Page 5

QUINN

T he captain’s head stares up at me, glassy-eyed and slack-jawed, a grim reminder of what’s coming.

My stomach churns, but there’s nothing left to heave.

Reku looms over me, his bone spurs glinting like bloodied knives under the dim light.

He snaps the leash in his hand, and the sound cracks through the room like a gunshot.

Daria moves fast, her bare feet silent on the grimy floor. She’s at my side before I can flinch, her hands working the manacles with practiced ease. The metal clatters to the ground, and I rub my raw wrists, my pulse racing.

“Why is he letting me go?” I whisper, my voice trembling. My eyes dart to Reku, who’s watching us with a twisted grin, his neural whip coiled at his side like a serpent ready to strike.

“He’s not.” Daria’s voice is low, urgent. Her red mohawk brushes my cheek as she leans in. “He wants to make it more entertaining for himself. Freeing your hands so you can fight back.”

I glance at Reku again, his massive frame blocking the only exit. My stomach drops. “I’m not a fighter.”

“Then run.” Her fingers tighten on my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “I’ll distract him.”

Reku’s laugh booms through the room, deep and guttural. “What’s the matter, little diplomat? Scared of a fair fight?” He cracks the whip, and the air sizzles with the sound of it. “Or are you just too weak to even try?”

Daria darts to Reku, her movements fluid and practiced, like a dancer who knows every step of a dangerous routine.

She drops to her knees at his feet, her hands pawing at his thigh with a familiarity that makes my skin crawl.

Her red mohawk brushes against his leg as she looks up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Please, Master Reku,” she says, her voice soft, almost childlike. “Please don’t kill her.”

Reku tilts his head, his bone spurs catching the light like jagged shards of obsidian. “Why not?” he asks, and it’s not mocking. He sounds genuinely curious, like a predator trying to understand why its prey would beg for mercy.

“Because I could use the help,” Daria says quickly, her fingers tightening on his thigh. “I’m tired of scrubbing pots and cleaning up after the entire crew. If she helped me, I’d have more time to spend making you happy…”

I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. Reku’s eyes soften, the red glow in them dimming to a warm, almost affectionate light. He reaches down, his massive hand cupping Daria’s cheek with a tenderness that makes my stomach twist.

“Would you like me to give her to you, my pet?” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate.

This is my chance. I don’t think, I just move. My feet hit the floor hard as I bolt for the throne room door, my heart pounding in my ears. The door is so close, just a few more steps?—

It slams shut with a deafening bang, the sound reverberating through the room like a death knell. I skid to a stop, my hands slamming against the cold metal.

“Going somewhere, Ambassador?” Reku’s voice is a low growl behind me, dripping with amusement.

The power blade hilt clatters across the floor toward me, its weight unmistakable even before I catch it.

My fingers scramble to grip it, but it’s like holding a lead pipe—awkward, unwieldy, and completely beyond my ability to swing with any kind of precision.

I barely manage to keep it from slipping out of my hands.

Reku grins, his bone spurs catching the dim light as he flicks his neural whip. The air crackles with the sound, and a faint blue glow emanates from the weapon. "Come, Ambassador. Your captain met his end with courage. Don’t disappoint me.”

"Master, no!" Daria shrieks from the corner, her voice cracking with desperation.

"Silence," Reku snaps, not even glancing at her. His eyes are locked on me, gleaming with sadistic glee. "You’ll be punished later."

Daria shoots me a helpless look, her red mohawk trembling as her body tenses. The collar around her neck seems to tighten, her fingers instinctively brushing against it. My hands grip the hilt tighter, but it’s no use. The blade feels like a death sentence in my hands, not a weapon.

With a sharp exhale, I throw the hilt to the floor. It clangs against the metal, rolling away uselessly. "You don’t want a fight," I say, a storm raging inside me. "Because me facing off against you like this isn’t a fight. It’s an execution."

I spread my arms wide and tilt my head back, exposing my throat. "So if you want an execution, let’s be about it. No more pretense of this being a fight."

Reku’s grin falters, replaced by a scowl that twists his face into something even more monstrous.

His grip tightens on the whip, and he lashes out with a vicious crack.

The neural whip strikes my shoulder, and pain explodes through my body like fire in my veins.

I bite down on a scream, my knees buckling as I collapse to the floor.

"Pick it up," he growls, his voice low and feral.

I don’t move. My breaths come in shallow gasps, my vision swimming with spots of light. The pain is everywhere, a relentless wave that threatens to drown me. But I force myself to stay upright, to meet his gaze.

"Pick. It. Up."

I shake my head, my jaw clenched. The whip cracks again, and this time it’s my back that takes the brunt of it. My body arches involuntarily, a strangled cry escaping my lips. My fingers claw at the floor, but I don’t reach for the blade.

"I’m not going to fight for your amusement," I spit, my voice wavering but defiant. "That’s all you’ll get from me."

Reku roars, his whip lashing out again and again, each strike a torrent of agony. My vision blurs, tears streaming down my face. I can feel the warmth of blood trickling from my ears, my nose, the corners of my mouth. My body shakes uncontrollably, but I don’t move. I don’t fight.

Finally, he throws the whip to the ground with a snarl, his chest heaving. "I can’t break this human," he spits, his voice dripping with disgust. "I can only kill her."

I crumple to the floor, my body trembling in a pool of my own blood. The pain is unbearable, but I don’t scream. I don’t beg.

"And I think that perhaps I just have."

Reku’s shadow looms over me, his massive frame blotting out the dim light.

He crouches, his bone spurs scraping against the floor like knives on glass.

His hand—huge, calloused, and stained with blood—grabs a fistful of my hair.

He yanks my head up, forcing me to meet his gaze.

My scalp burns, my vision swims with stars, but I refuse to cry out.

"Foolish human," he sneers, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through my bones.

"You could have died quickly, painlessly.

" His blood-red eyes flicker toward Daria, who’s crouched in the corner, her hands clasped over her mouth, her red mohawk trembling.

"My mate’s tender heart does not like to see women suffer, so I planned to just take your head in one fell stroke. "

He shakes his head, his lips curling into something that might pass for a smirk—if it weren’t so full of malice.

"You were brave, Ambassador. Perhaps braver than even your captain.

" His free hand gestures toward the severed head still lying on the floor, the captain’s lifeless eyes staring into the void.

"I will display your spine as a trophy over my throne with honor. "

I mutter something and gasp. He leans in closer, putting his ear next to my lips.

"I would hear your last words, human," he says. "Speak."

I cough, blood spattering my lips and dripping down my chin. My voice is barely a whisper, ragged and broken. "I said…" I pause, my breath hitching, my body trembling with pain. "I have the power blade… dumbass."

Reku’s eyes narrow, but before he can react, I twist my wrist. The power blade hums to life beneath my palm, its plasma beam slicing through the air with a hiss.

The white-hot blade cuts cleanly through the toes of his right foot, severing them in an instant.

The smell of burnt flesh fills the air, acrid and choking.

Reku howls, a sound so primal it sends shivers down my spine. He releases my hair, gripping his mangled foot with both hands. Blood pours from the stumps of his toes, pooling on the floor. His eyes blaze with fury, his bone spurs gleaming like daggers in the dim light.

"You little—" he snarls, his voice a guttural growl. He grabs me again, this time by the throat, lifting me off the ground like I weigh nothing. My feet dangle in the air, my vision darkening at the edges. His grip tightens, cutting off my air.

"Proceed on your way to oblivion," he hisses, his lips curling back to reveal rows of sharp, pointed teeth. He raises me higher, my body limp and helpless, ready to slam me down onto the deck and crush my skull.

My vision swims, the edges of it dark and blurry. Reku’s grip is crushing, my throat burning as my feet dangle uselessly in the air. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. My body feels like it’s about to shatter.

Then I see it—movement behind him. A figure, massive and scaled, stepping into the throne room.

Red scales glint under the dim light, a torn and bloody Alliance uniform hanging off his broad frame.

My brain stumbles. Is this a hallucination?

A last-ditch fantasy conjured by my oxygen-starved mind?

A half-naked, ridiculously handsome alien coming to save me?

Yeah, sure. Because that’s exactly how my luck works.

Daria gasps, her voice slicing through the haze. Reku’s grip falters for a fraction of a second, his red eyes flicking toward her. That’s all the warning he gets.

The red-scaled Vakutan moves like a missile.

His fist connects with Reku’s face with a sickening crunch.

Bone spurs snap, blood sprays, and Reku’s grip on my throat vanishes.

I hit the floor hard, my body crumpling as I gasp for air.

My vision clears just enough to see Reku stumble back, his face a mess of blood and broken spurs.

This is no hallucination.

Reku roars, his voice shaking the room. He lunges at the Vakutan, his massive frame hurtling forward like a freight train. But the Vakutan doesn’t flinch. He meets Reku head-on, their bodies colliding with a sound like thunder.

The fight is brutal, a blur of fists and blood. Reku is fast, his neural whip lashing out like a serpent, but the Vakutan is faster. He catches the whip midair, yanking it from Reku’s hand and tossing it aside like it’s nothing. Reku’s eyes widen, fear flickering across his face for the first time.

It’s over in seconds.

The Vakutan grabs Reku by the head, his massive hands gripping either side of his skull. With a roar, he slams his forehead into Reku’s face. The impact sends Reku flying across the room, his body hitting the wall with a crunch and sliding to the floor in a heap.

I blink, my brain struggling to process what just happened. The Vakutan turns, his purple eyes locking on me. He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling like a storm-tossed sea. Blood drips from a broken spur on his face, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

Then he’s there, kneeling beside me, his hands surprisingly gentle as he scoops me up. His arms are like steel, but the way he cradles me is almost tender. My body feels like it’s held together by string, every breath sending sharp pains through my ribs.

“Everything is fine now, Ambassador,” he says, his voice deep and sure, like he’s stating an immutable fact.

I stare at him, my lips parting as I try to speak. My voice comes out in a croak. “Why?”

He grins, a dazzling, smug thing that should be obnoxious but somehow isn’t. “Because,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “ I am here!”

I blink, my brain short-circuiting. “Who the hell are you?”

“Varnok the Annihilator,” he says, his brow ridges arching high on his face. “But you can call me… your next lover.”

I cough, blood spilling from my lips. My body feels like it’s about to give out, the pain and exhaustion finally catching up to me.

“You’re out of your goddamn mind,” I sputter, my vision fading to black.

The last thing I see is his grin, smug and unshaken, as the darkness takes me.