Page 43 of Enslak

"Niki." Her voice was softer than I'd ever heard it. "I heard what the family decided. Are you okay?"

"No," I said immediately. The word came out raw, honest. "No, I'm not okay. They want to kill him, Binwee. They want to—" My voice cracked. "He's still in there. I know he is."

Binwee's eyes searched my face. "How can you be sure?"

"His brainwaves," I said, turning to George desperately. "Tell her. Tell her what you saw."

George nodded slowly. "When Niki speaks to him, when she touches him, there's measurable neural activity. Specific patterns that indicate recognition, response. It's not just random firing—it's targeted, purposeful."

"He knows I'm there," I said, my hands clenching into fists. "He's trapped, but he's fighting." I couldn't finish the sentence.

Binwee's jaw tightened. She looked at George. "You're certain about this? The brainwaves?"

"As certain as I can be with the equipment I have," George said.

Binwee was quiet for a long moment, her gaze distant. Then her expression hardened into something resolute, almost dangerous.

"Then we're not letting them do this. We're getting him out."

My heart lurched into my throat. "What?"

"I didn't risk my life on Merisalle to watch his brother chop his head off," Binwee said firmly. "If you can reach him—and I think you can—then we're stealing him."

I stared at her, my mind reeling. Stealing him. Stealing the son of the Alliance Prime—the most powerful being in the known universe. The woman who commanded fleets, who'd unified a thousand worlds, who could end civilizations with a word.

"Binwee," I said slowly, trying to process what she was suggesting. "Do you understand what you're saying? This isn't just... we can't just take him. His mother is—"

"I know exactly who his mother is," Binwee interrupted. "I've served under her for close to a century."

"Then you know this is insane." My voice rose despite myself.

"Probably," Binwee agreed, maddeningly calm.

George cleared his throat. "Niki's right. The Prime's reach is extensive. If we do this, we're not just committing a crime—we're declaring ourselves enemies of the Alliance itself."

"I know," Binwee said.

"Even if we get away," I said, my voice breaking, "even if we somehow evade the most powerful military force in existence, what then? We hide forever? We spend the rest of our lives running?"

"Maybe," Binwee said. "Or maybe you reach him. Maybe he wakes up. And maybe—just maybe—when the Prime sees her son alive and whole, she'll forgive us."

"And if she doesn't?"

Binwee's smile was grim. "Then at least we tried."

I looked at Enslak, at his peaceful, beautiful face. At the body that had been tortured and broken and somehow healed. At the man who'd carried me through sewers and held my hand in the darkness.

"He protected you through that entire escape," Binwee reminded me. "He made tactical decisions. He carried you through the sewers to keep you safe from the filth. He fought a dozen guards while bleeding out because he understood you needed to survive." She leaned forward. "That's not a mindless animal. That's a warrior who's still fighting."

I looked at Enslak's still face. At the male who'd spoken one word to reassure me even as he was dying.

This was madness. Absolute madness.

"Okay," I whispered. "Okay. Let's do it. Where do we take him?"

"A planet called Allacesarayre." I could see her mind spinning behind her bright blue eyes. "Remote. Beautiful. No settlements. If anywhere can help him heal, it's there."

"This is treason," George said quietly. But he was already loading medical supplies into a case. "If we're caught—"