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He dragged his eyes up to hers. “I thought, shit, why not? We’re both gonna die, might as well let myself fall for you. But it was always a dead end. We both knew that, right?”
“Fuck you,” she mumbled, a tear spilling over her cheek. She batted it away with a short growl, and he understood the frustration. She might get water rations here, but wasting them crying wasn’t the best use of them. “What, did the ‘falling’ just stop at the end? Conveniently dissipate at the first sign of rescue?”
He should say that. He should tell her he realized it was all just desperate reaching by a flailing mind before death.
“When rescue came, I realized what an asshole I’d been.” His voice dropped a hoarse octave. “It never would’ve worked with us. If I hadn’t done what I did, you’d be in here too, looking like this.” He motioned to himself, bare chest littered with cuts and bruises.
He pulled back, but there was nowhere to go when she shifted from her heels to her knees, sliding forward between his sprawled legs. The electric baton clattered to the ground, metal clanking as it rolled. She smelled clean, freshly washed. Her hands pressed gingerly on his legs, and he fought back a flinch at the jolt of pain as she put pressure on covered bruises. The feel of her palms against his thighs over the fabric was worth it.
“You didn’t have the right to make that call alone,” she said, so close that her breath washed over his cheeks, and he had to pretend his hand was glued to the floor to avoid reaching up to touch her face.
“If I hadn’t, wouldyouhave made the right call?”
“Yes.” She straightened, the added distance pulling his body forward like a rubber band until it snapped, leaving him with the keen sting of disappointment when she stood.
Tessa bent over to pick up the baton. So that was it—the goodbye, finally. He gave her too little credit down there, thinking he needed to force her hand into making the right choice. Turns out she would’ve done it all along.
Stepping back, she looked him over with a calculating squint. She took a few paces back and forth, fingers twitching one by one as if in a silent count.
“Get up and get ready,” she finally stilled. “We’re gonna move fast.”
What?
“What?”
“From the elevator outside the brig, it’s a straight shot up to the docking bay. Two decks, about forty seconds.” She glanced at the back of her hand for the time projection. “We have to move. They’re probably already on the way.”
He knew whotheywere—his interrogators were very punctual.
“Tessa,” he warned, pushing himself to his feet. “Don’t be stupid.”
“No,youdon’t be stupid.” She rounded on him. “You already madeyourunilateral decision. It’s my turn.”
She left the cell door open as she walked back toward the door. “Get ready.”
Fuck.
CHAPTER13
TEZ
Peron was thankfully still alone out there, but they didn’t have much time.
“I need you in there,” Tez grinned, twirling the baton in her hand.
“What’d you do to him, Tez?” Peron grinned gleefully as he got up and slinked toward her. He jerked back, eyes widening when he stood in the doorway of the brig holding area and saw Stag outside of his cell. “Shit!” He moved to turn around, but the prod pressing against his spine—deactivated, for now—made him halt.
“Sorry about this,” Tez said, pushing him forward and into the cell. She yanked the comms bracelet off his bony wrist before shutting the barred door, leaving Peron in there with a confused look on his face.
“Tez… what the fuck?”
“Sorry, Per,” she repeated. “They’ll be here soon to let you out.”
Turning to Stag, she jerked her head toward the door. “Let’s go.”
The going was difficult. The man had been beaten to a sad state, limping along so slowly that she had to support his weight as she dragged him toward the elevator.
When the elevator doors opened, her stomach dropped. Three men dressed in black overalls stood inside, and one of them was Tristan.
