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“I couldn’t let you leave, not without telling you how I really feel,” he said.
I smiled up at him.
Ahead, a chittering sound issued up from one of the long corridors formed by the stacks of merchandise.
Dyrel froze and immediately turned down another row. He came to a single crate without others stacked on top of it.
He placed me on it gently. Still, I felt that keen splinter of pain shoot up my leg.
He removed his jacket and placed it over me to keep me warm.
“Where are you going?” I said.
“To take out these Changelings,” he said. “My ship’s on the other side of the cargo hold. I had to enter through a hole they blasted in the side of this freighter to get onboard. We won’t reach it if I don’t take them out.”
I grabbed his arm.
“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t risk your life for me. You’re rich, from a wealthy family. They will pay your ransom and you can get out of here. Don’t risk your life now. Not for me.”
He leaned forward and ran his hands through my hair, ignoring my brow was dampened with sweat. He curled his hand around my face and ran his thumb over my bottom lip.
“You are my life,” he said. “I would not risk you for anything.”
Couldn’t he see I felt the same way? Couldn’t he see I would have gladly taken any pain so he didn’t have to?
But his jaw was set and his eyes firm. There was no changing his mind.
He was heading out there among God knew how many Changeling soldiers. He was a single Titan. Yes, he was strong and powerful, with incredible healing powers, but a single blast from a plasma rifle could end his life in the blink of an eye and burn his thread from the tapestry of life.
I pointed to a crate behind him.
“Take those,” I said.
He glanced at what I pointed at. It was a sealed crate of alcohol.
“I don’t drink,” he said. “I quit.”
“You need something to fight with,” I said.
His eyes lit up with my idea. He pecked me on the lips again.
Then he gripped the lid of the crate and tore it off with a single movement. He reached inside and took out four bottles. He held three in one hand and another in his right.
At least now he had clubs he could fight with. He wasn’t completely unarmed.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
A steely determination crept over his face as he stepped into the darkness and disappeared.
I laid there, totally helpless, and listened intently.
I prayed I wouldn’t hear him groan in pain or hear a blaster pistol shot followed by a heavy thump as he lay dying with a hole in his chest.
Minutes felt like hours. I listened to the blackness but heard nothing.
Then I heard a shot and a creature shouted.
Three more shots followed swiftly on the heels of the first.
