"There's nothing of value here," Mercy told him. She wasn't about to panic, but she was very aware that they could blow her ship to smithereens at any moment. Her ship. Her home. The only thing in the universe that was actually hers.
"I'll be the judge of that," said the pirate. "You can call me Horris. Now, do me the pleasure of giving me your name."
"It's Mercy," she said, though she wasn't begging for any yet.
Horris narrowed his eyes. "Full name, lady captain."
So he wanted formality. Whatever. "Mercy Webb, captain of the Alto. This is a simple transport ship, and there's nothing you could possibly want."
For some reason, that made Horris smile. "Now, Captain Webb, you can open the doors for me and my men, or I can blast them off. It's your choice, but I will be boarding your ship. What's it going to be?"
Goddamn it. She was really hoping she could have talked them out of this, but maybe they needed to see that she was worthless for themselves. Her finger hovered over the docking control. Once she pressed it, there was no going back.
She punched the button hard enough to make her knuckle hurt. "There," she said. "Dock away."
Horris gave her a vicious smile and cut off the call.
Mercy sat back in her seat and cursed. She let out one more god-fucking-shit-damn before pushing out of her seat. The familiar sounds of her ship were different now, violated. She could hear them attaching to her hull. Parasites.
Should she grab her blaster? It was tempting, but Horris had the upper hand, and he knew it. How many crew members did he have? She had Zane and had no idea if he could take a punch. He probably had never taken a punch in his life. Lords didn't get punched. They got "challenged to duels" or whatever.
She'd leave it hidden for now and hope she could get it later.
She got up and went to meet the pirate captain, every step feeling like she was walking toward her doom. The dock bay had never seemed so far away. She could hear the magnetic seals engaging, the hiss of pressure equalizing. The sound of her autonomy evaporating.
He was already on the ship when she got to the bay door, and Horris smiled when he saw her. Up close, she could see old burn marks and scars on his hands.
"This isn't exactly what I pictured when I met Rayden Webb's daughter," he said.
Her dad? The asshole who had abandoned her when she was a kid? What did he have to do with anything?
She hadn't heard that name in over a decade. The bastard had walked out when she was seven, chasing some grand adventure, leaving her and her mother with nothing but debts and broken promises. Her only gift from him had been a half-broken music box that played the same six notes over and over until she'd thrown it out at age fifteen.
Horris held up a hand and gestured forward, and four of his people boarded the ship. Two humans, a Kellian with scales that caught the light, and something she couldn't identify under the environmental suit. All armed. All moving with the coordinated precision of people who'd worked together for years.
"Take a look around," he told them. "We don't want any surprises. It's time for Captain Webb and I to have a little talk."
3
Dragon fire was great until you were sitting in the middle of space about to face down pirate scum. Zane grimaced. One wrong move, one slightly too powerful gesture, and he'd cook the hull with all of them inside of it.
Some might be willing to take the risk, but not him. He actually wanted to live.
Was hiding an option?
The Alto wasn't built for it. Every corridor was narrow and utilitarian, designed to maximize cargo space, not provide sanctuary for wayward lords. The few storage compartments were obvious. His quarters held nothing but a bunk and his trunks. The engine room would cook him alive if he tried to squeeze behind the drive units. Even the maintenance crawlways were too exposed, with access panels that would take seconds to pop open.
No. He'd have to face this head-on. Somehow.
Damnation.
Boots thundered through the corridor outside his door. Multiple sets, moving with purpose. Not the casual stride of people exploring—these were hunters who knew exactly what they were looking for. Metal scraped against metal as they checked other compartments. A woman's voice, sharp and businesslike, called out clearances. They were being thorough.
"Two more doors on this level," someone said. Male and too close.
His dragon stirred beneath his skin, threatening to surface. The beast wanted to fight, to protect Mercy and … he didn't know where that thought was trying to lead. Zane forced it down. Not here. Not when his prickly captain could get caught in the crossfire. Not when she'd just started to smile at his terrible jokes.
He couldn't use his fire. He couldn't risk himself. He couldn't risk the ship. And he certainly couldn't risk Mercy.
