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“Fuck off. This isn’t about protecting Rennick. This is about protecting what your family buried on that ship. Why wipe Habor from her past if shit didn’t go down that you’re embarrassed by? What the hell did you do on that ship?”
Navarre didn’t answer. He studied me the way you’d study a stain on expensive upholstery, already calculating its removal. “You’re smarter than I expected. Which makes this unfortunate.” He tapped the table’s surface, and a flat panel flared to life under his fingerprint.
Two security drones entered through the door a second later. Bigger than the one that dropped me in the corridor. Industrial chassis, magnetic clamp arms, built for moving cargo. Or people.
I stood and backed up. The chair was between me and the nearest drone, and my hamstring was a hot wire of pain every time I shifted my weight.
“Here’s what happens now, Miss Myers,” Navarre said. “You disappear quietly, the way people do when they’ve broken the law.”
“I’ve broken no laws.” My attention stayed on the hovering threat.
“The records will show you stole money and decided a broken alien ship isn’t worth dying over.”
“Screw you. I’m going nowhere.”
“My security team will escort you to a transport. By morning, Dead Stick Salvage’s accounts will show a withdrawal of the full contract payment, traced to your personal access codes.”
“Liar! You don’t have access to that information.”
“Yet. You can either tell me those details, my security team will beat them out of you, or we’ll hack your system. Which way will be faster and more pleasant for you?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“I’ll leave my nephew to undertake that delightful experience.” His gaze flicked over me, creepier this time, as if he was considering doing something dumb and dangerous.
My stomach dropped. Fuck.
“Rennick will wake in the morning to find you gone.” Navarre’s voice stayed level, like he was describing a trade route adjustment, not a plan to disappear me. “He won’t chase you. His pride won’t let him. No, he’ll hate you. And he’ll hate that ship, because it brought you into his life and then yanked you away. He’ll let the Hollow Chorus go, and the family’s problem disappears with her.”
“He won’t believe I did that. Rennick knows me!”
“You’re human. Your kind run on deceit, fear, and greed. You only have to watch your filthy media channels to know that’s the truth.” He tilted his head. “Betrayal is easier to believe than conspiracy, Miss Myers. Especially when the evidence is clean.”
The first drone moved. I grabbed the chair and swung it. The impact jarred up my arms and bounced off the chassis without leaving a mark. Magnetic clamps locked around my left wrist before I could pull back.
I twisted, driving my elbow into the joint between the drone’s arm segments. Nothing so much as twitched. These drones weren’t messing around. The second unit flanked me. A clamp caught my right arm and lifted until my feet barely touched the floor.
I kicked, and my hamstring screamed. My heel connected with the drone’s lower housing, and pain shot from my ankle to my hip.
“My crew will look for me! They won’t buy your bullshit story,” I yelled.
“Your crew will find the same financial trail as everyone else. The simplest conclusion will be that you took the credits and ran.” Navarre shrugged, appearing amused by my struggle. “People believe the simplest conclusion. It’s a remarkable flaw in your species, and one I’m exploiting to remove my family from this nasty little situation.”
The drones lifted me higher, and my shoulders burned. The head wound pulsed behind my eyes, and the room tilted sideways.
“What about the ship?” I had to keep him talking and give myself time to find an angle to get me out of this nightmare. “The bond is writing my signature. You said it yourself, so you know I’m important to her. If I disappear, the Hollow Chorus will still run my pattern. She won’t let me go. She’ll look for me.”
“That ship is as messed up as you are. She’ll be decommissioned and stripped within the week. Rennick will oversee it before taking on my new ship. Hollow Chorus should have been scrapped years ago.” He waved a hand. “A loose end, finally tied.”
“She’s alive! You can’t murder her.”
“She’s evidence of an unwanted, broken mistake. And so are you.” His mask slipped enough for me to see the coldness beneath the suave. “It’s time all of that got destroyed.”
The drones drag-carried me toward the door. I thrashed, got one arm free for a second before the clamp caught it, cutting circulation, and my fingers went numb.
I catalogued the corridor as they dragged me along. No windows, three sealed doors before we descended into a loading bay. A transport with blacked-out windows and no registration markings idled on a pad. The rear hatch was open.
“Navarre! You mother fucker.” I twisted to face the corridor behind me, but he hadn’t followed. Of course he hadn’t. His hands would stay clean.
