Those words registered at the same time he saw the group rushing toward them, reaching for weapons.
What the hell? They weren’t Caronese soldiers or guards his uncle might have sent. They were dressed as civs.
But their weapons were military grade…
Shit. It
was
an attack.
When their leader ducked out from the corner in front of them, Darling’s blood ran cold.
It was Clarion Lubomir. Zarya’s right hand… and
his
ally.
No, not
Darling’s
ally.
Kere’s.
Double shit. Clarion would never believe that Kere was also the Caronese heir they fought against and hated. None of them would. All they saw was a royal-blooded enemy who stood for everything that had ever repressed them. Every failure in their lives. Every disappointment from not having a better job to being saddled with a spouse who nagged them to distraction.
It was
all
his family’s fault.
Not one of those men knew how many shots he’d taken to
protect their backs. How many times he’d fought by their side against his uncle’s soldiers.
How many times he’d carried them to safety when they were wounded or under fire. And right now, even if they did, they most likely wouldn’t care anyway.
You wear the uniform, you’re judged by the banner on the sleeve—the same banner we’ll wrap around your body for your burial.
Fuck me…
They opened fire.
Darling moved to cover his sister. “Run, Lise! Get to my ship.”
Without questioning him, she dropped her tote, and for once, obeyed. Running backward, Darling tried to protect her as best he could.
He mentally reviewed the weapons he had on him. They were all designed to kill. If he used even a single one, it’d tear his allies apart. That was the last thing he wanted. They were good men with families he knew in some cases on an intimate level. They didn’t deserve to die over a stupid mistake.
Think, Darling, think.
The last thing he’d anticipated was his own allies assaulting him.
Damn it! Why hadn’t he even considered it?
’Cause the bastards were supposed to be in Caronese territory, not Garvon.
Oh yeah, there was that…
Not to mention, they’d never gone after
his
family before. Arturo, his wife and daughters, yes. But Darling’s immediate family had always been off limits.
He growled in frustration. He’d only had the two stun blasts he’d used on Lise’s guards. Why hadn’t he brought more?
’Cause who would have thought of
this
?
Darling kept himself between Lise and their fire as he went with her, toward the ship. Blasts of color ricocheted everywhere.
Thank the gods they weren’t better shots. Over the past years, he’d often laughed at Clarion for his lousy aim and had even tried to teach him how to shoot better.
Thank the gods Clarion was a slow learner.
One blast came within millimeters of Lise. Had she not put her head down a second earlier to run faster, she’d have lost it.
His blood boiled. So this was Clarion’s great plan? To kidnap his sister and what? Hold her for ransom? Was he out of his idiotarian mind? Arturo wouldn’t pay to get her back. He’d assume her raped and then she would be useless to him. The only value she had to their uncle was as a virgin bride.
Shit, shit, shit…
Lise made it to the ship, then hesitated as she glanced at Darling and the men on their heels. If she went up the ladder, she’d be an easy target even with their limited abilities.
Turning around, Darling pulled out his blaster and opened cover fire, trying to buy her enough time to get into the cockpit. He had no intention of wounding them. All he aimed for was the space between Clarion and the man on his left.
But it didn’t work that way.
The moment he pulled the trigger, his blast was absorbed as if the Resistance fighters were protected by a force field. An instant later, pulses of energy shot out in all directions.
It was a distinctive pattern he knew all too well, since it was one he’d designed and created.
No…
Surely not…
One of the blasts struck him hard in the chest, knocking him off his feet forcefully enough to skid him across the concrete floor. Had he not been wearing his armor, it would have killed him. But worse than his wound, the pulses split into a whole round of volleys that bounced through the hangar—just like he’d built them to do.
He watched in horror as one of the pulses went straight into his little sister’s back. “Sashi! Help me!” she screamed before she was paralyzed by the blast. It knocked her away from the ladder to land beside his ship.
Her cry for him tore him apart. But not as much as the fact that he couldn’t get to the little sister he’d sworn over and over again to protect from all harm.
Terrified, he stared at her as a pool of red spread across the concrete, bleeding out from under her body.
No…
No!
There was so much blood. It soaked her clothes and covered her outstretched hand. Darling wanted to go to her and protect her. But he couldn’t move at all.
And he knew exactly why. The tricom—the weapon he’d built solely for Zarya to protect her from enemies. Instead, it’d been used against him and Lise.
I killed my baby sister…
Tears filled his eyes as the truth kicked his teeth in and struck him harder than the blast that had paralyzed him. Grief and agony shredded his conscience.
By trying to save Lise, he’d caused her death. How could he have been so stupid? How could fate have done this to him?
The Resistance members came forward with cocky strides, laughing at their success. Two went over to Lise while the rest surrounded Darling.
One of them kicked his shoulder with the toe of his boot. “Look at that. The bastard can’t move at all.”
Another one clapped hands with Clarion. “I can’t believe it worked! Man, we need to send Kere flowers or a woman or something to say thank you for this.”
Clarion smiled as he pulled the tricom off his belt and kissed it. “I can’t wait to tell Zarya how well this worked. She’s not going to believe it.”
The rebel who’d bent over his sister stood up. “I got bad news, guys. The bitch here is dead.”
Darling felt a single tear sliding from the corner of his eye as the rebel confirmed his worst fear.
His precious baby sister was dead.
Because of me.
Because of something
he’d
invented…
Over and over, he saw images of Lise reaching for him to hold or protect her. Saw the smile in her eyes and heard her laughter as she hugged him tight, and told him how much she loved her big brother. He’d been eight when she was born, and from the moment he’d first seen her bald head and those huge hazel green eyes staring at him, and she’d wrapped her tiny, baby fingers around his pinkie before gumming it, she’d owned his heart.
No matter their fights. No matter their differences. She had meant everything to him.
How could she be gone?
How could I have killed her?
The soldier closest to him cursed. “Are you sure?”
“See for yourself. The blast left a huge hole in her. What a waste, too. We could have definitely had fun with
her
while we waited for payment.”
Unmitigated fury, agony, and grief tore through Darling’s blackened soul.
How could he ever face his mother and brother after this?
How could he ever face himself?
Why couldn’t it have killed me, too?
One of the soldiers kicked him in the ribs. “Stupid son of a
whore! Damn you, for screwing this up.” Aiming his blaster at Darling’s head, he looked over to Clarion. “You want me to kill this one, too?”
Snarling in anger, Clarion approached Darling. With the toe of his boot, he lifted Darling’s face so that he could see his features. The moment he did, a wide smile curved his lips. “Oh no, Davon. This… this is much better than even the princess.”
“How so?”
Clarion laughed again as he kicked Darling’s head. “What we have here, gentlemen, is the lovely cock-sucking royal fag himself. Darling Cruel. Caronese heir to the throne and future governor of our worthless empire. We just hit the mother lode of good fortune.” He clapped hands with Davon. “Get him on board before someone else sees him. He’ll be worth ten times what the princess was.”
His heart broken by what he’d inadvertently set into motion, Darling had no choice except to lay there as they grabbed him and ruthlessly dragged him onto their ship.
It would take at least four hours before the stun would wear off and he could move again, and tell them who he really was.
If not longer. Until then, he was as helpless as an infant. Worse, he could hear, feel, and see everything they did to him. But he couldn’t make a sound.
Or make a single move to protect himself.
It was just like being in the mental institutions all over again. One of the crueler regimens they’d used on him had been the paralytics that had kept him immobile and fully aware with elevated sensory drugs to heighten his senses while they “treated” him using various aversion therapies.
Nausea swelled inside him as he remembered the weeks where the doctors had tortured him for his uncle, trying to make him docile and weak.
Trying to break him.
I can’t do this again.
I can’t.
Raw, unmitigated panic tore him apart. Another confinement like that would make him insane. It would.
Determined to the core of his soul, he strained to move. To fight back. To do anything other than lay here as their victim.
It was useless.
He was completely at their “mercy.”
Goddamn me for being so fucking stupid…
They dumped him in the cargo hold. Clarion and one of the others went to launch the small ship while the rest stayed in the back with him.
Three more joined their group.
A rebel on his right jerked his chin toward Darling. “Hey, Timmon, how much you think those boots are worth?”
“About a year’s pay from the looks of them.” Timmon moved forward to snatch one off. “Oh yeah, that ain’t silver on them. It’s pladin and they’re custom made. Anyone wear his size?” When he went to snatch the other one off, he hit the blade release in the heel and sliced open his hand.
Cursing, he kicked Darling repeatedly in the ribs and face. “Bastard! What are you doing with an assassin’s trick?”
If Darling could move, he’d show him a lot more tricks than that. Including the one Nykyrian had taught him of snatching a human heart out of his target’s chest before his target died.
Another rebel came forward from the front of the ship to investigate him. He pulled his helmet off and Darling wished he could curse.
It was Pip. A man whose life he’d saved just a few months back. Pip had been pinned down by Caronese troops after they’d made a medical drop to the free clinics his uncle had wanted closed
because they’d refused to pay the exorbitant taxes he’d imposed on them.
Darling still had the red mark on his side where he’d been shot while protecting Pip.
Pip leaned down to jerk at the neck of his clothes. “Man, look at this. A fortune for his battlesuit, too.” He backhanded Darling. “You rotten faggot. How many people starved to buy you that, huh?”
None. He’d bought the battlesuit with the money he’d made through the Sentella. An organization dedicated to protecting the very people who were now attacking him for no reason other than a birthright he couldn’t help. A birthright that had been filled with lessons from his father about protecting his people.
“Remember, son, you are a servant of the Caronese. Your job isn’t to rule them so much as it is to protect and provide for their well-being. The strength of your reign will be judged by the strength of our people. Their happiness is your happiness. Love flows both ways. Never abuse your power or your people. There is no glory in cruelty. Only shame.”
His father’s words haunted him now.
That sense of noblesse oblige was why he’d joined and funded the Resistance as Kere.
Unlike his father, Arturo saw the people as tools to be used and destroyed when they no longer served his needs.
Pip kicked him again. “Get his cards and anything else he has of value. We can sell it.”
“Yeah,” Timmon laughed. “I have many needs.”
Shocked and horrified by their ruthless animal behavior, Darling lay helpless as they stripped him completely bare. While they pilfered his belongings, they found Zarya’s ring on his pinkie where he’d placed it last night so that he could keep that small part of her with him.
Don’t steal it.
It was all she had left of her dead mother… Her only inheritance.
His throat tightened as he remembered her giving it to him six months ago.
“I can’t take this, Zarya. I know what it means to you.”