Page 9

“I warned you,” someone spat.

Ryneth’s body moved before his brain caught up. He half-rose from the seat, the harness biting hard across his chest and jerking him short. One hand came up out of habit, palm open, as if he could push them back with nothing but stubbornness.

A gloved hand caught his forearm, hard enough to bruise. Another fist crashed across his face. Ryneth’s head snapped sideways, his teeth cutting into the inside of his cheek. Copper flooded his mouth.

The static surged anyway. He swallowed it back on instinct, every muscle locking down as he forced it inward. His vision blurred at the edges, heat crawling under his skin, but nothing jumped. Nothing showed.

The men swore anyway, more irritated than alarmed. “Careful,” one barked. “Concordant keeps their assets intact. Especially a pretty boy like that. Don’t damage the merchandise.”

Concordant.

The name hit him like a blow.

Concordant was a word people only used in whispers. A story told behind locked doors, about the ones who took people and left empty beds behind.

“Concordant?”

Saying it out loud made his stomach drop.

Lysa’s breath hitched. “No—no, that’s just stories,” she whispered, knuckles white around her harness.

Karo went rigid beside her, his bravado gone in an instant. “They don’t come this close to Helion, do they?”

“Stop,” Lysa choked out. “Just stop talking.”

The nearest man swung the gun a fraction toward her. “Quiet.”

Ryneth stood before he could breathe again. “Leave her alone!”

The man turned his visor back to Ryneth. “Or?”

The shock-stick slammed into Ryneth’s ribs. Pain lanced through him. An electric burn coiled in his chest, trying to meet it. For a second, he couldn’t tell where he ended and the shock began. His knees buckled as the world tilted and he hit the floor hard enough to knock what little air he had left from his lungs.

Voices blurred around him.

“Finish restraining them,” the leader ordered. “We’re still on course for Helion. Five hours out. Once we land, sort the lot by destination and prepare transfer to buyer routes.”

Good Light.

The words hit like ice, sending dread through him so fast it turned his stomach.

They were still taking them to Helion, only now Helion was no longer where the journey ended. They were landing there to sort them, to move them, to send them wherever they had been sold.

This had been a worker shuttle. A job. Money. A future for him and his foster family.

This was meant to be safe.

Ryneth tried to push himself up, but his arms shook. Hands rolled him onto his side. Cold restraints bit around his wrists and ankles, locking with dull clicks against the deck. Something rough slid over his head, down past his eyes, his mouth, cinching closed at his throat. The inner lining tingled faintly as it settled. The world narrowed to darkness and the scratch of mesh against his lips. Air still reached him, barely enough to breathe.

He felt Lysa’s fingers brush his ankle. He tried to answer her, to say her name, but the hood stole the shape from his voice.

“Ryneth!” she cried. The sound cut off as if someone yanked her back.

“Tower, upload the manifest,” a voice said close to his covered ear. “Begin bidding. Mark this one premium.”

They were going to sell them off.

Could this be what happened back home?