by Elin Wyn
“Send them away,” I forced a laugh. ““You’d made it clear I shouldn’t return when I left school. Maybe you should have told them the same thing.”
His mouth pursed. “It’s one thing for you to have an interest, an education. Another entirely for you to go out to the slums, actually work with the dregs of the empire.” Mother’s fingers patted the edge of his sleeve, but he brushed her off. “It’s time for this foolishness to end.”
Slums? Loree, the rest of my patients on Orem, dregs? The hot spark of anger drove my tongue. “The council is supposed to be working for the people out here, isn’t it? The council isn’t just to represent the citizens of the Hub to the Emperor.”
“You’ve been cosseted, sheltered your entire life. You have no idea how depraved those people are.”
Bitter words sprang to my tongue, but I swallowed them. One thing I’d learned over the last few weeks. Focus on what I could do. And that was always more than I expected.
“There’s no point to this, you know.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He sat back, the smug look I’d always hated branded on his face.
The credit spikes glittered in their padded slots. I pulled one from the case without looking at the position, and held the sharp point to my wrist.
“Tell him to stop the flitter.”
He snorted. “You won’t do anything.”
Digging in, I twisted the spike until blood welled around the tip. “You have no idea what I can do, what I’ve done.”
A crease formed between his eyebrows as he scowled. “Stop this foolishness.”
“There’s nothing foolish left in me anymore.” I dragged the tip down the vein, ignoring the sharp ache. “Tell him to stop.”
I slid off the seat onto the floor as the flitter skidded to a stop, the credit spike flying from my hand. The crunch of metal drowned whatever bile my father had been about to spit at me and the screen split, ending the transmission.
A row of holes ruptured the top of the flitter and, with a wrench, Ronan tore the roof away, his face contorted in rage, the sleeves of his shirt hanging in tatters from his bulging shoulders.
I reached for him and buried my head in his chest as he lifted me away from the wreckage.
“Why do I smell your blood?” he growled, arm tightening around my waist.
“I couldn’t figure out how else to make them stop, I didn’t have anything else to bargain with.”
“We’re going to talk about that. And a few other things.”
The scent of urine filled the air as Ronan pulled the driver up by the throat, his legs kicking uselessly.
“It’s not his fault, he didn’t hurt me.”
Ronan didn’t waver.
“I don’t think my father gave him a choice.”
“There’s always a choice.” Snarling, he tossed the driver to the deck, scooped me up and stalked away.
“Wait!” I struggled to get down, but he was having none of it. “The credits!”
“Don’t care.”
“We’ll need them, I think we need to buy a new ship.”
Muttering, he went back for the case.
It wasn’t much, just a battered cargo ship built long before I was born.
But we couldn’t be picky. We’d needed someone who’d sell for cash, and in a hurry.
“If my father could convince someone to kidnap me from Thantorn, I wouldn’t put it past him to stick a tracker on our ship.”
Ronan grunted, punched the jump coordinates in.
“Besides, I didn’t think you liked the old ship.”
We cleared the station, and, with a soft whirr, hit jump space.
Still, he said nothing, just worked the controls, jaw tight.
Screw this.
“Bunny?” I tilted my head, put on my most vapid look. “I left my new dress back at the hotel. Can we go back and get it?”
He stared at me, then dropped his head in his hands. “What were you thinking?”
“I thought we’d be able to get down, get the bug planted, and, since we seem to be about to go to war, the credits wouldn’t hurt.”
He leaned back, eyes narrowed. “Where the hell did you get four million credits from, anyway?”
“My grandmother.” I tucked my legs up under me. “I’ve always thought her money was why my father married my mother. Void knows it wasn’t for love. But Grandmother couldn’t stand him or his political ambitions, and left it all to me.”
“He’s on the Imperial council?”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “Clawed his way to the top, and was profoundly disappointed that I didn’t want to help him make alliances.”
At the low rumble of Ronan’s displeasure, I reached across to his chair, wove my fingers into his. “After I graduated med school, I withdrew enough to disappear, and never contacted them again.”
“He must have had an alert out for you on all stations to have an agent in place so fast.”
I giggled. “We were pretty occupied last night. They had a little time to work.”
“True.”
His back relaxed, and so did I. We were alright, and that was all I cared about. My parents, my past, none of that mattered any more.
“Why don’t you get some sleep, since I kept you up so late?” He stretched out in the captain’s seat. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”
Since there was nothing else to do, it seemed like a fine idea.
I closed my eyes and drifted off.
“Just quit with the fucking ‘Bunny,’ alright?”
I never thought returning to the Star would feel like coming home, but the faces of our friends when we came out of the new ship into the docking bay made all the difference.
“What happened to the Legacy?” Aeden wondered.
“Couldn’t get the stink out.” I followed Ronan across the floor. “Any problems with our guests?”
“Nope. Conner and Eris found a place to dump them.”
“That ice planet?”
Aeden snorted. “They considered it, but found an Imperial cruiser nearing one of the old Cilurnum stations. Nixie pulled enough data from their old ship that should convict the lot of them three times over.”
We all headed up to the bridge, where Eris and the rest of the crew waited.
“Did it work?” I blurted out, and she grinned.
“Nixie got the codes about an hour before you got back. We’ve been waiting to go in.”
Ronan glared at my bandaged wrist, but didn’t say anything. The men formed a protective arc around us before he called out. “Hey, AI, can you hear me?”
I poked his back and hissed, “Nixie.”
“Fine. Nixie, you there?”
“Hi! Thanks for sending me their data. They have all sorts of interesting things locked in Thantorn. Did you know-”
Ronan’s fingers twitched, but he kept his voice admirably calm. “Nixie, can you open the bridge door now?”
“Oh, sure! Here you go.”
And, silently, the doors slid apart, air rushing in past us with a whoosh.
The bridge had been expansive, control chairs for a dozen crew members were scattered at their stations.
But only one was occupied.
On a slight dais, still in command of her ship, Captain Whorton waited.
Her body had shriveled with time, but her strong features were clear under the close cropped dark hair. Her arms lay almost at ease on the rests of her chair.
We fanned out through the room, Hakon and Eris checking the controls, while the rest of us waited, and wondered.
“Control of the jump drive restored,” Hakon said softly.
“Eris, I’ve found a series of audio messages in the files, locked to this location. Should I play the final one?”
Ronan nodded at Connor’s questioning glance.
“This is Captain Amano Whorton. The bastards took my ship, but I’ll not give them control, not if I can help it. To anyone who finds this, I’m assuming you’re with the com
pany, since you have my code. This is my official testimony: General Melchior and his men took this ship, killed the civilian passengers, and have started converting it to their own use. I’ve done my best to block them from as many systems as possible, but I fear I’ve underestimated the extent of their sabotage.”
A rattling cough interrupted the recording. “Sorry about that. I also underestimated how long I’d be under siege here. Ran out of water a few days back. I don’t think I’m getting out of this. I failed the passengers and crew under my care. There’s nothing I can do about that. But to whoever is listening to this, get the murdering bastard. I’ve attached my military credentials to this recording, it should stand up in an Imperial court.” Another cough, weaker this time. “And that’s about it. Good luck. Make him pay.”
“You did well, Captain,” Ronan murmured. “We’ll do just that.”
The Wolves stood in silence, and I wondered what we’d be able to do. Melchior might have been behind the attack, but he’d be long dead, as well. But someone had been carrying on his work, and that someone would bear the brunt of the Pack’s anger.
“Um, Eris?” Nixie’s bright chatter shook me from my thoughts.
“Not now, Nixie, okay?”
“Really, I think you want this.”
Connor glared at Eris, but she just shrugged. “What did you find?”
“I’ve been scanning for all mentions of wolves or the word Daedalus that seem out of place since we left Skarth. This…” for once the AI seemed at a loss for words. “This is out of place. It’s a post on a forum, no signature.”
A strange woman’s voice echoed through the bridge, low and haunting
“Time bringeth swift to end,”
Ronan’s hand tightened in mine, and every one of his brothers jolted as if shocked.
“The rout men keep.”
One by one, the men recited the words along with the recording.
“Death’s wolf is nigh to rend these silly sheep.”
The voice faded, but the men looked around, an odd gleam of hope in their eyes.
“It’s from an ancient poet-”
“Rumi,” Ronan interrupted. “We know. Doc thought it was funny.”
“There’s an image attached to the message, and an anonymous comm address for replies.”
“Let’s see what the image is first.” Ronan tensed, and I braced for yet another horror.
On the main screen of the bridge, an image resolved of two men standing side by side and grinning. Nothing more.
“That’s Dav and Killian,” Xander shouted, and slapped Ronan’s back. “They’re alive!”
I wasn’t listening, my attention focused on the small park they stood in.
“I know where that is,” I said, voice shaking.
Ronan glanced down. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know if it’s wrong or not, but I’d swear, that’s the little park outside my old clinic.” I looked around at the pack. “They’re on Orem.”
Epilogue: Ronan
I stood on the bridge of our still nameless ship, watching the Star as it flickered, preparing to make its final jump into the sun. A fitting funeral pyre for the captain, my brothers, and the rest of the Hunters’ victims.
Conner and Eris had left with the captive slavers, with Geir, Hakon, and Lorcan along to help with the transfer. Nixie had something planned to get Norman and his crew onto the Imperial ship, and, honestly, I didn’t want to know.
We’d wait for them in orbit around Orem, but, for now, there was nothing to do but watch the past burn.
In the corner of my eye, I caught movement.
“You can’t let it be just about vengeance.” Erich said. “Not anymore.”
He was right, as usual.
“Now it’s about justice,” I answered him, watching him fade, letting him go. “And answers for all of us.”
Nadira came behind me, wrapped her arm around my waist. “Talking to Erich?”
I shook my head, turned away from the Star, from the nightmare.
“Just saying goodbye.” I kissed her hair, breathing in the clean, sweet smell of her. “And preparing for war.”
Letter from Elin
Dear Reader,
I hope you're as happy as I am that the boys are getting back together!
They're taking the battle to the enemy now, and their mates will be right beside them.
In the next book, Geir will scout out the mysterious Compound... and find much more than he ever expected.
If you love hot heroes and smart, brave heroines, you're going to love Craved, because it's full of action and romance!
Get it now - Craved!
XOXO,
Elin
Preview of Craved
"Quit fucking around, Xander."
I knew he could hear me. We all have exceptionally good hearing.
But instead, Xander let the scrawny man with bad teeth keep throwing punches, not bothering to dodge.
Lorcan and I looked at each other and shrugged. No reason to step in.
In the two weeks since we'd been helping Granny Z clean up the mess that infested Orem Station under her grandson’s reign, we'd all had a chance of getting into a scuffle, blow off a little steam. Xander had a little more edge to burn off than usual, that’s all.
A number of trafficking rings had sprung up in the shadow of the Hunters’ activities. If you have one nightmare stealing women and children away in the dead of night, you don't go looking for another.
"Bastards!" A bearded man who’d obviously been taking too much of his own product charged at me, wildly swinging a knife.
I waited, letting him come within range, then knocked him into the tangle of pipes that ran along each side of the twisted corridor.
He went down, stayed down, so we moved on, stepping around the intersection where Xander toyed with his prey.
Further down the passage to the right, a clumsy mechanical lock held a thick door shut, but I tore it off the hinges, Lorcan spinning low and to the left while I swept up to the right.
The stench of unwashed bodies mixed with terror told me what we’d find before I saw them cowering in the corner.
Eight women, eyes vacant and tinged blue.
I scanned the room for threats then stepped back. Lorcan could deal with it.
Criminals pissed me off. I knew what to do about them. But the swath of destruction left in their wake, the addicts and the wounded baffled me. Not my skill set.
I pushed further into the gang’s nest, rooms and tunnels carved out from the hidden spaces between the decks.
Regular troops would be coming behind us, cleaning up what we left. But it's always been my job to press forward, scout, and assess the threats that lay ahead.
While the entire Pack waited for enough data to strike, impatience prickling our skin, these skirmishes would be the best relief we were going to get.
There were no lights in this section other than a few pale flickering balls crudely wired into the station's power lines. The faintly burning smell made me wonder how long it would be until the entire level burned.
A soft scraping sound, metal on metal, it was almost so minor that I could've written it off in the normal pops and hisses of the station’s engineering section.
But it wasn't.
Cautiously, I eased my body between the rows of pipes to my left and eased back the false panel concealing the hidden room. More of a closet really, a last refuge for when everything’s hit the fan.
A dark-haired man, shoulders broad, muscle starting to run to fat glared at me. He wasn't particularly interesting, but the knife he held to the dark-haired woman's throat was.
This one wasn’t fogged by drugs. Her breaths came short and sharp with terror, her eyes clear, beseeching.
"Tell that bitch I want a shuttle off the station or this girl and the others die." His lips pulled back from his teeth in a sad emulation of a snarl. From his clothes and weight, he was probably the leader of this particul
ar band of scum. Thought I’d care.
Thought wrong.
It wasn't worth answering. I waited for him to crack until a hiss in my ear told me his time was up.
"Lorcan, Xander, Gier." Ronan snapped. "Nixie has info for us. Finish what you're doing and get back. All hands briefing in an hour."
Damn.
“Fucking animals, that’s all you are.” Flecks of spit flew from his mouth and his hand trembled.
“Says the man living in a hole in a maintenance shaft,” I tossed back.
His fingers twitched. There.
A twist of my hand released my own blade from the wrist sheath, and with a flick it soared across the room, piercing the asshole’s eye, knocking him away from the hostage.
The sound of the regular troops echoed down the shaft, and I backed away, leaving the woman for them to care for.
Muttering, I rounded up Xander and Lorcan and we headed out. Maybe, if I was lucky, we’d run into another group of dregs on the way, be late.
Because honestly, I’d rather be hunting down psychopaths then sitting through a briefing. Even if it did bring us one step closer to the truth.
From where I watched in a corner of the paneled conference room, I could see all my brothers. At least, all that had survived.
An all-hands briefing should've had us crammed in shoulder-to-shoulder, the ones out on missions remoting in whenever possible.
But this was it. We were all that was left, not even a full unit if you didn’t count the strangers that chance had added to our numbers.
Chatter filled the room. Everyone wanted to know the destination of the old spaceliner we’d been trapped on. Just because we sent it and the damned Hunters who had caught us into the sun instead, didn’t mean we’d forgiven anything.
"All right children, settle down. Let's get started."
I snorted. An old woman, tiny braids spilling out from a bright headscarf and stacks of silver bracelets running up her wrists plopped down at the head of the table. Granny Z looked more like a vagrant than the retired pirate queen that station rumor called her.