by Anna Hackett
Flashbacks gripped her. Thraxian scientists poking and prodding, pain and screams.
“Sam?” Winter’s concerned voice.
Sam swallowed, trying to fight her way through the flashbacks.
Firm fingers gripped her shoulder and squeezed. She scented Galen and instantly, the memories faded.
“I’m here,” he said. “You’re okay.”
“They…” She swallowed. “The lab at Zaabha wasn’t much fun.”
His fingers stroked her skin. “You aren’t at Zaabha. You’re safe.”
He stayed close, touching her shoulder as the healers got to work on the implant. She heard the cyborgs talking in clipped tones, and the Hermia healers speaking in their melodious, calm voices.
Sam closed her eyes and tried to drift away. She felt the tugging at her skin, but it didn’t hurt. More tugging and her stomach rolled. Dios, it felt just like when the Thraxians had put the damn thing in, except she’d been strapped down and screaming.
“Sam.” Galen’s lips brushed her other temple. “It’s almost over.”
She wanted to lean into his touch. His voice was enough for her to fight to the surface. She was in the House of Galen. She was safe.
“All finished,” Winter said.
“The procedure is complete,” came the modulated voice of Garda, the Hermia healer.
“Already?” Sam opened her eyes and saw Galen’s rugged face.
He nodded and helped her sit up. “You did great.” He glanced at the healers. “I want that implant examined straightaway.”
The medical staff all nodded. Galen looked back at Sam and tilted her face up.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Better. I’m glad it’s over.” He stroked her temple and Sam tried to suppress a shiver. “Galen—”
Suddenly, the doors to Medical opened and several House of Galen guards rushed in.
The lead man rested his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword, his face tense. “Imperator, you’re needed.”
Galen straightened, and Sam’s stomach clenched.
“What’s happened?” Galen demanded.
“A riot has broken out at the House of Zeringei, sir,” the second guard said. “They’re tearing it apart, and everyone is too afraid to help.”
Chapter Six
Galen stormed through the corridor, barking orders at his assembling gladiators and guards.
“All right, let’s get to the House of Zeringei.”
Sam fell into step beside him and he glanced at her. She was wearing fighting leathers, her toned arms on display, and long legs encased in supple, brown leather. The hilt of a sword was visible over her shoulder, sitting snug in the scabbard on her back.
“You’re not coming,” he ground out.
She lifted her chin, keeping pace with him. “I never signed up for you to give me orders.”
“You’re House of Galen now.”
“Yes, so I’ll be a part of this house. And I’ll fight when needed.”
Galen ground his teeth together. “You just got out of Medical.”
“And I’m fine. Over the last few months, I was forced into the arena battered and bloody. Today, I feel good, and I’m choosing to help.”
He stopped and spun to face her, his black cloak flaring out behind him. He sensed his gladiators watching them with avid interest.
Sam stared back at him.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Let’s go.”
A small smile flirted on her lips and she nodded.
As they exited the House of Galen, they broke into a jog, moving through the corridors beneath the arena. As they neared the House of Zeringei, Galen could hear screams and the sound of fighting.
A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he glanced at Raiden. His champion’s face was set in hard lines.
Something terrible was happening inside.
Galen looked back at Sam. She looked steady and determined, exactly how her essence felt. He gave them both a short nod and they rounded the final corner.
The large doors into the House of Zeringei were thrown open. He saw several Zeringei gladiators—big, four-armed fighters covered in silver-gray fur—fighting their own people, including innocent, unarmed workers. The gladiators fought brutally, in an uncontrolled frenzy. The tangled mix of essences slammed into him.
There were several bodies littering the floor and, closest to the door, Galen saw a large gladiator raise two swords over a cowering young man.
Galen charged ahead, jamming his own blade against the other gladiator’s. He’d replaced the sword he’d lost at Zaabha and he saw the blue-green text flare on the blade. The Aurelian short sword was his preferred weapon. Spinning, Galen pushed his weight against the gladiator.
“Stand down.”
Gaze glittering, the gladiator attacked. Galen cut him down.
Around him, the House of Galen gladiators waded into the fight.
He spotted several workers huddled against the walls. “Get to safety! Lock yourselves in the kitchens.”
He spun and saw Sam take down another gladiator. Beyond her, Raiden, Thorin, Kace, and the others were subduing the Zeringei fighters.
It wasn’t long until silence fell over the foyer of the House of Zeringei. The out-of-control gladiators were either dead or tied up and on their knees.
“What the drak happened here?” Raiden muttered.
“Kace,” Galen called out. “Find the Zeringei healers.” There were several injured people who needed help.
The gladiator jogged back after a moment. “Dead or injured.”
Galen cursed under his breath. “Get back to the House of Galen and send our medical team.”
Sam moved up beside Galen. “What a mess.”
Galen scanned the bodies on the ground. For a second, he was back on Aurelia, staring at the dead bodies littering the palace.
“Galen.”
A slim hand touched his arm, pulling him out of the memories.
“We’ll help them rebuild.” Beneath the downed body of a fighter, he spotted the large form of the imperator.
He hurried over and dropped to his knee. He pushed the body off the man. “Tano.”
“G-Galen,” the man croaked. His silver fur was matted with blood.
Galen helped the man up, leaning him against the wall. A huge gash bisected his chest and he was bleeding badly. “We need to get him to Medical.”
“Galen.” Tano grabbed Galen’s arm with two of his hands, his grip weak. “My gladiators…something was wrong. They…went crazy. They’re loyal. They wouldn’t do this.”
Galen nodded. “I’ll take care of it, Tano. You need to focus on getting better. Your House needs you.”
The imperator slumped back and Galen nodded at Nero. The big gladiator lifted Tano and Lore fell into step beside them. They hurried out the door.
Around Galen, the rest of his gladiators were helping the injured and moving the dead into a side room. Finally, Winter and the House of Galen healers arrived, and quickly set to work.
Galen grimly walked the length of the corridor, studying the dead bodies. Innocent workers, new recruits, and several hardened gladiators who’d fought to protect the others. All dead.
He spotted one gladiator who he recognized from the arena. His long, black hair was a tangled, sweaty mess around his rugged face. A talented fighter who’d been one of Zeringei’s best.
Galen crouched, closing the man’s sightless eyes.
Galen felt a warmth right behind him and felt Sam’s legs brush against his back. She crouched beside him.
“Such a waste.” Her sad gaze was on the man’s face.
“You’ve seen a lot of death.”
A spasm crossed her face. “Yes. People who should never have been at Zaabha.” She squeezed her eyes closed. “People I had to kill.”
He gripped her arm and squeezed. “You did what you had to do to survive, Sam.”
She nodded. “What happened here?”
“I don’t know,
but I’m going to find out.”
Then Sam frowned and pushed the gladiator’s hair off his neck.
That’s when Galen saw the tiny, silver circle embedded in the man’s skin, just below his ear.
Galen hissed out a sharp breath. “An implant.”
It was small. Far smaller than the one they’d removed from Sam today.
“This is much more advanced and sophisticated than any of the ones I’ve seen.”
Galen stood. “This was some kind of test.”
Sam rose as well. “A smaller implant is easier to hide.”
Anger spiked through him. “They’d better stay out of my city.” He turned and punched his fist into the stone wall. The rock cracked. Drakking Thraxian scum.
Sam scanned the dead. “Their plans are escalating.”
Galen nodded. “And so will ours.”
Sam leaped off the bed, her fist swinging.
It took her a second to realize there was no Thraxian to fight. And another second to recognize the darkened bedroom.
House of Galen.
She glanced at the timepiece beside her bed and flopped back on her pillows. It had only been thirty minutes since her last nightmare.
Pressing her palms to her eyes, she dragged in some breaths. Her heart was racing, fear clogging her throat. Tears threatened. No. She choked them back. Her mother was a crier, and after watching her mother fall apart when Sam’s father had been sick, Sam had vowed to not do the same.
Fuck this. She tossed off the covers and strode out of her room. She had no idea where she was going, she just needed to move, to breathe.
After the massacre at the House of Zeringei, Galen had been busy. But he’d come to get her in the afternoon to take her to Zhim’s penthouse in the city. The amazing skyscraper wouldn’t have looked out of place in Las Vegas. All glitz and glamor. She’d met the happy, energetic Ryan, and the arrogant, interesting Zhim.
And Sam had spoken with her family.
She reached the empty training arena. It was drenched in moonlight and she leaned against one of the pillars. Grief and guilt slammed into her.
Her mother’s sobs, the tremor in her father’s voice, the sadness in her brothers’ words. A cool breeze washed over her, reminding her that she only wore a thin tank and tiny shorts. Dios, she missed her family.
Sam fought hard with her conflicting emotions. Her grief at missing them, her guilt because she knew they relied on her, and the pinch of shame that a small part of her didn’t miss their neediness. Dios, it was part of the reason she’d gone to Fortuna. But it didn’t matter that they sometimes drove her crazy, she loved them.
She closed her eyes, but there was no relief there either. Her nightmares came back to her: the faces of the fighters she’d been forced to kill, the ragged pain of injuries, and the helplessness of being trapped. No better than a wild dog forced to fight.
“Sam.”
His deep voice came from the darkness.
“I’m fine.” Go away, please. She didn’t want him to see her break.
His arm brushed against hers. He stood beside her in silence.
She swallowed, staring across the arena at the guards patrolling on the far side. “You have a gap in your security by the wall there. Someone could scale it and get in if they know the guard patrol rosters.”
Galen studied the wall for a moment. “You’re right. I’ll take care of it.”
Now, go. Her nails bit into her palms.
But he didn’t. Instead, he stared up at the night sky. “The city lights drown out most of the stars, but you can still see the brightest ones.”
Blinking back the tears she didn’t want to let fall, she looked up.
“That large one over there is called Neridae.” He pointed. “The smaller cluster just over the wall is called the Dancing Sisters.”
“I’m about to break, Galen. Please, leave me alone.”
He turned to her. “So break. You’re entitled.”
“I can’t.” Her hands curled tighter. “I have to be strong and hold it together.”
“Why?”
“Because I always have to. There’s no one to catch me if I fall.” There hadn’t been when her father was sick, nor at Zaabha. “I’m not sure I can pick up the pieces.”
Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. Warmth pumped off him and she almost moaned. She gripped his biceps, holding on tight.
“There are lots of people around you, Sam, and they’re all holding out a hand. After everything, you’re entitled to purge the hurt inside you. It’s okay to lean.”
She saw his face in the shadows, the rugged line of his jaw. “If I break, the pieces may never go back together.”
“Sure they will. There will just be scars.”
She lifted a hand and stroked the scar bisecting his left eye. “Is it easy to live with the scars?”
“Mine are far uglier than yours will ever be, Sam.”
She saw the dead in her head, heard their screams and pleas. “I don’t believe that.” Her voice broke.
He pressed her face to his chest. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
A man who always kept his promises, and yet, still punished himself for the ones he’d failed to fulfill.
A tear slid down her cheek, followed by a sob.
Galen smoothed a hand up her back. “There you go. It’s okay, Sam. You aren’t alone.”
She broke, the cries ripping from her. She cried for what she’d lost, the people she’d killed, the pain she’d suffered and inflicted. She cried until she sagged against him, exhausted and empty.
There wasn’t pain anymore. There was nothing.
Galen dipped and lifted her off her feet. She was too tired to put up a protest.
When he laid her on the bed and started to pull away, she gripped him. “Stay.”
He hesitated.
She swallowed, her eyes feeling swollen. She couldn’t make herself ask again.
He didn’t say anything, just lay on top of the covers beside her and pulled her close.
She’d broken, but somehow Galen had kept all her pieces together. With his strong arms around her, and his scent deep in her senses, she fell into a dreamless sleep.
Sam swung the staff, feet shifting on the sand. It hit against Kace’s staff with a thwack, and she felt the power of the blow vibrate up her arms.
She stepped back, eyeing her opponents. Kace and Saff stood across from her in the training arena, both holding their staffs up. Kace’s face was serious and composed, and Saff was grinning.
Sam moved in again, spinning and ducking. She thrust the staff out. Her muscles were warm, and it was actually nice to spar for fun and exercise.
Kace met her strike and Saff spun, kicking up sand.
Sam leaped back. Here, she could enjoy the sunshine on her face, the pump of adrenaline in her blood, and the challenge of fighting two skilled gladiators.
She attacked again, dropped low and swept her weapon out. As expected, Kace jumped, but Sam moved upward, following him and managed to hit his shins. With a curse, he tripped.
As the big gladiator fell in the sand, Saff leaped over him, rushing at Sam. Sam stepped back, widened her stance, then dropped her staff. She ducked Saff’s weapon, gripped the woman’s leathers, and flipped the female gladiator over her shoulder.
Saff landed flat on her back on the sand. She pushed up on her elbows. “You fight mean.”
“I had to.” Sam straightened. “Or I’d be dead.”
Once, she’d been a by-the-book fighter. She’d joined the military right out of school, followed by a short stint with the International Marshals Service before she’d joined Fortuna Station. She’d been filled with a need to help others, fight for the less fortunate, and help bring justice to those in need.
But Zaabha had taught her that sometimes you had to fight dirty to win the day.
Saff rose, respect in her eyes. “Not anymore.”
Kace was back on his feet and he touched Sam’s shou
lder gently, but didn’t say anything.
Sam felt the burn of tears in her eyes. Dios, she never cried. Well, you fell apart last night. She’d cried all over Galen and then slept in his arms.
When she’d woken from the best sleep she’d had since her abduction, Galen had been gone, just leaving his scent and an imprint on the pillow behind.
Saff and Kace both straightened and turned. She followed their gaze and her breath caught in her chest.
It shouldn’t. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen the man move before.
Galen strode across the sand, that black cloak of his flaring out behind him. He didn’t move with any swagger, like some of the other gladiators. Every step was contained power.
Something inside Sam quivered just looking at him, and she admitted to herself that she really wanted to tear the man’s cloak and leathers off. She wanted to touch his skin and make his heart beat faster.
“We have a meeting.” Galen’s icy gaze swept over them before settling on Sam. It skimmed over her, as if he was assessing how she was. “Rillian and Zhim are here.”
“They have information on the implants?” Kace asked.
Galen nodded.
Sam moved with Saff and Kace to set their staffs on the racks. Several workers were there, cleaning and maintaining other weapons. As always, it was another clear reminder that Galen ran his house well.
They moved through the doorway, and she took a second to adjust from the bright sunshine to the shadowed interior. Galen moved quickly, and they followed him into the living area of the high-level gladiators.
The long table was packed with Galen’s gladiators and all the women.
At the far end, Sam saw Rillian and Dayna, and nodded at the couple. In the kitchen, she spotted a small woman with straight, black hair and some Japanese heritage. She was stirring something in a mug, and appeared to be bickering with the tall, lean, dark-haired man beside her. She’d met computer expert Ryan Nagano and information merchant, Zhim when she’d spoken with her family.
Kace and Saff sat, while Galen moved to stand at the head of the table. Sam took the seat to Galen’s left. Ryan and Zhim moved to join them.
“Rillian,” Galen said. “You have information for us.”