by Tracy Lauren
“And if I die in this training?” I demand. “Is The Oscillion going to be cool with you killing me five minutes after he kidnapped me?” I grab two half-full liquor bottles and peer over the lip of the counter. Narron toys with a small statue and I stand to fling my bottles at him. I get both mine off and duck just before the statue shatters. I’m on my feet again quickly after that, chucking bottle after bottle in easy reach at Narron as he runs to dodge my attack. They break all around him, and while none make contact there’s so much damned glass it’s got to be all over him, tiny painful slivers stabbing into that scarred flesh of his. Good, Goddamn it, good.
Then the fucker picks up an entire side table, carved from heavy wood. I freeze, shocked and disbelieving that he’s even about to try it. But when he hauls his arms back, the disbelief is shoved from my mind. I run, heading for the balcony.
The table crashes into the bar, the sound of the forceful collision echoing throughout the room. Yet still, I hear Narron’s feet pounding the tile in close pursuit. For half a second, I think of just diving off the balcony and ending it all. Instead, I grab one of those gauzy curtains as I run past it and use my momentum to swing around the pillar. The full force of my weight, plus momentum, rams my outstretched feet into Narron’s chest. He stumbles back. I can tell by the look on his face that he didn’t expect me to double back towards him. He didn’t expect me to physically attack him.
His face softens and he breaks into peals of laughter. Still, he grabs me and spins me around by the shoulders before sending me sprawling onto the ground with a swift kick to the ass.
“Two/two. First to three wins and then we will begin working on blocking during hand to hand,” he says, still laughing. I roll onto my back and look up at him.
“What’s so damn funny?” I ask.
“I suppose I see it. You will be underestimated,” he tells me, growing serious again quite suddenly. “But that is too flimsy a thing to count on for survival.”
“Joke’s on you, Narron, I don’t plan on surviving this,” I say, just before I swing my leg up in a kick that connects directly with his family jewels. He stumbles back, cradling his member. I climb to my feet and rub my sore ass, eyeing Narron as he tries to recover.
“I think that’s my game,” I say icily.
Chapter 33
V
And that’s how it all started, my training that is. At first it was just in my room—which no longer resembles the luxurious place Dax brought me on our first day here. Now it looks more like the aftermath of some rock star’s hotel room party. Since then our training quickly expanded.
Narron takes me out into the desert often now, to the bottoms of the canyons to work on different terrain. The asshole chases me across the shadowy chasm, chucking boulders at me. Talk about cardio… Though, I must say, I know his aim has to be better than he tries to lead me to believe. If he really wanted to hit me with a boulder I’d be dead ten times over by now. That knowledge doesn’t make it any less scary, though. One misstep from me and he could accidently brain me with a rock.
We also frequent the markets to work on stealth and how to avoid detection when trailing a target. Sometimes he asks me to try and pick his pocket without being caught. I haven’t been able to yet.
It’s an eerie feeling walking in and out of the shops with Narron, like friends might do at the mall. But it’s a lie, an illusion for anyone who might see us. I’m not his friend and he is not mine. I’m his captive.
Any and all talk between us consists of harsh instruction, and while I can sometimes make my trainer laugh, it’s usually at my own expense. Every morning he comes to fetch me and it isn’t until the sun sets on Quar that we part ways, but the time we spend together hasn’t facilitated any type of a bond between us. Narron has made it abundantly clear that, while he puts up with training me, he is not in my corner, but in The Oscillion’s.
Anytime I try to ask about Dax or question the big plan, I’m met with a cold, hard slap to the face that sends me flying. I’m so used to Narron hitting me that I don’t even cry anymore. No, as a matter of fact, the only thing that bothers me about his slaps is the fact that I know he has never used his full strength on me—though I wouldn’t call him on it. I mean, I don’t want him to use his full strength on me, but I know if I go head to head with an enemy of The Oscillion’s they won’t hold back. In the long run, while Narron’s covert precaution with me is appreciated, I worry that it might end up costing me very dearly.
Time does what it does. It passes. It’s quick during the days when at least I have training to keep me occupied. But it’s painfully and sickeningly slow at night. I can’t bring myself to sleep in the bed. It feels like an exposed and dangerous place to be, just lying there in the middle of the room. Instead, I draw the curtains up tightly around it (that way if I ever do have an intruder they will go for the bed first) and I sleep on the floor in a slim crevice behind a couch and against a wall, hoping to God Narron never comes in early to find me like this, hiding every night like a child.
As days turn into weeks neither Narron nor I grow to hold the same vision as The Oscillion: that I will somehow be the start of his own personal all-female elite guard. The idea remains just as absurd as it was the day he stole me from Dax.
Dax. All this time has passed and I’ve gotten no word from anyone on how he is. I still cry myself to sleep each night, missing him and hating the unfairness of it all. I found love in all this chaos only to have it ripped away. On particularly bad nights I question if Dax is still alive. And though I ask every day, often earning myself a rough slap, Narron refuses to speak to me on the subject. I can’t even ask The Oscillion, because I haven’t seen him since that fateful night when Dax was first stolen from me. So, unless someone decides to volunteer the information, I just have no way of knowing where Dax is or what he’s going through.
Another dawn slips slowly into my room, chasing out the night’s shadows. Narron’s knock comes early, and I hurry to finish my braid as I open up the door. He isn’t the type to wait around for a girl, so I make haste.
“Come, we have an appointment,” he tells me. I tie off my braid and follow him into the hall, down the steps, through the fancy hotel that doesn’t give a shit if they keep me prisoner in their “tower” as Narron calls it. We step out into the early morning light. Narron mounts his bike and I climb onto the back.
“I’d ask where we’re going—” I start.
“But you know better,” he says, cutting me off with the ripping roar of his alien motorcycle. I don’t have to ask in any case. When we turn away from the market and Narron points us toward the rocky mountains on the outskirts of the trading post, I know where we are going. To the Oscillion’s fortress. My heart races and my anxiety makes me sweat more than the desert sun ever could.
Does The Oscillion want to see me? Why? Am I in trouble, or is he just looking for an update on my progress? Am I allowed to ask him about Dax? A thousand questions swirl in my mind, but I don’t bother asking Narron. Time will tell before he does.
***
Dax
The window slides open and the day’s protein rations and water are tossed inside. I dive for the opening. Though I cannot fit through, perhaps if I could just wrap my claws around whoever is outside I could tear pieces of them off to bring in here with me. While it isn’t an escape plan, the idea of it is still very satisfying.
My chains prevent me from doing anything more than scraping the tips of my claws against the window. They’re my third set. Twice now, I’ve worked hard at the links to break them. Twice now, whoever guards me has noticed and shot a tranq dart through the window. When I awoke the chains were replaced and I was still alone in the dark.
My first days here were spent raging so hard that I coughed up my own blood. Since then I have taken on a different approach. I try to strategize, to plan. It is a frustrating task, given that I have no information to use as a foundation.
What I wouldn’t give for The Oscilli
on to come and reveal his master plan to me. All I need is an opportunity to present itself, but there are no opportunities in this dank little cell. There is only me, here in the darkness, listening to the drum of my core beat out of time in the absence of my mate.
I close my eyes and think of V. I imagine her soft brown mane and the way her vibrant green eyes shine whenever happiness reaches them. Just the thought of her gives me strength as the days bleed together, though the pain inside me is gut-wrenching. I am desperate to know what fate has befallen her. In my core I know she lives; if she were dead surely, I would be too. Such is the link to my mate. Unfortunately, there are many terrible things between life and death, especially for a female.
Since my capture I have become something else. I am a monster, made of rage and fear. For the first time, I think I understand what it is that V herself has been feeling since she was taken from her world. The helplessness is as consuming as the desire to lash out.
All I can do is wait in the darkness and ready myself to take any opportunity that becomes available. It may take many more days, but eventually they will slip up and I will be ready when they do. In the meantime, I let my conscious thoughts shift from sadness and fear, to white-hot rage. I pace the short distance my chains allow me to reach in agitation. I think of The Oscillion and how I will eviscerate him once I escape this place.
My sweet V. I will come for you.
Chapter 34
V
“Ah, my sweet V!” The Oscillion calls happily across his office as Narron leads me in. I bite my tongue and hold back an inhuman growl that threatens to escape me. I have to kiss this guy’s ass…no matter how much I’d rather just murder him.
“How is Dax?” I ask.
“His state is unchanged,” The Oscillion answers vaguely, and I see a muscle in his neck twitch.
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” I ask through gritted teeth.
Narron tightens his grip on my arm. “Now is not the time,” he tells me under his breath.
“He lives, if that is your concern. But Narron is right, now is not the time to discuss our friend Dax. Today is all about business, V.”
Though The Oscillion smiles at me as he speaks, there is something grave about his tone that signals this is the end of any conversation we might have today surrounding Dax. My heart sinks in my chest. I wanted to ask to see him, to talk to him, or at least send a message. But no matter how bad I want that, I refuse to press my luck when something so precious hangs in the balance. If there was ever a time for me to be strong, now is it. I have to get through this. For Dax.
Narron pushes me in front of the desk and The Oscillion stands, making a wide circle around me, assessing me with obvious pleasure from head to toe. “It appears that she has been making gains,” he says to Narron.
Narron shrugs noncommittally. “You know my thoughts on the subject,” my trainer tells The Oscillion. I shoot an outraged glance at him. I know we aren’t friends, but sheesh, does he really have to throw me under the bus like that?
“I would like to see her in action,” The Oscillion says, striding over to sit on his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. All eyes are on me, waiting expectantly. I shift on my feet, feeling like I missed my line.
“What do you—” I begin to ask, but Narron takes that as his opportunity to strike at me. I dive inelegantly to the floor to avoid his fist. My movements aren’t pretty, but no one is teaching me how to be pretty. They’re teaching me to fight…to stay alive.
I skid to a stop next to a spindly little side table and I don’t hesitate to grab the thing and fling it at Narron. He strikes it down from the air brazenly with his forearm and the table splinters everywhere. The beast of a man pauses for a moment. From weeks of training with him, I recognize this as his tell. He’s about to charge at me. I counter by charging him at the same moment, but instead of running full force into the wall that is his chest, I drop and slide past his legs at the last possible second. Though his fingertips graze me, he’s not able to haul me up off the ground and I end up behind him.
This isn’t the polished choreography of a Hollywood action film. If anything, it’s a horror flick and I’m the poor dumb broad scrambling for her life. Regardless, I’m behind him. If he were any other alien I might have an opportunity to get the drop on him. But this is Narron, and his back and shoulders are like a damn mountain. I’d have to drop a fucking anvil on him to do any damage. However, I do realize I’m now between Narron and The Oscillion and my target changes. I decide quite simply what I’m going to do. I’m going to kick that Oscillion motherfucker in the face.
I imagine Narron has already swung around, expecting to face off with me. I wonder if he’s surprised when he sees me take a running leap towards old Osc. Funny thing is…The Oscillion doesn’t look surprised at all. As I swing my leg up to connect with him, his face doesn’t contort with angry realization. No…the son of a bitch looks calm. That alone is enough to make my insides recoil, but it’s too late to stop the motion of my body. Well, it’s too late for me to stop it, not The Oscillion.
I didn’t even see him move. Just the same, one second I’m flying at him and the next he is gripping my ankle up over my head and my back is on the ground. His hold on me is so effortless it’s frightening and I just lie there, blinking up at him in surprise.
“You need to fully extend your limbs during an attack. You will never get the desired results if you hold back,” he says casually, looking down at me. “Straight legs during a kick, got me?” He wiggles my leg like I’m his damn puppet, physically showing me how straight it should have been. He lets go and Narron is quick to yank me up by my braid. He pulls so hard my feet actually lift off the floor for one painful second, but he sets me down quickly enough. I glower at him. Narron, the damn traitor. He’s on the same boat as I am, a slave to this asshole whether he wants to admit it or not. Yet still, he follows The Oscillion.
“Enough games. I am impressed with your progress. I have your first assignment.
“An assignment?” I ask.
“I do not think she is ready,” Narron states. The Oscillion rests his gaze on me. I try to keep my expression blank, but it grates on my nerves that Narron doesn’t have faith in me. Not that I want to go out and do dangerous stuff. I’d rather just crawl into that safe spot between my couch and the wall, but all I do is train. Day in, day out. I focus on it one hundred percent. It’s the only thing that will keep me alive now that Dax isn’t here to take care of me. And it’s the only thing that will keep Dax alive. Narron doesn’t think I can do it. The knowledge shakes me. If I fail my first assignment, will Dax be the one to pay, I wonder?
“She appears ready enough to me,” The Oscillion says, moving to sit behind his desk and scroll through his tablet.
“Clearly she does not respect her position enough to be sent out into the field yet,” Narron persists angrily.
“Bah, respect,” The Oscillion brushes Narron’s words away. “Give her time to learn her enemies and she will grow to have respect for her allies.” Narron grunts in response and shoots me a disgusted look.
“Fuck you,” I say with a scowl and then turn my attention to The Oscillion. “What’s the assignment?”
“Eager, are you?” He looks up at me with a teasing smile.
“No,” I tell him flatly. “I’m just trying not to die. I imagine being informed helps with that.”
The Oscillion smiles, assessing me for a long time. “The races are soon upon us,” he begins finally.
“That sounds…I don’t know, ominous? I don’t know what that is. What am I supposed to say to that?” I ask, looking between Narron and the boss. Narron groans, rubbing his eyes he puts distance between us. The Oscillion lets out that eerie laugh of his and I’m shifting on my feet again.
“This planet hosts an annual race, V. The Quar Canyon Rally. It is the most financially profitable endeavor Quar undertakes and it brings in thousands of travelers. My hotels overfill and the majority
of our guests spill out onto the desert, sleeping in caravans and tents,” he explains patiently.
“The race is two weeks out and some of the more serious racers and their teams are already beginning to arrive. I need you to gather information from certain pilots—”
“Like interview them?” I question.
“This is absurd!” Narron howls.
“No,” The Oscillion says, gently explaining. “Each pilot keeps one of these.” He holds up a small piece of electronics that looks like a cross between a flip phone and a flash drive. “It stores important information that I will need to gather before the races open. You must find the individuals I name, locate their data chips, download the contents and bring it all back to me without being detected. Understand?”
“Yes,” I say. Though I have no fucking clue how he expects me to get these flash drive things from their owners.
