Justice was within my grasp, and I got careless.
I wanted to hear her admit her guilt out loud.
I needed to know why she turned on him.
At her confession of innocence, I’m not sure what to believe. I don’t trust the council. Their values have become so twisted through the decades that I’m not sure they recognizethe difference between the truth and a lie anymore. Any moral compass they possessed was destroyed long ago. The corrupt assholes will do whatever it takes to remain in power.
Lie, cheat, kill—they’ve done it all.
But I read the reports from the Orion who were present.
I talked to them, listened to their firsthand accounts of how she mortally wounded Givvens when he tried to take her into custody, how she ruthlessly tore through a squad of Orion who tried to save him.
I no longer know what to believe.
The suffocating grief she carries is very real, the scent of her pain impossible to fake, but that would mean my fellow Orion—men I worked with for decades—lied to me.
It makes no sense, and I don’t like the mystery.
As I mentally recall the reports, pain spikes in my brain, my skull feeling like someone is trying to remove my eyes with a rusty spoon. The harder I push, the more the sensation spreads until I swear I can feel something wiggling in my brain.
It’s such an unsettling sensation, a shiver of revulsion goes down my spine, and I back off.
Someone tampered with my memories.
What secrets do I know that would cause them to go through the effort of hiding the information from me? The possibility that she wasn’t guilty never crossed my mind, which is suspicious in itself.
Who the fuck messed with my head and when?
I wish I could say this changes things, but it doesn’t matter what I think. I have no choice but to return her to face the council. No matter how much I fight their commands, I’m helpless to resist, thanks to the magical bindings all Orion are forced to endure.
Those who fight the commands die painfully, magic slowly breaking their minds.
If she were guilty, why would she show me compassion and save me?
I struggle to process her benevolence. It would make more sense for her to kill me, ridding herself of the problem. Honestly, I find her mercy deeply troublesome.
Hunched over, I reach up to rub the bruises along my throat, feeling a trickle of blood run down my neck from where her claws nicked me.
Then my hands slow.
I’m touching bare skin.
My brain stutters as it processes the information, disbelief holding me immobile, then my fingers gingerly touch my neck again, searching for the necklace the council uses like a shock collar.
It’s gone.
Much like a dog that has been chained too long, my first thought is sheer panic. If the council discovers that it has been removed, I’m as good as dead.
My neck feels naked without it.
Exposed.
Then their conditioning cracks, panic slowly giving way to awe.
I’m…free?
I’ve spent so many decades as a prisoner that I’m at a loss for what being free actually means. I recognize that I’m in shock. I expect my dragon to take over and shift, desperate for revenge, but the beast is still and quiet, almost afraid to draw attention to himself. We’ve had a master for so long that neither of us knows how to react to this new revelation.
