She nodded numbly and followed Myles to a modest office tucked away from the guest areas. It was a standard administrative space with a desk, chair, and single window overlooking the landing platforms.
"Take all the time you need," Myles said, closing the door behind him.
Mercy slumped into the chair, her head in her hands. The stories Myles had told painted a picture of a man nothing like the one she'd come to know. But which version was real?
The commitment-phobic playboy or the gentle dragon who'd held her through the night?
She thought about their conversations, searching for signs she'd missed. The way he'd talked about running from duty and expectations. His plan to sabotage the matchmaking meeting. Even his offer for her to come to Vemion, was that just another game? Another challenge to overcome?
But then there was the other stuff. The way he'd looked at her when he thought she wasn't watching. The protective fury when the mercs had grabbed her. The reverent way he'd touched her injuries, like each one caused him physical pain.
The way he’d killed for her.
Whatever else Zane might be, whatever his past looked like, that moment on the beach had been real. The connection between them was real.
And Myles was full of shit. Maybe the stories were true, but that wasn’t Zane, not anymore.
She stood abruptly. She was done running from things that scared her. Done letting other people's opinions dictate her choices. Zane had a past. So did she. Maybe he'd made mistakes. But she'd felt something real between them, and she was willing to fight for it.
And she wasn’t going to let Myles talk her out of anything.
She was ready to go find Zane and tell him exactly that. But the door handle didn't turn.
She tried again, putting her shoulder into it. Nothing. The mechanism didn't even click.
"What the hell?" She examined the lock, but it was a standard electronic system. No manual override she could see. "Myles!"
No response.
Had he locked her in?
Her mind was reeling with questions when she heard a transport shuttle's engines roar to life outside. She turned to the window, watching as a familiar ship settled onto the landing platform. Her blood turned to ice as it powered down and the hatch slid open.
Horris stepped out.
Even from a distance, the pirate captain looked exactly as she remembered. Bulky frame, scarred face, the casual arrogance of a man accustomed to taking what he wanted. He scanned the platform like he owned it, then smiled as Myles approached.
They shook hands like old friends.
What the ever-living fuck?
Devastating betrayal roiled through her. Myles hadn't been protecting her. He'd been stalling. Keeping her distracted while he waited for Horris. The comm call, the stories about Zane, the offer to help her escape, all of it had been theater.
Her old friend had sold her out.
Had he done it before or after those mercs had found her on the beach? Had that tipped him off? Or had she done it herself when they landed and told him the whole sordid tale?
She watched through the window as credits changed hands. Watched Myles point toward the building where she was trapped. Watched Horris nod and gesture to his crew.
They were coming for her.
Mercy pressed her back against the door, mind racing. She had to get out of there. Somehow. She didn’t have a comm unit, and there wasn’t a built-in one on the desk. She tested the window, but it didn’t open.
If—no, when—she lived through this, she wasn’t going without a weapon ever again.
She banged on the door and tried to kick the lock. It did nothing.
Outside, Horris and his crew were already moving toward the building. In minutes, they'd be at the door. In hours, she'd be back in that cramped cell, counting down to her death.
