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But I did it anyway, because my mate’s needs had to come before my own.

I tucked myself under his wing and slid my hand under his coat to rest on his back. At my touch, he let out a breath and relaxed just a bit.

“We need to debrief,” I said. “But first, how did she find you?”

Jarrix wrapped his tail around my leg and looked at Byx. “I used untraceable funds,” he said. “We’ve been running silent since leaving Ghira. You said the Bandit is clean. We know Captain Shaw—” he nodded at me “—doesn’t have a tracker on her.”

“Then you do,” Byx said, his voice grim. “Come with me, both of you. We’re going to medbay.”

It took more than an hour and seven different scans in Trakhan's state-of-the-art medical bay to find the tracker hidden in Jarrix’s body. Only after four additional scans were Byx, Jarrix, and the head physician finally convinced it was the only one.

At some point—Jarrix wasn’t sure when—someone had taken advantage of him being injured and undergoing medical treatment at a GAIS facility to drill into his right horn and implant a tracker so advanced that numerous medpod scans and other checks hadn’t located it. The repairs to his horn had been flawless as well. I wouldn’t have believed it possible if I hadn’t seen its outline on that seventh scan myself.

Neither of us had to wonder who’d ordered it done. I heard Gitto’s furious voice in my head in a loop: You are my asset. You are my asset. You are my asset.

I stood in a white corridor outside the surgical suite, watching through a window as Jarrix underwent the procedure to have the tracker removed. Byx had a plan to use it to draw Gitto away from us when we eventually left the outpost. The device had to be handled in a way that wouldn’t alert her that it had been removed—hence the necessity for an extremely controlled environment and for Jarrix to be unconscious in addition to the use of strong painkillers while the physician did his work.

The tracker was such a sickening violation that my stomach hadn’t stopped churning for two straight hours.

“Are you all right, my friend?” Felina asked, her voice soft.

She and her children had been rushed into the station’s most impenetrable safe room the moment security realized who was really disembarking from the supposed merchant vessel they’d allowed to dock. Once Gitto’s ship was well away and Byx determined it was safe, she’d emerged to keep me company.

I would never have said I wanted or needed company until perhaps today, when I had to stand out here and watch a solemn Haboori physician wearing a full-body sterile suit cut into my unconscious mate’s beautiful horn.

Felina’s soft fingers brushed my hand. I was tugging at the collar of my flight suit without realizing it. I folded my arms and focused on Jarrix’s still form, also covered by a sterile suit, but the ghostly sensation of my gladiator collar remained.

You are mine. My fighter. My asset.

“He is in the best of hands,” Felina said, unaware of the memories clawing at the inside of my skull. “Doctor Kel’parigan is the finest surgeon in this sector.”

I cleared my throat, grateful for the distraction. “This is a surprisingly advanced medbay. Most deep-space outposts don’t have facilities nearly this good, or top physicians on staff.” And I had the scars to prove it.

“When I became pregnant, my beloved Byx wanted me to have the best medical care,” Felina said, still in that quiet, soothing voice. “It is good that others benefit as well.” She rubbed my upper arm. “Byx will ensure you and your mate can leave the station safely and evade this person. He is quite good at what he does.”

“I believe it,” I said absently. I was rubbing my throat again. I abruptly dropped my hands to my sides. “I wish I could have shot her.”

I hadn’t really meant to say it aloud, but Felina let out a little hiss of agreement. “I believe she would have deserved it.” She tugged gently on my arm. “Come have tea with me, Adelaide. They will tell us when the procedure is finished and Garon is awake.”

I was suddenly done using false names with Byx and Felina. Pseudonyms weren’t for friends like these.

“My name is Keela,” I said. “And his is Jarrix.” I put my hand on the window. “I need to stay here. He would stay if it were me.” Nothing could have dragged him away, in fact. Not even Byx.

Siber had told me Jarrix had tried to stay by the medpod aboard the Nivilus after we left Ghira Station, and had only left when she’d threatened to unleash aggressive security measures.

“I would not leave if it were my Byx.” She made some gestures at one of the security officers who were guarding us on her mate’s orders.

Two of them disappeared and returned moments later carrying seats for us—one designed for a humanoid, and the other for Felina’s much different body and number of arms and legs.

I sank into my plush chair and fought the urge to drop my head into my hands. My tattered pride and my need to keep watch over Jarrix won out over the weariness and overwhelming emotions cascading through my body.

“Thank you,” I told Felina. “For the chair, and for staying.”

“Of course.” She caressed my arm and folded herself comfortably into her seat. “You need not talk. I am simply here.”

Those four words—I am simply here—meant more to me than I could possibly have expressed. Never had anyone simply been here for me until Jarrix and now Felina.

I fixed my gaze once again on Jarrix and tried to deal with the chaos in my head.