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ALINA
The uhyre Lesthin was not gentle. He tore the leg of her trousers with one talon, nicking her knee further in the process and drawing a hissing cry from her raw throat.
Threxin stood against the wall at the other side of the room with his arms crossed over his chest, watching it all with infuriating indifference.
Her throat was raw because, since Threxin’s interception until he plopped her down in an alien exam room with a questionable alien medic, it had been constricting with sobs that Alina forced down. At some point she wasn’t even sure what she’d been crying about. Whether it was pain, or shame, or the fear of getting caught in her act of betrayal… or maybe even not getting caught when she realized Threxin was so worked up because she’d been hurt and not because he knew what happened.
She’d never seen him worked up before.
Her throat had been spasming, keeping it all down.
Alina did not know what giant needle the uhyre came at her with next, and when she tried to scramble away, leaning her weight on her swollen hand in the process, he curled his lip and restrained her. Carbon cuffs snapped to her forearms,then another set to her wrists. She wailed as the right one dug into the swollen flesh there. This could not be a doctor—it could not. Alina looked over the uhyre’s shoulder at Threxin, who seemed entirely unaffected by the brutality of it all. He simply crossed his stupidly long legs at the ankles against the wall and watched.
He didn’t care. He never goddamn cared.
“Why did you even bring me here if you don’t give a shit?” Alina felt like an idiot at the way her voice came out all whiny, and she couldn’t help it… When the green uhyre brought the needle to her knee, she started to sob like a damn baby.
“W-what is that? What are you doing? Please, are you sure—” She blubbered through the tears that refused to be stifled.
The alien told her to shut up in Apthian. Blood drained from Alina’s head, and she suddenly felt like she was freezing as he positioned the thick tip of the needle to her swollen kneecap. He barely touched it, but even that light initial touch sent fire through her leg. She ground her teeth, threw her head back, and screamed.
“Phost-ee,” the alien repeated his command for her to be quiet, and Alina threw her head forward and glared at him.
“You don’t get to boss me around too. You’re not the commander,” she hissed.
Threxin did react then, with a fucking guttural chuckle. The green uhyre’s apertures flicked with shared amusement as they exchanged looks.
“She is right,” Threxin mused in Apthian. When the green one turned away, his expression grew more sober. “Take it easy, Lesthin.”
Lesthin. So that was the name of her tormentor.
Lesthin seemed to listen, albeit begrudgingly. When he pressed the needle to the side of her knee it was with a modicum of gentleness he hadn’t used before.
Alina bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, refusing towatch the giant thing pierce her skin. There was a sucking feeling followed by a sense of hollowness beneath the kneecap as the pressure within her knee was eased. Too bad the excruciating pain remained. Alina chanced a squinted glance with one eye and saw that the uhyre was drawing something out into the gigantic syringe—a reddish-yellow liquid.
Alina’s stomach turned. “I’m gonna be sick.”
But she managed to keep her guts down until the needle was finally removed. She barely even noticed the subsequent injection gun coming for her leg, shooting something into the muscle. Pain relief? Anti-inflammatory? Poison?
The relief lasted only long enough for her to remember that there was another thing: her hand. She seized up when she saw the green uhyre Lesthin studying it through narrowed eyes. With a displeased grunt, he released the cuff holding her aching right wrist.
Lesthin was muttering to himself, but the words weren’t making sense anymore. The rush of blood in Alina’s ears dulled them, and the pounding in her head made her skull feel like it was about to explode. She shoved her head back and stared at the ceiling, sucking air in through her mouth.
One… Two… Three…
Fuck, this was useless. She just needed to be out of there. Everything hurt, and her arm itched and she couldn’t even scratch it. She heard a whine from her own throat as if it weren’t her making it, and her body in the chair thrashed and arched as if of her own accord.
“Alina Argoud,” the voice was muffled and far away.
He’d ambushed her, brought her here against her will, past all those people. People who had seen. She would’ve been fine. It wasn’t that bad. A knocked knee and a pinched hand—who cares? But he brought her there and handed her over to this… this… monster.
A sob racked through her.
“Alina Argoud,” he repeated, and her eyes unthinkingly went to the source.
She’d lost count. She had to start again.
One… Two… Three…
