Ava’s eyes grew so wide when they met his that he could see the whites all the way around her brown irises. What’s happening?
Ava. His body began to tremble with dread and remorse. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know they were going to do this. I swear to you I didn’t.
Ziv’ri spoke, his hands now tight around the bars of his cell like Jak’ri’s. It never even occurred to us that they might punish you for our offense.
Though she must know it was futile, she struggled against the manacles. What are they going to do?
Saekro took the shock wand and held it above her. Blue light crackled from the tip.
Oh shit. Is that a—?
Saekro touched the wand to her shoulder.
Every muscle locked as electricity burned through her small body.
Jak’ri wanted to growl and snarl and curse the drekker, demanding he stop, but worried such would only encourage him.
Saekro raised the wand.
Ava slumped against the table, breath coming in pants, muscles twitching.
Then Saekro touched the wand to her thigh.
Again her muscles locked tight.
I’m so sorry, Jak’ri chanted over and over again. I’m so sorry, Ava. I’m so sorry. I’m going to kill them for this. I’m going to kill them all.
Saekro raised the wand.
Ava panted, muscles twitching even more. Not if I kill them first.
Saekro touched the wand to her tender, still recovering stomach.
Ava screamed, the agonized sound tearing Jak’ri apart.
“Enough!” he bellowed, unable to stop himself. “Enough!”
Saekro raised the wand.
Ava whimpered as the muscles of her stomach continued to twitch and contract. Tears streamed down her temples and dampened her hair.
Saekro stared at him, then at Ziv’ri, and arched a brow. “Is it?”
“Yes,” Ziv’ri growled.
The scientist’s expression darkened with a combination of anger and satisfaction. “Try to escape again, refuse to cooperate in any way, and she will be punished in your stead. Each offense you commit will exact a greater punishment than the previous.” Again he lowered the wand to her stomach.
Blue light flickered. Ava screamed again as her muscles locked.
The grunark held it even longer this time.
“I said enough!” Jak’ri roared.
Saekro raised the wand and smiled in triumph. “We shall see.” He turned to the guard. “Throw her in with the older one. Let them live for a time with what they’ve wrought.”
The guard unclamped the manacles and jerked Ava up. When he tugged her off the table, her knees buckled. Swearing, the big Gathendien looped an arm around her waist and half-carried half-dragged her over to Jak’ri’s cell. “Get back,” he ordered.
Jak’ri immediately withdrew to the center of his cell, wanting to give the burly grunark no reason to harm Ava further.
Once the guard disabled the lock, he opened the gate and tossed Ava inside like a pile of old bedding.
Jak’ri lunged forward and fell to his knees, barely managing to catch her before she hit the ground. The rough texture of the floor scraped his knees. But he didn’t care. Holding her close, he watched the guard close the gate and reactivate the lock.
Afterward, the guard tugged his fallen colleague to his feet and helped him return to his post outside the door.
Saekro turned to Kunya. “We won’t be able to take more samples from her today. Let us go analyze those we have again and see where you drekked up.”
Kunya’s thin lips tightened with annoyance.
Then the two left, the door sliding shut behind them.
Jak’ri rose onto his bleeding knees and scooted closer to his brother’s cell. Sitting on his pallet with his legs crossed, he settled Ava in his lap as gently as he could and held her while her muscles continued to twitch and tears bathed her cheeks.
Ziv’ri sat beside them in his cell. His throat worked in a swallow. His silver eyes glimmered with remorse. Reaching through the bars, he took one of her hands in his.
Jak’ri brushed damp hair back from her face, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Ava.”
Giving her head a little shake, she stared up at him. “S-Sorry I wasn’t stronger.”
The whispered words hurt him so much she might as well have driven a knife into his chest. He had caused this. He and Ziv’ri. Yet she was apologizing because she hadn’t been able to overpower a Gathendien thrice her weight? “You were strong enough to nearly make that grunark choke to death, which was more than my brother managed to do.”
“Hey,” Ziv’ri declared with false affront, “I can’t help it if I didn’t hurt my guard as much as Ava did hers. I’m delicate.”
Jak’ri snorted. “Delicate, my ass.”
“Based on the number of times I’ve kicked it, I’d say your ass is delicate,” his brother said.
Though neither felt like joking, the banter did what they’d hoped.
Ava smiled as she closed her eyes.
Ziv’ri squeezed her hand. “Did Jak’ri tell you about the time he landed us in a fight that pitted the two of us against eight Akseli mercenaries?”
Jak’ri groaned at the memory.
Ava’s smile widened. “No.”
“Well, it happened on Promeii 7.”
“What doesn’t happen on Promeii 7?” Jak’ri retorted.
Ziv’ri laughed. “True.”
As his brother embarked upon his tale, Jak’ri stroked Ava’s hair, offering what comfort he could. Her tears ceased. But her face remained pinched with pain even when she smiled over their dubious exploits.
Jak’ri met Ziv’ri’s gaze.
Though his brother’s voice remained light and was sprinkled with laughter, his eyes burned with rage.
The three of them needed to get the drek out of here before those grunarks killed them.
But every attempted escape they’d hatched thus far had failed.
How could they attempt another without further endangering Ava?
Ava didn’t find Jak’ri on Purvel when she slept. Instead horrific creatures filled her dreams and tried to kill her. Every time she found a weapon to fend them off with, it failed her. If she grabbed a stick, it snapped when she swung it. If she found a knife, the blade broke on the creature’s hide. If she found a semi-automatic handgun, it jammed.
Pain began to claw at her as consciousness seeped in and dimmed the nightmares. So much pain that she actually thought she’d prefer to keep fighting the damned monsters in her dreams if that would keep the agony at bay.
Alas, she couldn’t.
Moaning in protest, she turned her face tighter into the warm blankets.
No. Not warm blankets. A warm chest. Someone held her.
A male voice murmured soothing words as a hand stroked her hair.
Jak’ri.
Sighing, she relaxed against him. Then her eyes flew open.
Wait. Jak’ri was holding her. Not in a dream, but in reality. She blinked, then swore foully and swore some more as the events of the previous day—or what she assumed was the previous day—hit her. Those sorry sacks of crap had shocked her repeatedly while they made Jak’ri and Ziv’ri watch. Every time her stomach muscles had contracted it had felt as if someone were driving knives into the partially healed incision sites. Those bastards had tortured her!