by Laney Kaye
I swatted the pistol from his hand and it skittered across the polished obsidian floor as I loosed a snarl, my spittle flecking his white face.
He staggered back, hitting the invisible cryoglass balcony shield. Both hands raised in front of his face, he cowered, his head turned to one side, as though he could hide from the sight of my fury.
Both my roar and the breaking glass would’ve been heard in the street. Few would dare confront a Ligerkin, but my comrades would have been summoned by my call and already be circling below. This army had seen us perform. Many were our friends. And none were stupid enough to tackle five fully-shifted Felidaekin, especially when one was out for blood.
Not that it mattered. I’d have taken on this whole damn compound for Maya’s honor.
I thrust my face against Smithton’s, growling deep in my throat, and he slid down the balcony shield.
“Don’t hurt me! I swear I had no intention of harming the girl. It was a date. She agreed. She came to my quarters for a drink, you can check with the guard downstairs. It was after hours, why else would she be here, if not of her own volition?”
Suddenly I had no further desire to intimidate this Glian in liger form. Instead, I wanted him to face me as a man. The better man.
With a flick, I shifted back. I could sense the instant easing in his tension, though he still cowered on the floor. “Get up, Smithton.”
He didn’t move, so I grasped his shoulder and hauled him to his feet.
His glance darted to my face, eyes bulging in fear, but didn’t dare settle. “I promise you, it was consensual,” he whined.
“Every lie you utter makes me want to hurt you more. Right now, I’m set on maiming. Do you want to push me further?”
He shook his head miserably, but his calculating gaze swept me quickly, as he tried to work out what I’d do.
He probably decided that an unarmed, naked man with a bleeding gash across his stomach wasn’t such a formidable adversary, regardless of size. He stiffened his spine a little and tugged his uniform straight, as though it wasn’t soaked in his own urine.
Idiot. Even though I wasn’t in cat form, he was still my mouse. I was toying with him. Allowing him to think he was free.
He licked at his narrow lips. “You’ll be hauled up in court for this, Ligerkin. I’ve friends in the judiciary. I’ll have them bring back the death penalty.”
“Actually, you’re going to tell everyone you got wasted, fell over on your pretty outdoor balcony furniture, and cut yourself on broken glass.”
“Why the hells would I do that? I’ll see you—and all your filthy, crossbred type—in jail before the sun rises.”
I sneered in his face. “Really, Smithton? You’ve watched us change enough times now, you little pervert. You’ve seen what we can do. If I honestly thought you were a threat, do you believe you’d be breathing right now? You’re no risk to me, so I’ve only come to warn you. If you ever so much as look in Maya’s direction again, your head will be viewing your body from several feet away.”
He licked his lips again, the click of his dry tongue against the roof of his mouth audible as he summoned bravado. “You’re all talk, liger filth. Which one of us is injured?”
“And which one of us is covered in piss?” I countered.
He shrugged. “I can change my uniform—” his face darkened as he gestured toward his ruined dressing room, and he altered tack. “Why would I go along with your story?”
“Because if your lies slur Maya’s reputation, I’ll add to the injury you’re reporting.”
“Reporting?” He lifted one shoulder, his eyes a little crazed.
“You’re really not paying attention, are you?” I closed the few inches between us and shook my head, only the tiniest movement. “I told you your story. You fell and cut yourself.”
“But I don’t have any inj—” His eyes went to the hand I’d lifted slightly from my side, and his knees gave way.
I had to grasp his upper arm with my other hand to keep him upright. He shook his head rapidly, not taking his gaze from the one curved claw I’d exposed with my partial-shift. The weapon gleamed white in the moonlight.
It wouldn’t be white for long.
“You don’t have any injuries, you were saying?” I practically purred at him. Slowly and carefully, I carved a crescent from the center of his forehead, out to his temple, down his cheek. Followed his jaw line to a point in the middle of his weak chin. The cut wasn’t too deep. Not even too painful, though his screams would make it seem otherwise.
But it was enough to make certain he’d be forever branded with a C.
Coward.
As I released him, he dropped to the floor, a hand clapped to his face as he moaned. I could see he peered up through his bloodied fingers, though.
I needed to make sure he understood the lesson, was persuaded by my threats without me having to take it any further because, actually, it’d cause a shit storm if I did kill him. Even though I had to question just what the hell we were doing here, our government had hired us to his government. So, diplomacy, and all that shit.
I dropped to my knees beside him, ignoring the stab of pain across my stomach.
That was the thing about regeneration, it didn’t diminish the damn pain, just made the wound less likely to be lethal. And right now, this one was hurting like a bitch, which wasn’t improving my mood any.
“Are we quite clear?” I ground out. “If you so much as breathe near Maya again, there are no second chances. I’ll carve you up before I take your head.”
Knowing that he always reacted with fear when any of us changed, despite the pain I shook my head, roaring as I shifted. Then I stood astride him like he was my kill. Thrust my snout into his face, my lips drawn back from my fangs in a snarl.
His eyes showed white as they rolled into the back of his head.
I was pretty damn sure he was persuaded.
Chapter Six
Maya
O kay, so that was a stupid move on my part. My cheeks burned. Why had I dry humped Herc? Well, not exactly dry humped, but still. In front of the cameras, even. He might be far taller and broader than me, but the cameras caught us approaching the building, stopping by the wall, and then him moving close to me. It was clear we weren’t examining the construction aspects of the building. Security would have to be duller than a sluggish, armor-plated desert narlol to miss what was going on.
Who knew what Herc thought about the incident. Because, while I’d enjoyed it, the whole thing had been decidedly one-sided. Not that I’d missed the steel rod jutting against his camo pants.
But he hadn’t taken me, even when he must have seen I would’ve let him. Instead, he’d remained in control.
Why couldn’t I have maintained control, instead of giving into the wild, wanton woman inside me who shoved herself forward whenever he came near?
If I was wise, I’d avoid him from now on. My self-esteem couldn’t handle another semi-rejection.
Yet the hum deep inside me suggested it could deal with rejection anytime, as long as it came with the same conclusion.
I groaned and raked my hair back, off my face, securing it with a band.
Enough of this.
I strode across my tiny one-room efficiency, banging my thigh on my bed as I scooted past it to reach the closet.
After a year sharing a narrow cave with two other women, this room had felt palatial. Like I was royalty or something.
But, now, confused and upset about my recent behavior, the room choked off my breath. Maybe later I could escape through the secret tunnel that led under the perimeter wall. I hated the tunnel, it was so narrow I needed to lie on my stomach and drag myself across the dirt with my fingers digging into either side of the rocky walls. But I was desperate for the freedom of running in the desert, which had been my release since my family escaped from under the strict controls of our local Regime and moved into the caves.
Sure, it was dangerous. Our desert hosted all
kinds of creatures. Like, herds of pillions. Herbivores, the fleet-footed creatures usually ran from people. But if they had young—which they gave birth to on a frequent basis—they’d be just as apt to chase you down and stomp you flat with their hooves. And then there were the vipers, enormous snakes who erupted from the sand and snatched you up in their razor-sharp teeth. They’d drag you back down underneath the sand and keep you there until you smothered. They’d leave you to rot before returning to eat you.
But nothing compared to the Regime soldiers who were determined to hunt us down until not a single Resistance fighter remained.
Somedays, I wondered how I was still alive.
But my muscles needed the workout, and my heart needed to forget.
From the nondescript bag I'd tucked inside the back of my closet, I pulled out a dark shirt and pants and quickly dressed. Because it made a great cover, I snatched up my medical bag from where I’d left it beside the door as I rushed through. If questioned, carrying it would explain why I was out so late at night. And, while the bag contained all the usual medical equipment and everything I might need to treat a patient, it also contained a few extra things I’d set aside to complete my mission.
The Resistance had worked hard to create my disguise.
Cracking my door, I studied the vicinity. Nothing moved, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t be observed.
Awareness crackled down my spine, keeping me on hyper-alert.
As I slunk through the shadows, moving past the other residential buildings, I kept my pace steady, giving the impression I was attending to an important medical matter. Holding my breath even, while my heart thudded furiously in my throat.
I needed to be done with my mission and back to my room before Herc returned. He couldn’t know I’d been out while he was gone.
The complex housing—no, where they tortured—the captives, was constructed of the same desert-colored stone as the other official buildings, unlike the outlying residential shanties, mostly hovels made of board and tin. Few walking by on the path would suspect what went on here once the sun set. Unless the screaming gave it away.
I stood in the shadows of Building D, peering toward my destination. The sole guard on duty had stilled and was staring my way. Holding back my fear, I pressed myself against the wall and prayed he’d move on. He couldn’t see me, could he?
After a moment, he huffed and pivoted. He sauntered along the front of the building, following the path that encircled it. He turned the corner and continued down the side.
No better chance than now. Tightening my grip on the bag, I darted across the open area separating the residential buildings from this section of the compound. I raced up to the door, my breath coming faster than it should after so little exertion.
My heart pounded against my ribcage and sweat trickled down my spine.
The roar of a great cat somewhere behind made me pause. My skin peppered with gooseflesh. I squinted over my shoulder, trying to pin down the sound, which seemed to have come from inside the compound, not outside.
A different kind of beast hunted nearby. Herc.
“Ignore it and hurry,” I hissed as I punched in the door code.
Access Denied.
No. Teeth clenched, I typed it slower, hoping I’d only entered the numbers incorrectly the first time.
From my left, measured footsteps approached, getting louder every second. The guard would catch me. Question me. I could show him my medical bag, but it was doubtful he’d believe I’d been sent to lend medical assistance to someone inside. A wounded Regime soldier would go to the clinic, not demand a visit here from one of the nurses.
Well, other than Smithton, who had no problem demanding any damn thing he pleased from us all.
The door clicked open, and I brushed the hair off my sticky face. Before the guard could round the corner, I ducked inside and carefully closed and locked the door behind me. The lack of internal lighting aided my cause, allowing me to suck myself into the corner between the wall and the doorframe. I held my breath as heavy steps approached. A shadow swept across the long, narrow window beside the steel door. The footsteps stopped, and the man grunted. A whisk was followed by the essence of a munga drifting in from the air vent above the door. Good. If he suspected I was here, he wouldn’t take time to smoke.
I hurried down the hall that connected with the one I’d entered what felt like eons ago but was only earlier this morning. The bag slipped in my sweaty palm, and I clutched it tighter. At the end of the hall, I entered the code on the access panel. Speeding down the next hall on light feet, I skidded to a stop at the end.
This was the penultimate test. Would the second, more secure code, work on the final checkpoint?
My heart rising into my throat, I entered the numbers on the touchpad.
Yes.
One door to go.
I bounded into the corridor, passing rooms that reeked of sweat, terror, and death. If a Resistance sympathizer hadn’t supplied us with a map of the interior, I would’ve wasted time stopping to peer through the narrow slit of glass in each door, seeking my target.
While there was a chance someone was tied inside, awaiting torture, I knew the C.O.’s primary collaborator had been called away early this morning. A family emergency, or so he’d been told. A notification arranged by the Resistance. The scrambled message had come through on my secret com just past midnight last night, saying today was the day. We daren’t trust the henchman to be gone more than twenty hours. When he discovered the ruse, he’d come back and take his anger out on the captives.
The final hurdle. Gnawing on my lower lip, I slowly typed the last code. I had no way of knowing if it had been changed.
A soft click, and the door released.
I briefly swiped my face with one hand and then proceeded forward. The heavy pall of blood, feces, and bitter tears greeted me. As well as distant moans.
Selina. My heart cried my older sister’s name. Would I be too late to save her and my friends?
I crept forward, my palm heating my short blade. The time for bluffing had passed. I’d been told they hadn’t stationed guards in this part of the building but I would not take chances. I’d act now and ask questions later.
I smelled them before I found them. My eyes stinging with unshed tears, I approached the cell at the end of the hall. Steel bars stabbed up and down, secured too closely together for even a small child to slip through.
Stopping just before I could be seen, I took shallow breaths in through my mouth and tried to control my heartache, my breathing, my rage. How dare the Regime do this to my friends? My people.
With renewed determination, I strode forward. If Selina and the others could face daily torture, I could face them.
About forty people subsisted like armatotes inside the cell. Most lay curled up on the floor, while others huddled on the low bench spanning the back wall. They were a mess of torn clothing and exposed skin covered in dirt, blood, and bruises.
“Selina,” I whispered. I couldn’t find her blonde hair among those inside. My lungs shuddered. Was I too late?
The face of someone leaning against the bench lifted.
“Maya?” My sister squinted at me. “Is that you?”
Her hair was so dirty, it appeared brown.
She struggled to her feet, then wavered. I worried she’d fall. Placing one foot carefully in front of the other, she slowly made her way to me. What should’ve taken eight steps took her twenty, each more painful than the last. When she reached the bars, she grabbed them in both hands. Held herself up. She leaned her forehead against them while she caught her breath.
My chest squeezed tight. I’d come too late. Why hadn’t I ignored the directive to wait until I was given the all clear, and found a way inside a week ago?
I gulped back the horror rising in my throat, choking on my nausea.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
She shrugged. “S’okay. I knew you’d get here as soon as you could.”
Dropping the medical bag at my feet, I stooped down and unzipped the top. “I brought everything.” I grabbed handfuls of bandages and ointment and passed them through the bars to her and the two men who joined her. “This, too.” A packet of high-protein bars. Not as many as I’d like, but I’d barely managed to smuggle those out of the cafeteria. The Regime watched everyone.
“Thank you,” Selina said. Her words came out jumbled, as if she had a hard time making her tongue work. Had they hurt her inside her mouth, too?
“And this.” I handed through the smallest package, a red box labeled wound-seal. “You know what to do with it.”
A brief smile flitted across her face as she sagged against the bars. The man behind her reached out to hold her upright while the other took the box, staring down reverently.
“Knew you’d come through,” Selina said with a trembling laugh.
“Will you be able to run?” I asked.
“Have to, right?”
I wrapped my hands around her fingers still clutching the bars. Squeezed tight, wishing I could hold her in my arms. My sister. My best friend growing up. How could I bear to see her like this now? With determination, I stiffened my spine, and said, “Once I know you're free, I'll follow.”
“Stay safe,” Selina said.
I wasn't worried about me. All I could think about was helping my friends and sister escape.
A clang rang out from further down the hall. My pulse ground to a halt as fear bolted through me.
“The door,” Selina said feverishly. “Hide and then get out of here.” Reaching through the bars, she pushed me. Not hard enough to make me move, but with enough urgency I knew she'd trade her own life to save mine.
I’d do the same a thousand times.
I hastily zipped and lifted my nearly empty medical bag. But when I should run, I lingered. “I don't want to leave you.”
A full smile lifted her lips. “Don't worry. You've given us exactly what we need.”
I swallowed deeply and backed away, refusing to turn until I'd memorized her dear face. “Love you.”
