Page 106 of Galaxy Games Four-Book Box Set (Galaxy Games)

106

Sneak Attack

W illow

I’m weeping. I’m not going to lie. If there was a way to kill myself, I would. The last three days have been so hard on me I can’t bear it. There are males who’ve been here for years, toiling in the brutal mines all day, every day. I don’t know how they manage it. I’m demoralized and hopeless after less than a handful of days.

I’d be dead already if my two cellmates hadn’t helped me mine my quota of ore. I still don’t know how that judge had the power to send me here, making me the only female on the planet.

I heard the guards talking. They have no idea how I wound up here. Of course, they didn’t spend too much time talking about that. They were too busy talking about how they’d like to fuck me in every hole. And then they discussed how they were going to make it happen—tonight.

If Braveheart and Valor hadn’t made a pact to never leave me alone, I’d possibly be raped to death by now. This is not a kind and gentle place. But the two males won’t let anyone, guard or inmate alike, get near me. I think of them as my saviors.

I’m in our cell on Valor’s lap, crying like a baby as he strokes my hair. It’s become our nightly ritual. The moment the cell door clangs shut, he lifts me gently with his giant hands, sits us on his narrow bed, and rocks me.

For the first two days, I thought maybe it was just the juxtaposition of his kindness against the cruel taskmasters and their grueling tasks that made me feel better at the end of the day. But now I know I’m not making it up. There’s something about his touch or his proximity that calms me.

It’s not just that. Every evening when we are locked back into our cell, my hands are cut and scraped from lifting the heavy rocks and wielding a pickaxe all day. I lay my hands in my lap, palms up, and watch them heal before my eyes. Valor has powers.

I’m not sure he can talk. He’s never said a word to me or Braveheart. There’s something about his spirit and gentle touch that soothe me.

As nice as this respite is, I wiggle off his lap so I can tell both him and Braveheart what I heard today.

“I heard the guards talking,” I say. “They’re planning on turning up your collars until—”

“We heard,” Braveheart says. “They think they can turn up the pain to disable us so they can come into the cell and take you. Don’t worry. We won’t let that happen.”

Valor nods his humungous head in agreement.

I’m glad they feel so confident, but no one can withstand the shock collars. That’s what they were built for—disabling or killing even the strongest slaves, like my two cellmates.

“I’d be dead already without you two,” I say, glancing at the males in the neighboring cells who tried to hurt me. “You’ve kept me safe and healed me. It’s more than I could have expected. I appreciate you, but I won’t hold a grudge if… something happens. You can only do so much.”

I sleep with my clothes on as I have every night. When I slide into bed next to Braveheart, he slings his arm around my waist, tugs me close, and whispers reassurances.

“Do you know what a geneslave is?” he asks.

“I saw them on TV. I—” I cut myself off mid-sentence. I almost disclosed that I saw the geneslave Anubis on the Down to Two vid series my mistress watched all day, every day it aired. I’m not going to divulge that, though. If I tell them what I saw, they’ll eventually wonder why I kept the secret about the gizmos the Feds inserted into their backs.

I hated the show, hated seeing what the network and Feds put the contestants through. Even though I’d been in space for five years, it shocked me to see people dying as entertainment on galaxy-wide vids.

That awful announcer, Jahzara Zedd, I hate her with a passion. She’s a psychopath who enjoys toying with people before she kills them.

On Down to Two , the male in one of the winning couples was a geneslave. I looked the term up on the Intergalactic Database when Mistress was asleep.

I was terrified that Valor and Braveheart would rape me that first night. Then I put two and two together when I realized they both had numbered tattoos, which meant they were geneslaves.

I haven’t mentioned the device I assume they carry under their flesh, because I guess I still don’t trust them not to hurt me. When Mistress had me arrested, it killed what little ability to trust I still had.

“Valor and I will do what we must to protect you, Willow,” Braveheart whispers in my ear.

In the few nights I’ve been here, I’ve become attuned to the sounds of the cellblock. There’s sometimes a verbal squabble or a push-and-shove match between cellmates. Then when things quiet down after that, the unashamed noises of males stroking themselves, them coming with a bark of pleasure, echo through the corridor.

When that subsides, it’s usually only snoring that assaults my ears. It’s clear as a bell when I hear the sound of three pairs of boots marching down the walkway. The guards are coming for me.

Every muscle in my body tenses at the same time I feel Braveheart stiffen and go on full alert. Valor’s eyes are open, his shoulders tight as all of us look down the hallway, waiting for the onslaught.

When the three guards appear in our line of sight, my slave collar activates. It’s higher than the “one” setting I was punished with when I first arrived in space. I clench my teeth and refuse to scream as pain zaps through me, flinging me to the floor as my whole-body spasms. By the strangled moans I hear from my two friends, it seems they’re already being tortured at a much higher level.

Braveheart’s body is vibrating in agony as he scratches at the device on his throat. Valor is huffing through gritted teeth to control the pain.

They wanted to protect me, but no one can withstand the full power of the slave collar.