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Deep down, I know what I’m most afraid of.

It isn’t being Bonded to Garrick and his triad.

It’s that the moment they realize I’m not their Fated Mate, they’ll stop looking at me like something special and precious, and start viewing me the same way they look at a couch or chair.

“Yes,” Theme says, nodding. “Full control.” He yawns. Adrenaline dump. He’s been running on fear since we were pulled intoTheInstigator, and he’s relaxing for the first time since. He gets up, plunking down on the couch that’s pressed against the wall under a long, wide mirror that faces the bed.

I try not to think of the images I’ll see in that mirror tomorrow night.

“Perfect,” says Tasha, clapping her hands together in excitement. We’ll shut every door that isn’t a pathway to the loading bay—and seal all of these marble-skinned bastards behind them.”

Tasha fixes me with a long look, like she’s trying to pick out my innermost thoughts. Even I would blush if those were on display. “Sawoot, we’re going to open your door as well. I know you’ll have been busydistractingthe Aurelians, but you’re going to have a very brief window to get out before I lock them in here behind you. If you can’t get a key to the Reavers, don’t risk it. You getting out safe is all that matters.”

My stomach churns, and it’s not the bitter tea. Outwards, I project the confidence that is my job as first mate.

Inside? It’s eating me up.

What if I can’t get away from them? What if the three, huge beasts hold me down, fucking me senseless until my brain melts with desire?

Garrick and his triad are honorable.

Honor disappears when the Mating Rage takes over.

Tasha scans the room. “Show me how fast you can get from the bed to the door.”

I swallow, needing to lighten my mood. “Who said we’re going to use the bed?” I quip back, and poor Theme spits out his tea, looking down at the couch he’s sitting on. He must be imagining me bent over it.

I follow Tasha’s gaze to the couch, and we’re both thinking the same thing.

Awfully convenient the bed is big enough for a diplomat and three huge Aurelian warriors. I’m guessing in the Galactic War the Aurelians would request female diplomats from the human settlements they kept safe. Diplomatic relations probably involved…quite a bit more exercise than they were used to.

I get up, stretch, and put my tea down to lay in the bed.

Stretching out my full length, I still feel tiny in the huge bed. This isn’t king-sized. It’s made for Aurelian emperors. I suppress a shudder at the thought of Garrick, Markrin and Tar’ank making the huge bed feel tiny as they put their bulks down on it. How it would feel to have my back pressed against the plush material, forced down by five hundred pounds of animalistic Aurelian.

Tasha lifts her finger. My thoughts disappear as I spring into action. I jump out of bed, sprinting to the door. Everything’s made for Aurelians, and it’s a decent distance.

Theme perks up, checking his watch. “Four seconds.”

“Not as good as my track and field days,” I pant, “but not bad.” Oof. I shouldn’t be winded from that dash. I’ve got to do some more cardio.

My track and field days were stealing enough food to stop the gnawing in my belly, running and darting to get away from irate shopkeepers. That’s where I met Tasha growing up, forging the bonds that would later evolve into a friendship closer than sisterhood.

“Alright.” She nods. “We’ll give you ten seconds in case you need to…untangleyourself. Your job is to get out of the room before the doors close. That will separate you from Garrick’s triad. Then, we won’t have to deal with any Aurelians—not unless there are some who happened to be walking along the exact path we’ll be taking to the loading bay.”

Tasha told me Aelon’s plan. With luck, most of the Aurelian soldiers will be preparing to ambush the Toads, and the rest will be at battle stations. We should have a clean break to the loading bay.

Should. Like everything, it’s going to take luck.

Sooner or later, luck runs out.

“And the handful still in the loading bay, fixing up the damaged Reavers,” Theme reminds us.

Fuck. The Aurelians fixing up the ships. How many triads will be there? Three? Four? Even a single triad would be too much for us to handle. It’s a fatal flaw in the plan. “A handful of Aurelians is a lot to deal with—and I should know, because I’ll be coming fresh from exactly that,” I say, trying to air my concerns in a way that won’t give Theme a panic attack.

They both laugh, nervous. Theme stands from the sofa, draining his cup of tea. He puts it down on the table too hard, making it clatter as his hands shake. He’s trying his best to be brave. “I…I could vent the air from the loading bay.”

Tasha’s eyes flash with anger. “No! We’re not killing innocents.”