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Our vision shimmers as we fly through the oxygen field and into the cargo bay of the ship. The immense doors shut behind us and I shake off the feeling that I’m being interned in a mausoleum.

I stride to Theme and snap my fingers, pointing at the shields, and he directs all power from our engines and life support to the barriers that will protect us from small weapon fire that the crew of this warship might have. With the breach in our hull, there’s no reason to waste power on recycling oxygen.

I swallow, but my throat is dry as I look through the glass of the cockpit.

We’re on an Aurelian warship.

Two Reavers wait like predatory cats. The Aurelian assault ships are beautiful death compared to the brutish ugliness of Toad attack ships. Three more Reavers are being repaired by a triad of towering, marble skinned aliens.

Aurelians.

I hate them. I hate them for what they did to my friend. I’ve always felt drawn to the beasts, dark urges I force down, no matter how deep my attraction is to the species.

I saw what they did to Nami.

She loved a triad. Three huge, powerful warriors. She joined their harem to become one of their many toys, and she thought they loved her, too.

When they found out she was not their Bonded Mate?

She became just another woman to them. She lived there, with a broken heart, and when she left, she was a shell of her former self.

The three warriors continue working on the Reaver like we don’t exist. They must know we have mining beams that could slice them in half in a second. I hate feeling powerless, and seeing three aliens disregard our weaponry like it’s a toy pisses me off.

Using our weapons would be signing our death sentence. Aurelians pay their dues. They have an alien sense of justice, but they mete it out with vengeance.

The heist was supposed to be clean. If these Aurelians are working for the Empire, we’ll never be free again.

“Keep weapons offline,” says Tasha, and she’s probably thinking the same thing as me. If one of our crew gets an itchy trigger finger, we all die. “Don’t put a single percentage of power in them.”

I keep my eye on Theme. He’s the most likely to crack and do something stupid. He’s gone pale, his hands shaking, but he’ll do as he’s told.

We tried to deal with Rogue Aurelians a year or so ago. I warned Tasha not to take the deal. When I couldn’t dissuade her, I made her get payment up front, and arranged to meet on an asteroid where I knew I could hide theWayward Scythe.

Tasha pressed her panic button and I swooped in, all weapons firing, scaring them off just long enough to save my captain. We nearly all died for that deal. She was nearly taken as their property. When we were finally out of danger, she was shaking, her shirt ripped and torn by their hands.

The greedy bastards weren’t satisfied with the deal.

They wanted to takeher.

Rogue Aurelians follow the Old Way. They view human women as nothing more than toys as they search for the one woman who can bear their sons. They don’t fight off the Mating Rage. They lose themselves to it, breeding women until they find the one they can Bond.

A shudder runs through my body.

If these are Rogue Aurelians, it’s not the jail cells of the Empire we have to worry about. It’s being handcuffed in their pleasure chambers, used as they see fit.

My mouth foes dry. The Reavers have no markings. These Aurelians, out in the middle of nowhere, aren’t working for the Empire.

Either they are Independent, forging their own way while abiding to the laws of the Empire…

Or they are Rogue, who follow nothing but their lust.

“Look at the markings on those Reavers,” I say, pointing to the blankness of the hulls.

Tasha gives me a searching look. She’s in captain mode, searching my face for any sign of weakness. She needs to know I have her back. I’m a little shaky. I got flung around when she cartwheeled us to safety, and somewhere along the way I smashed my wrist against the hull. I didn’t realize it at the time, my brain soaked in adrenaline, but it hurts like a bitch. I force myself not to rub it. I want to show my captain she can trust me.

I take a deep breath in, steeling myself. “Those aren’tEmpireReavers…”

If they were, we’d be looking at life in prison. But at least we’d be looking at justice. At least we’d only lose our freedom, and not our bodies.