What the fuck?
More chaos erupted from the opposite side of the square. Prisoners—dozens of them, armed with whatever weapons they'd managed to scavenge or steal poured out of the lower levels like a flood of violence and rage. They attacked Hewes's remaining guards with the fury of men with nothing left to lose.
Leading them was Roone.
The small alien moved like lightning, his blade flashing in the morning light as he cut down a guard twice his size. Other prisoners followed his lead, their movements desperatebut effective, and suddenly the square was a battlefield, a slaughterhouse painted in blood and violence.
Hewes screamed something I couldn't hear over the noise and ran, his carefully constructed image of power crumbling as he fled for his life.
Coward.
I surged to my feet, my hands still bound, my ankles still shackled, my body screaming in protest but moving anyway.
The chains wouldn't hold me. Not now. Not with adrenaline flooding my system.
I pulled. Hard.
The metal groaned. Protested. My shoulders screamed as I forced them past their natural range of motion, as ligaments stretched and tendons threatened to snap. Pain exploded through my wrists where the metal had cut deep, opening old wounds and creating new ones, blood streaking down my arms.
But I didn't care.
The chains snapped with a sound like breaking bones.
I bent and grabbed the executioner's fallen blade—massive, heavy, perfectly balanced for taking heads. Then I went to work on the ankle shackles, my movements quick and efficient despite the blood making my grip slippery.
Two strikes. The metal parted. The chains fell away with a clatter that was lost in the chaos.
I was free.
I glanced across the dais.
Persico was still in the cage, still trapped, still vulnerable to anyone loyal to Hewes who decided to finish what he'd started.
I turned toward the cage. The Kerzak's massive hands gripped the bars hard enough to make them creak, his dark eyes tracking the chaos around him with the awareness of a predator waiting for his moment.
I ran, my newly freed legs eating up the distance.
An arrow whistled past my head, close enough that I felt the displacement of air. A guard tried to intercept me—I cut him down without breaking stride, the blade singing through the air, through flesh, through bone. He fell in two pieces, his eyes wide with shock.
I reached the cage and brought the blade down on the lock.
Once.
Twice.
The lock shattered, metal fragments scattering across the stone.
I yanked the door open, and Persico climbed out, his movements stiff from confinement but still powerful, still dangerous. He rolled his shoulders, testing his range of motion, and I saw the flash of predatory satisfaction in his eyes.
"You didn't have to do that," he said, his voice rough.
"Yes, I did." I handed him a blade I'd taken from one of the fallen guards, a nasty-looking thing with a serrated edge. "Hewes?"
"Ran like the coward he is." Persico's mouth twisted into something dark, something that promised violence and retribution. "There's a ship. Hidden on the outskirts in one of the old mining buildings. He was planning to leave once you were dead—let his lieutenants consolidate power while he escaped to regroup somewhere safe."
Of course he was.
"Where?"
