It had been a long time since anyone outside his team had earned his loyalty or trust. Tyson was now in that tight circle.
Plus, the way the male protected the two younger girls as if they were his own said all Grif needed to know about the male’s worth.
“There’s something going on.” Two guards hurried toward the locked gate at the front of the pen. “Stay close to the girls.”
“Line up!” The Giant’s whip snapped.
Scar Face emerged from the other side of the rock, dragging the girls’ mother and a dark-haired quiet female named Cam, who held her hand against a bleeding cut at her cheek.
Grif’s rage grew.
Scar Face shoved the two females toward Bully. “Secure these cunts.”
Bully shackled them to the long chain that linked all the prisoners together, the small key he used clicking into place with an ugly snap.
Shoulders curled in, both females stared at the ground. The girls’ mother, Luna, did what little she could to protect her children, but she barely looked at them when they were together. Truth be told, she barely looked at anyone, her gaze empty and hollow, as if she’d already left this world behind.
The urge to kill rose, sharp and pure, in the center of Grif’s chest. He couldn’t wait to annihilate all the scumbags associated with this place. Including the furball who’d put him here.
The memory of that glowing spear was one more mistake he’d have to live down. He’d been so caught up in that Boy Scout, White Knight bullshit, he’d failed to see she was no innocent, until it was too late.
Never again.
She was the enemy. He’d gotten that through his thick head now.
Still, he wasn’t entirely ungrateful. Without her interference, he would never have been brought to this place. Never known there were people like the girls in need of rescuing. Or scumbags like the guards and Furball in need of a reckoning.
“Move, you worthless trash!” Bully’s shout cracked down the line. “To the gate now.”
The sharp hiss of air was Grif’s only warning. Lunging in front of Hope, he absorbed the sting at his back, curling his body over hers.
She looked up, her stare a mix of guilt and gratitude.
He shot her a wink. For some reason, she and her sister worried over him. It was unnecessary. His tolerance to pain had been honed long ago.
“I say we move.” He managed another smile. With Tyson at the girls’ other side, he ushered them toward the gate, alongside the other prisoners.
Curiosity hummed beneath Grif’s skin. They’d never been lined up by the exit before.
“Have your pickings ready,” barked Scar Face. “No extra movements or you’ll be sorry.” He shoved the gate wide.
Grif sucked down a breath. Towering over the others in line, it was easy to see what lay beyond.
Her.
Furball was still covered in that strange, shapeless pelt from head to toe, the golden tipped spear gripped firmly in her palm.
This time, however, a massive beast stood by her side. It was so big its back was nearly in line with the top of her head. Its thick, muscled body was reminiscent of the water buffalos that had once roamed Old Earth. Except this beast had six legs, shaggy feathers, and a birdlike face, with a sharp, stubby brown beak that snapped open and shut as it pawed the ground with its webbed feet and long claws.
Grif exploded.
Hands outstretched, he shouldered past the other slaves, dragging the whole, shocked line with him.
His target gasped, her grip white-knuckling around that pulsing spear. The creature at her side reared up on its two hind legs.
The chain at Grif’s neck snapped taut, checking his forward motion.
“Wrong move.” Bully’s thick forearm snaked around his windpipe while the Giant and two others seized his arms.
Grif resisted, refusing to let them win. His gaze locked with iridescent blue, barely visible through the eye slits.
She stuttered back another step.
His satisfaction was short-lived.
Big Ears rushed to the chain that connected him to Hope and yanked, wrenching a cry from the small girl. “Behave. Or it won’t be just you who suffers.”
“I’m listening.” Palms up, Grif let himself be dragged back into line.
Five lashes scourged his skin.
Grif gritted his teeth and stayed motionless.
It was hard, though, to keep from smirking. Especially with the stolen key pressed tight against his palm.
Drawn in by Grif’s distraction, the idiot guard Bully had put him in a chokehold, and Grif had seized the opportunity.
Now, he could unlock his fellow prisoners’ chains and free them all.
He just needed to wait until night when his lock-picking efforts would be hidden by the dark.
Then, it would be the guards who paid.
“Give me that.” Scar Face yanked Grif’s bag of stalks from his hands and marched forward, dumping the meager load into a large brown pouch strapped to the animal’s back.
Furball remained still and silent, her spear at the ready.
“Thanks to this big one,” snarled Bully, “you’ll all learn about true suffering tonight.”
Grif’s chest went tight. The other prisoners had no idea their luck was about to change.
He risked a glance at Hope and Melody. Both girls were pale and shaking.
“Don’t be scared. Those guards aren’t going to touch you.”
They refused to look at him.
The weight on his chest grew, memories clawing at his chest, raking old wounds open wide. The moment darkness arrived, he’d make sure the girls were never terrified again.
In the meantime, he tucked the key into the waistband of his loincloth for safe keeping.
“Grif,” Tyson sidled close, his voice tight with fear, “you’ve gone too far. The girls—”
“Had to be done.” He kept his voice low. “The time is almost at hand.” He could only hope Furball was staying long enough for the suns to go down.
“I don’t…” The man’s spine snapped straight. “Do you mean what I think you do?”
“Yes.” It felt good to be able to offer his friend concrete hope.
“I…I can hardly believe it.”
“Believe it. I’ll see your girls, you, and their mother to safety if it’s the last thing I do.”
“I know you’ll do all you can,” his friend paused, his expression nowhere near as hopeful as Grif would have liked, “but sometimes force of will isn’t enough. None of us can control destiny, and food isn’t the only thing the covered creature takes with it when it goes.”
“You and you! Move it.” Bully’s shout cut off the rest of Tyson’s warning. The guard pointed at two young female slaves near the back of the line. “You’re going with the food. Part of the trade.”
Grif’s gut shrieked into alarm overdrive. Now he understood Tyson’s warning. Furball was a flesh trader, too.
“The big guy, also!” A rough shove slammed into his back. A glance over his shoulder revealed the smirking Giant. “Never pays to be a troublemaker. Especially when it comes around.”
Beside him, the girls wailed.
“I’m not going.”
“You’re going. I’ve been dying to gut you since our first fight, but this will have to do. Don’t worry about the girls.” The Giant cupped his nasty balls. “I’ll take good care of them.”