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“One last job. First, I have to get rid of Kesk. Have a sweet day, milady.”
When Var’Len aimed his gun at her, she tried to fire, but her hand wouldn’t respond. Her legs wouldn’t move either!
“You can’t kill me,” Var’Len taunted.
A knife whooshed by and lodged in the trigger of Var’Len’s gun, preventing him from firing. Zirkov charged out of nowhere and body-slammed Var’Len into a forklift.
The two males rolled in a tangle of six arms, horns, and legs. Var’Len pinned Zirkov to the ground, pressing his knee into Zirkov’s chest. Two hands gripped Zirkov’s throat while two others delivered rapid punches to his middle. Zirkov struggled to breathe as he tried to break Var’Len’s grip on his throat but each punch to his stomach weakened his ability to push Var’Len off.
Sharp claws emerged from behind Zirkov’s knuckles on both hands. Like a boxer’s uppercut, he sliced the hands choking him. Var’Len leapt off as Zirkov slashed at him a second time.
Both men pulled to their feet, Zirkov with his claws extended and Var’Len wielding four knives.
“Enough!” Breathing heavily, Zirkov drew his blaster.
The corner of Var’Len’s mouth lifted. “Ke’Riz!”
A muzzle flashed from the catwalks above. A bullet struck Zirkov’s blaster, knocking it from his hand. Maggie snapped out of whatever had frozen her in place and unloaded eight bullets into the dark rafters above. An og’dal fell and landed with a thud. She reached for her pocket… empty! She didn’t have an extra magazine with her.
“Drekking slaver,” Zirkov cursed as Var’Len charged him. Zirkov swept the og’dal’s legs, but Var’Len broke his fall with two hands and slashed a knife across Zirkov’s left thigh with another.
Maggie kicked the blaster out of Var’Len’s reach, then trained her Glock on him. “Freeze or I’ll shoot.” Var’Len held his hands up.
“Are you injured?” Zirkov asked even though he was the one with the leg wound.
“A few bruises, nothing more. Get up, Var’Len.”
With a smug expression, Var’Len rose. “Have a sweet day, milady.”
She knew those words. She’d heard them so many times before.
“Maggie,” Var’Len addressed her. “Shoot Commander Kesk.”
The tightness in her brain demanded she obey.
“Shoot him, Maggie.”
God help her, she pointed her gun at Zirkov. She had no control over what she did!
“Maggie…” Her name spilled from Zirkov’s lips, the disbelief in his voice clear. He extended his hand, palm up, demanding her gun.
She wanted to listen to him, not Var’Len, but her brain wouldn’t allow it. Maggie depressed the trigger of her Glock. A simple pull now, and the gun would fire. At this range, she couldn’t miss.
“Milady, kill Commander Kesk.
Sweat gathered on her brow as she fought the order to shoot Zirkov. “Don’t do this,” she begged. “Don’t make me kill him. I’ll do anything else for you. Anything.”
“Shoot him!” Var’Len ordered.
When Maggie didn’t obey, the pain in her head intensified to an unbearable level. She grabbed her head with one hand.
“It’s okay, Magdalena,” Zirkov said as he slowly reached for her gun.
Maggie snapped to attention, gripping her gun with both hands. “Don’t.”
“I want to help you, Maggie,” Zirkov said in a soothing voice. “You don’t have to do anything. Just stand there. Focus on not moving.”
Her finger glided up and down the trigger as she fought the command to fire. “I don’t want to kill you.”
