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“I know someone like that,” Padam said. “You need to help Vegas. Galaxars have a duty to help the weak.”

“I wouldn’t say we’re weak,” Heather said.

Padam smiled at her indulgently. “You are so cute when you’re mad. Cute but weak.”

Heather flushed. “Solan, we need to get Vegas out of the cell before it’s too late.”

“I need to do nothing you tell me,” Solan said.

Padam’s smile faded. “We should help Vegas. It’s only right.”

Solan’s shoulders tightened. “You’re forgetting yourself, Padam.”

“I know my place. You’re the one who’s lost his way.” Padam grabbed hold of Solan’s arm and yanked him around. “You care about this human.”

“Time serving as a foot soldier will remind you how to respect Galaxar hierarchy.” Solan shoved Padam in the chest and sent him sprawling backward.

“Solan, you can’t abandon Vegas.” Heather planted herself in front of him. “She needs you.”

Padam grabbed hold of Heather’s shoulders and moved her to the side. “Stay out of this. When Solan gets angry, he has a hard time controlling himself.”

Solan’s anger spiraled through him. Everything he’d held back, his frustrations with Vegas, Boros’s challenge to fight for her, the way Vegas’s scent made him crazy with desire, flooded his veins like lava. “Are you challenging me?”

Padam slammed a fist into Solan’s face. “I guess I am.”

Chapter 15

Despite the fierceness of Padam’s blow, Solan’s head barely moved. “What is wrong with you? Has the contaminated station air affected your judgment?”

“My judgment is fine. You’re the one who needs to check yourself,” Padam snarled.

Olid grabbed glasses from the bar. “Take your fight elsewhere. I don’t want to have to spend out on replacing stock.”

“My officer has taken leave of his senses. He needs to be disciplined,” Solan said, not taking his gaze from Padam.

“I’m sane. You are avoiding your feelings.” Padam swiped at him.

Solan ducked the strike. “I know what I feel.”

“Admit you like Vegas. Let’s go and help her.”

“Please, do,” Heather said. “She doesn’t have long.”

The fearful note in Heather’s voice stirred concern in Solan. He shook it away. Padam needed to pay for hitting him. Clenching his fists, he advanced on Padam.

Padam stood his ground as the first punch landed. He deflected several more.

“Help Vegas,” he growled.

“She. Does. Not. Want. Me.” Each word was punctuated with a blow.

Padam slammed into tables, scattering chairs and smashing glasses. He shot around Solan and darted in to strike his side.

Solan winced but twisted and landed a hand on Padam’s neck. He grabbed him in a choke hold. They smashed into a table and hit the ground.

Heather gasped and took a step toward them.

Olid ran around the side of the bar and held her back. “Don’t get in the way. You will be crushed.”