Page 1 of Enslak

Prologue

Siemba,Leader of Asad Intelligence

Calpa didn't summon me.

Seven decades running Asad Intelligence, and I could count on one hand the times I'd set foot in the Alliance's gleaming capital. We worked in shadows. Outer reaches. The places civilized society pretended didn't exist while sleeping soundly because we were out there handling the mess.

So when the encrypted message arrived with the Alliance Prime's personal seal and a priority alpha designation, my first thought was, What catastrophe needs cleaning up now?

My second thought caught me off guard. Why am I nervous?

I knew why the Prime had summoned me. I just wasn't ready to face it yet.

The strategic briefing room was built to intimidate. Black Caldorian stone walls absorbed sound and light. A massive holographic display sat dark and dormant in the center, waiting to spring to life. Floor-to-ceiling windows behind the conference table framed Calpa's capital, all elegant spires and carefully planned beauty, the kind of order that only existed when someone else did the dirty work to maintain it.

"Siemba."

The Alliance Prime's voice pulled me around. She sat at the table's head, spine straight, shoulders tight. Regal, yes, but exhausted underneath. Prime Consort Admiral Cullen Blackwood sat beside her, human and military, wearing that carefully neutral expression soldiers perfected when they were about to hear something they wouldn't like. Duke Ako took the seat to her left, his massive frame making the chair look like children's furniture. Next to him sat his son Nansar and the Duke's daughter-in-law Chloe, who was also Cullen's daughter and Nansar's mate.

I inclined my head. "Lady Prime. I came as quickly as I could."

"Thank you." Something flickered in her eyes, hope maybe, or desperation. "As I understand it, your operatives have located my son."

Enslak.

The name hung in the air like smoke. Youngest son of the Alliance Prime, lost over a century ago during the Vaktaire-Romvesian skirmish. Presumed dead. Most of us had accepted it as fact.

Three months ago, I wouldn't have been sitting here. Three months ago, Enslak was still a ghost, a name on a memorial wall, a wound that had scarred over even if it never quite healed.

Then Serna and Cullen were taken. General Riunodo Barkaze's attempt at reclaiming the Prime position he'd lost to her a century ago. Serna defeated him again, and as the bastard lay dying, he twisted the knife one last time.

He told Serna her youngest son still lived.

We dismissed it. Of course we did. The final cruelty of a sadistic man who'd built his empire on suffering, psychological torture delivered with his last breath.

But then lesser Romvesian King Jurtis got caught running a human slavery ring. His private files revealed that Barkaze hadn't been lying. Enslak was alive, and now we knew where.

My operatives confirmed it six weeks ago. They got close enough to capture biometric data. DNA match at ninety-nine point seven percent probability. It was him.

But finding him and extracting him were two entirely different problems.

The compound was a fortress. The Ulkommenian had invested a century into keeping their prize secure. Every approach we'd modeled ended in failure. Either we couldn't breach the defenses, or we'd trigger a kill switch that would eliminate Enslak before we reached him. I'd run the scenarios forty-seven times, forty-seven different tactical approaches, and every single one had an unacceptable probability of failure.

That's why I hadn't told Serna yet. Not the full truth. Not that we'd found her son alive but couldn't figure out how to bring him home. That particular brand of hope felt crueler than Barkaze's dying words.

But she found out anyway. Of course she did. You didn't rule the Alliance without running your own intelligence networks.

So here I sat, about to deliver the news I'd been dreading. Yes, your son lives. No, I don't know how to save him.

"Planet Merisalle," I confirmed. "Outer reaches. My operative Binwee Jazarazant has been working the infiltration for two months."

Duke Ako leaned forward, making the chair creak. "Visual, please."

I activated the holographic display, and the image that materialized made my jaw tighten. Merisalle, that festering wound of a planet notorious even by outer reaches standards for its criminal syndicates, flesh traders, and pit fights where sentient beings tore each other apart for the crowd's entertainment. The hologram zoomed in on a fortified compound in the main city. Red markers bloomed across the display, showing guard positions, security checkpoints, and sensor arrays. At the center, isolated and heavily monitored, sat a single cell.

"The Ulkommenian are holding him here," I said, pulling up the intelligence reports my team had compiled and keeping my voice clinical and professional. "Tight security. They've been using him as a test subject for close to a century, experimentation, augmentation." I paused. "Torture."

The weight of that last word settled over the room like a physical thing. Serna's face had gone pale, and Cullen reached over to take her hand.