looked over, and something in her chest cracked open.

Stevie was scared, too. Her face was pale, but she was still checking Blythe over like she had a scraped knee and needed a cup of tea.

Swallowing hard, Blythe looked away before she did something stupid. Like cry.

Joe led them through another sealed door and into a wider corridor lined with cargo doors.

“I have buyers,” he said. “Buyers who will recover my losses very nicely. Some of you have skills. Some of you have... other value.”

Layla jerked against her chain. “Go fuck yourself.”

One of the guards raised his rifle.

“Don’t,” Joe said mildly. “She’s expensive.”

His gaze landed on Calli, who had been quiet since they’d been captured. Her hair covered half her face, but Blythe saw her flinch when Joe smiled at her.

“And some,” Joe continued, “have already been paid for.”

Callie went still.

Blythe’s eyes narrowed and she gave a short, ugly laugh.

“Well, you’re shit out of luck with me, then. I’m too old, too grumpy, and far too bad-tempered for anybody to want to buy.”

Joe looked at her and laughed, big and booming. “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. Your fiancé made sure of that. He sold you to me to cover a trifling little gambling debt.”

The corridor fell silent.

James...

“No,” she whispered, her blood turning to ice.

Joe’s smile widened.

Blythe swallowed. Her tongue felt too big in her mouth. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would he sell me?” The question came out thin and wrong. She shook her head hard. No. James was a lying, thieving, cheating bastard who had wrecked their ship and stolen every credit they had, but this? This was way beyond stealing her shit and running off.

Joe shrugged. “No idea. But I have a buyer for you already. Someone real interested in making sure he got you.”