Gordo’s comment brought Jaron’s attention back to her. A muscle in his jaw flexed as if he was battling for control. Mischka swallowed and backed up. She bumped into Bane who was a solid wall behind her. His hand slid up from her forearm to her shoulder and squeezed. It was not meant as comfort but to keep her from moving further.
Mischka eyed Jaron. He wanted to hurt her. No, kill, she corrected. Her death was in his gaze. She was going to die one way or the other, so she glared back. He had no idea what she’d suffered, what she’d been through. It was easy to place blame when one lived a life opposite of how she was raised on Marenia
Remorse for what she’d done to Jaron haunted her sleep on many nights. She regretted it more than she’d ever be able to say but her failure to break the Jutak had also led to one of her most painful punishments. Her horns. Lifting her bound hands, she rubbed at her temple, feeling the loss as if it was recent and not four years in the past.
Tears burned at the back of her eyes. Lothar had ordered Gordo and Sundar to remind her of what happened when those under his rule failed. They’d removed her horns, her pride, with large blades and without any pain numbing agents. The agony of the moment had left her screaming and begging, blood running down her face. They’d laughed.
She stared at Gordo. He’d laughed the most as he’d kicked her battered body on his way out of the room. She’d vowed then never to beg again.
“We’ve got movement ahead. Not sure how many,” Torkel noted.
“Affirmative,” they replied in unison and pulled knit masks over their heads, obscuring their features.
Readiness vibrated around them. Dressed in the all black uniforms from high collared shirts to the fitted multi-pocket pants and solid looking black boots, Mischka understood the terror they inspired at the first hint of their presence. Jutak warriors were feared and admired equally by those working with and against them.
Torkel pointed at the one named Kyele. “I need you to scout ahead for us.”
“Copy.”
One minute he was there, and the next, a streaming cloud of silver soared away. Mischka stared at where he’d stood, unable to comprehend what she’d witnessed.
“Move on three. My count,” Torkel ordered. “Once we get beyond this area, it’s an open run across the space port to our transport.”
Jaron heaved Gordo around and Bane gripped Mischka by the elbow.
“3...2...1”
The men flowed into motion cautiously but with assured steps. Gordo squawked in outrage at being shoved about but Jaron slapped a hand over his mouth and still managed to keep him moving.
Thankfully, Bane, while firm, wasn’t as harsh in his handling of her. Mischka risked a glance at his face, but his eyes were chips of black and revealed no hint of emotion. None of the humor, none of the charm she’d come to expect.
Anger took root. To think she’d been willing to sacrifice herself for him. Risk Lothar getting a hold of her for failing to notify him of the moment the Jutaks arrived. Her data pad had chirped with the alert stating their shuttle had landed. It was how Mischka had known she needed to hurry back to Bane’s room to fulfill her promise to say goodbye.
She jerked her hands in the plasti-cuffs. This was what happened when you let emotions lead you.
“Are they too tight?” Bane asked in a guttural voice.
Mischka glared. “Do you care?”
“No.”
When Torkel raised his fist, they all stopped. It was a good thing since Mischka was having trouble catching her breath due to Bane’s coldly stated answer. There was a yawning void spreading inside her stomach. She didn’t want to feel this way. She didn’t want to feel at all.
Mischka spun to face him and thrust her chin up. “Is this what your trust means? Judge me without all the details and suddenly I’m not worthy of the smallest decency?”
She was grateful for the fury that flowed through her. The anger stood her in good stead and enabled her to deal with the proof of his fickle nature. Better to have learned now than later.
Gordo snickered somewhere behind her but Mischka ignored him. She knew they had the attention of the others but couldn’t find it in her to care.
“You lost the right to decency after what you did to my friend and teammate. You willfully participated in his torture and abuse under the hands of a madman.” Self-disgust flashed over his face as Bane leaned in to snarl in her face. “Nothing! Nothing you say can justify what you did!”
The unexpected lump forming in her throat expanded. Mischka burned with the need to respond to his words with a heated response, yet she could not deny his claims. It was all true.
Had she thought there was redemption for her? She snort laughed, uncaring of the confusion in Bane’s glittering gaze. Mischka closed her eyes, took a deep breath and let it out. When she opened her eyes again, she spoke in a calm voice. “You’re right. I did that and more. So much more. But I’ll tell you another truth. You are not half the soldier I believed you to be.”
Bane’s lids flickered.
Having said what she needed, Mischka turned her back on him and faced the others who made no effort to pretend they hadn’t been listening. Mischka ignored them too.
Let them have their assumptions. She swallowed down her regret and clung to what she knew as fact, what she believed more than ever.
No man was to be trusted.
Everyone betrayed you at some point.
And lastly...honor didn’t exist.
Chapter 15
You are not half the soldier I believed you to be.
Her words punched through Bane with the force of a shock bomb. The emotion packed in her tightly uttered words left him floundering. It was hard for Bane to see the vehemence in her gaze and not respond to it.
Slivers of doubt eased their way into his conscious. He didn’t know what to believe or how to understand what was going on. Everything was one huge cluster and he didn’t have the time or luxury to detangle it.
Except she’d never looked more vulnerable and it was killing Bane. Her dark hair was disheveled from being jostled about, the bulk of the length hanging in sections about her face. A few red dots speckled her uniform top from where Kyele had cut her and creases marred her crumpled pants in places.
The worst was the plasti-cuffs. On Mischka’s wrists, they appeared obscene next to the silk bracelet he’d created to show her the depths of his feelings. Feelings which now seemed based on lies. Bane wanted to roar out a denial.
“Bane, you good?”
It was Jaron. The blue eyes questioned, no longer filled with the dark glare he’d used on Mischka.
“Yes,” Bane lied.
As if sensing his mood, Torkel signaled them to proceed again. Everyone hustled forward. This would bring their approach from the opposite end of where Kyele should be. The docking station was just ahead and the sounds of fighting were louder.
Several CV-8 transports were in a slanted position for easy takeoff. To the side of them was a dark gray high speed shuttle with a large red emblem declaring it a Marenian vessel. It stood out from the others due to the angle the Marenians had landed, half on the launch pad and half on the artificial paved turf surrounding it.
Bane recognized their own ship as well since it bore a discrete Enotian symbol denoting its military standing. Hopefully, when they reached the ship, they’d be able to assist the CV-8 security team head off whatever ill-fated plot Lothar had devised.