All of them.

Pip grabbed his jaw and slammed his head back into the wall as hard as he could.

Unmitigated pain exploded through his skull, blurring his vision. Gah, that hurt.

Pip tightened his hold, making sure his fingers bit deeply into Darling's cheeks. "You better be glad we need you whole for the ransom, rich boy. If we didn't..." He held Darling's severed finger up for him to see. "This would be the least of your injuries."

Darling tried to spit at him, but all it did was come out as a low burst of breath.

Pip glanced over his shoulder at another rebel. "Grab a quarter muzzle for our guest. Last thing we want is to hear his royal complaints when the stun blast wears off."

Darling's stomach shrank at his words. A quarter muzzle was an old Caronese torture device that had once been used for traitors. It had a spiked ball that was put beneath the tongue, then two thin barbed straps that were shoved down the throat. Anytime the wearer swallowed or tried to speak, the spikes sliced into their throat and the underside of their tongue.

Though brutal, it was probably some kind of karmic justice since it'd been invented by one of Darling's ancestors and coldly used to punish his enemies. It, along with many other such vicious acts, was why his family had been given the Cruel surname by their people centuries ago.

So this is how I die.

Not peacefully in old aged sleep like he'd hoped. Or under his uncle's fist or a lucky shot taken at him by his enemies as he'd expected.

No. He would die betrayed and tortured by the very people he'd risked his own life to help.

And when they shoved the muzzle into his mouth and tightened its thin strap around his head until he tasted nothing but his own blood, a new fire burned through him.

I won't let you kill me. I will survive this.

Somehow. Someway. And when he did...

He was going to kill every one of them.

Slowly. Painfully.

And with relish.

"Why are you so pissed?"

Stunned by the sheer stupidity of that question, Zarya stared at her second in command. Was he out of his mind? How could he not understand her anger? "We are not kidnappers. My God, Clarion, that's a member of the royal family you just dragged in here. Have you any idea what the League would do to us if they found out?"

He scoffed derisively. "They don't care, and you know it. Relax. We're just holding him long enough to get the ransom, then we'll release him."

"He's seen our faces."

"So? We're all off grid. Even when they know who we are, they can't find us now. They won't find us later. Besides, he's an aristo. He can't brush his own teeth without his valet doing it for him, never mind swear vengeance and hunt us down. All he'll do is send others after us and they won't do shit but milk his trust fund until it's gone or they get bored. It's not like the Sentella or the Tavali are going to take his contract against us. They don't work for the aristos unless it's against the League, and you know it."

Still, Zarya had a bad feeling about this. She didn't like cruelty against anyone, and the last thing she wanted was to incur the wrath of any aristo.

Look on the bright side, at least they didn't kidnap Drakari Cruel. Rumor had it he was even more brutal than his uncle. And he was battle trained by some of the best instructors in the elevated circles.

Darling...

By all accounts she'd ever read, seen, or heard, he was weak, passive, and extremely effeminate. No backbone whatsoever. It was said that even his own bodyguards ignored his orders and snatched him around like a helpless child. Most of the aristocracy hated him. Unless his uncle commanded it for state functions, his own mother refused to be in his presence or even say his name.

So in that case, Clarion was right. Darling would never come after them. Once he was home, he'd go back to his cozy world and forget about this.

Wishing she could really believe that, she chewed her bottom lip as fear poured through her.

Surely, Clarion had thought this matter through. The Grand Counsel would quickly pay the ransom to get his heir back, and all of this would be behind them in a few days.

"You better be right, Clarion. If you're not, I'm going to shoot you myself."

He tsked at her. "Of course, I am. Now if you're through reaming me, I have a ransom demand to make."

"Go." Before she yielded to her desire to gut him where he stood.

Still, Zarya saw red. How could Clarion have been so foolish? How could he think she'd condone this? No wonder he'd refused to elaborate on his grand scheme for bringing the counselor to his knees.

But the deed was done now. There was no way to undo it. The penalty wouldn't be any less steep if they released the prince now as opposed to after they had the ransom. A ransom they could use to buy supplies to protect and feed Arturo's innocent victims.

Sick to her stomach with fear and trepidation, she reached for her link, wanting to talk to Kere and ask him what she should do. If anyone could advise her on this matter, it would be he.

She pressed his number.

It went straight to voicemail. "You've reached subsector 8-8-4-9-0-5. I can't take your call right now, but leave a message and I'll get back with you."

She savored the rich sound of his deep, masculine voice. "Hey, baby, it's me. Can you please call me as soon as you get this? I really need to hear from you. Love you." Sighing, she hung up, then went to her ledger so that she could pull up the news.

Sure enough, they were already reporting the kidnapping.

The male journalist's eyes glowed with glee. "Yes, you heard that correctly. Darling Cruel, the heir to the Caronese Empire, was taken today from Zanderov in the Garvon Sector by a group who has yet to identify themselves. During the abduction, the Princess Annalise Cruel was shot in the hangar. We have no word on her condition and no word from the abductors..." The reporter kept talking, but Zarya couldn't hear anything else as her heart pounded in her ears.

Clarion had shot the princess? Why had the moron failed to mention that?

Because he knew I'd kill him for it.

Oh dear gods...

This would call down the League on them in addition to the Caronese. While the counselor wasn't fond of the Resistance and did make concentrated efforts to put them down, they'd never really been his priority before.

After this, that would change.

Terrified, she left her office and stormed toward Clarion's. You flipping, stupid, mentally deficient... She couldn't think of insults foul enough to call him. The Caronese would tear them apart over this. While Darling might be hated by everyone, the princess most certainly wasn't. Since the moment she'd kissed her father's coffin during his funeral procession and had said good-bye to him when she'd only been a tiny child, Annalise had held the very heart of their people.

They adored their princess and the people they relied on to help them would be up in arms that anyone had dared to harm her. Especially one of their own...

Everyone would turn against the Resistance now.

Her hands shaking, she opened Clarion's door without knocking and stepped inside. She froze as she heard Arturo's voice on a secured, untraceable line.

"I don't care what you do with that little bastard. Cut him into pieces. Feed him to your sister. Flush him through an airlock. Whatever. I don't pay ransoms to terrorists. Nor do I negotiate. As far as I'm concerned, he was dead the minute you took him. So shove your ransom demand up your ass and don't waste my time again." The counselor cut the transmission.

Stunned, Clarion cursed as he sat back in his chair.

Zarya couldn't believe what she'd just heard. The cold, harsh brutality.

Kere had been right. The counselor had no heart whatsoever. How could anyone be that viciously callous about the life of their own family?

The same man who killed your mother and sister for daring to ask for mercy for your father...

But that wasn't what concerned her most. By their actions today, her men had broken numerous League laws. And that was something that carried a harsh death sentence should they ever fall into League custody.

"Why did you shoot the princess?"

Clarion swung around in his chair like he was ready for battle. His features relaxed as he saw her. "I didn't. The prince did."

"What do you mean?"

Clarion pulled her tricom off his belt and set it on the desk in front of him.

Fury tore through her as she felt her waist to find it gone. "What exactly did you do?"

"After you told me what it was this morning, I borrowed it for today. Just in case. Boy, was I right and glad we had it."

Disgust for him overwhelmed her. That's what you get for having a thief as your second in command. He'd sworn to her that he was reformed. Obviously, he was as much a liar as he was a thief. "Are you completely insane?"

A tic started in his jaw. "Hey, the little prick opened fire on us. Had we not had it, one of us wouldn't have come home. Would you rather we be hurt?"

Reminding herself that she couldn't show her emotions or else she'd be replaced as their leader, she took it off his desk, and counted to ten. The one thing she hated about being Caronese, they were a patriarchal race and in the mind of most men, women didn't belong in the military or in politics. And as leader of the Resistance, she was neck deep in both.

Still, she wanted to beat him for what he'd done. "Of course not, but you had no right to take this from me. It wasn't designed for you."

"Sue me, then, okay? Besides we have bigger problems." Clarion sat back in his chair. "What do I do with a prince no one wants?"

"I don't know, Captain Intelligent. You were the mastermind behind this fiasco. Fix it."

Clarion rolled his eyes. "How?"

Like she had a clue? "I'll talk to Kere and see what he thinks. Maybe the Sentella has something we can use to wipe his memory and we can dump him somewhere that they can find him."

"Fine. But while we have him, maybe we can use him."

Another fear settled deep inside her. After this mess, she wasn't sure of his intentions anymore. "What do you mean?"

Clarion wagged his eyebrows as a smile split his face. "Think about it, Z. As the royal prick, Darling can give us details about security on the palace and all the government buildings. There's no telling what all he's been privy to that could prove invaluable to us. Do I have your permission to interrogate him?"

She mulled the idea over. Clarion could be on to something. If they had details about security and Arturo's plans, it could save a lot of lives.

Still...

It's only an interrogation. She'd done dozens of them herself over the years with various prisoners. It wasn't like they were going to torture him or anything. A few questions before they released the prince.

What was the harm?

"If you must."

Clarion's smile widened. "Thank you."

Inclining her head to him, Zarya left his office and pulled her link out again. She tried Kere one more time, but again all she got was his voicemail.

C'mon, baby, answer me soon.

Then, she tried calling the Sentella who refused to do anything more than take a message for him.

Why wasn't he getting back to her? It wasn't like him to go this long without at least texting her a note to say he'd call her when he had a chance.

By the time she returned to her office, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach had bred babies. They were jumping up and down, until she was absolutely ill with nausea.

Kere was in trouble. She knew it. She could sense it with every part of her being.

But how could she find him when she didn't know who he really was?

5.

Darling hung from chains by his throbbing, bleeding wrists. Both of his legs had been broken repeatedly so that his wrists supported all his weight.

Unrelenting pain coursed through him with merciless knives that shredded every part of him...

It was unbearable. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness. The horror of his time here in Resistance custody blurred with his stints in mental institutions, and the times his uncle had punished him at home. They blended together into one unending nightmare of bitter agony.

I just want it to stop.

At this point, he wasn't sure how long he'd been held. It seemed like eternity, but since he couldn't see daylight, he had no way of gauging one day from another. Unless they were coming in to hurt him, which they did at random intervals, they kept the lights off. Something they thought added to his misery.

But it didn't. Courtesy of his mother's mutated genes, he saw as well in pitch-black darkness as he did in brightest sunlight.

Right now, his head swam and his empty stomach churned so much that he feared he might vomit again-something that made the muzzle tear into his throat and choke him with blood and bile. Worse, it produced a severe drowning sensation, like being waterboarded.

The pain and deprivation, as well as the fever he'd been burning, caused him to hallucinate. Sometimes he thought he saw his father. Or his uncle.

His friends.

But the two people who haunted him most were Maris and Zarya. They drifted in and out of the room like ghosts who tormented him with memories of better days. Of the happy future he'd thought to have.