He began pacing again, animated by the memories. "They all profited from my existence, from my work."
He returned his focus to me. "And when I needed capital—real resources to fund my operations—I found Declan Hewes."
The name made my stomach twist. "You're a slave trader."
"A businessman," Riuondo corrected. "One who understood the value of human cargo. Alliance nobility paid well for exotic slaves, and Hewes provided them. I simply... facilitated certain transactions. Ensured his ships could move through Alliance space without interference. In return, he funded my operations. Quite the profitable arrangement."
"You trafficked humans." The words came out strangled. "You helped enslave them."
"I used the resources available to me." He shrugged, utterly unconcerned. "Hewes would have operated with or without my help. I simply made him more efficient. And in doing so, I built the financial foundation I needed to eliminate my competition and position myself for succession."
I stared at him, this male I'd once competed against in the trials. This male who'd seemed merely ambitious, merely angry at losing. I'd never imagined the depths of his depravity.
"You orchestrated everything," I said. "The skirmish between Vaktaire and Romvesia. Your supposed death on the mining moon. All of it."
"All of it," he confirmed, clearly pleased that I was finally understanding the scope of his plan. "I needed to disappear. To work in the shadows while you played Prime. And now, after all these years, after all that patience and planning, I'm the only candidate left. The only one who can succeed you."
A thought struck me—something that had been nagging at the edges of my mind since the ambush. "How did you know?" I asked. "How did you know where we'd be? When we leftVaktaire, only a handful of people knew our route, our timing. Who gave us up?"
Riuondo's smile widened, clearly enjoying this. "Ah. You want to know which of your advisors betrayed you." He paused for effect. "It was Kalipuk."
Kalipuk. My trusted pilot. The man who'd served me for decades. "No," I said. "That's impossible. Kalipuk would never—"
"Wouldn't he?" Riuondo circled me slowly. "He held out longer than I expected, I'll give him that. Quite loyal, your Kalipuk. But everyone has a breaking point."
My stomach turned. "What did you do?"
"I took his mate. His younglings." Riuondo said it so casually, as if discussing a minor inconvenience. "Brought them to one of my facilities. Started with the mate—she was quite resilient, actually. Lasted almost three days before Kalipuk finally agreed to send me your flight plans, your security protocols, everything I needed."
I felt bile rise in my throat. The image of Kalipuk's mate—gentle Aeriva, who'd always had a kind word for everyone—being tortured while Kalipuk was forced to choose between his family and his duty. "You monster."
"I'm practical," Riuondo corrected. "And it worked. He gave you up, and here we are."
But even as horror washed through me, another thought crystallized. Kalipuk hadn't betrayed me out of greed or ambition or weakness. He'd done it to save his family. Any parent would have done the same. Any mate. In his position, facing that impossible choice, I would have done exactly what he did.
He was still a hero to me. Perhaps more so now than ever before.
Riuondo moved closer, his voice dropping to something almost intimate. "Once you've abdicated, once the power has transferred to me, who knows. I might leave you and your mate here to enjoy long happy lives."
"You'll kill us anyway." I didn't believe him for a second.
"Of course." He said it so casually, as if discussing the weather. "But at least this way, you have a choice. Abdicate, and I'll make it quick. Painless. Refuse..." He gestured to the neural stimulator. "And I'll make him suffer for days. Weeks, if necessary. Until you break."
I looked at Cullen. His face was set, determined. Down the bond, I felt his resolve—his willingness to endure whatever came. His silent plea for me not to give in.
Don't. Don't let him win.
I turned back to Riuondo and forced my voice to remain steady. "No."
For a moment, he just stared at me. Then he laughed—a sound devoid of humor.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
He activated the neural stimulator.
The device came alive with a high-pitched whine. Energy crackled along its probes as they extended toward Cullen's skull, stopping just short of contact. The air itself seemed to vibrate with violence.
"Last chance," Riuondo said. "Abdicate, or he suffers."
