Starfall (Starflight #2)(80)
“What if I’d never found out the truth? What would you have done?”
He gripped the cell bars and watched her with an intensity that made it difficult to hold his gaze. “I would’ve fought like a dog by your side. And after Marius was dead, I would’ve told you how I really felt. I would’ve given you the kind of kiss men write songs about. The kind that—”
“Got it, thanks,” she interrupted. “Make your point.”
His ears were fuchsia now. “I would have convinced you to form a republic. And if that failed, I would’ve kept you safe during the takeover.” He raked his fingers through his hair, disrupting the electrodes. “More than anything, I would’ve cherished you, Cassia. Because I meant it when I said you were destined for great things. You’re strong and resourceful, and I’m completely in love with you.”
She looked away. The truth hurt more than the lies.
“I hope that counts for something,” he said.
She nodded because she knew he’d meant it. “You know what’s funny? You and Kane wanted the same thing all along. The difference is he was honest about it, even when it drove a wedge between us, and you lied to keep me complacent.”
“I did what I had to do. If I’d told you the truth that day in Marius’s dungeon, would you have agreed to amend the charter?”
“I don’t know.” She might have. She’d been awfully desperate at the time. “But either way, the choice should’ve been mine. You took that away from me, and I’ll never be able to forget it.”
“So what happens now?”
That was a good question. She didn’t know what her next step would be, but she started by picking up his pistol and tucking it beneath her waistband. After some searching, she found a few bottles of water and set them within his reach, then she strode away and left him behind.
He wasn’t her general anymore.
When she reached the doors leading to the main security station, she pulled them shut and waved over a guard. “Bolt these,” she told the man. “There’s an infestation in one of the cell blocks—mutated lice.” She faked a shiver. “Jordan set off a fogger and went out the back. He said no one should go in for at least forty-eight hours. Understood?”
The man dug a nervous finger in his scalp. “Yes, Highness.”
“Good,” she said. “Now, assemble everyone who’s not sick. I want to see what I’m working with.”
After finishing his last set of dumbbell curls, Kane pulled off his T-shirt and used it to wipe his sweaty face. His muscles ached from the workout, but it was a good burn, the kind of pain that led to something greater. As proof, he faced the mirror and flexed his right arm.
Damn.
Then he flexed the left one.
Double damn.
His biceps were off the leash. He had to hand it to his boss. The man was a total nut-buster, but he sure knew how to sculpt bodies. If Kane had known he could look like this, he would’ve bulked up years ago. He could almost bench three hundred pounds, not as much as some of the other guys, but enough that he stood a chance of winning his first fight tonight.
He took a swig of water and peered past dozens of fighters milling around the room until he found his boss demonstrating proper technique on the leg press. “Hey, boss,” Kane shouted, then waited for the Redshirt to glance up. “Can I go for a run on the beach?”
The man’s mouth pulled into a predictable frown. The first guests had arrived a couple of days ago, and for some reason the pit fighters weren’t supposed to mingle with them.
“The sun’s barely up,” Kane added. “No one’s out there.”
“Yeah, all right.” The boss pointed to a fighter walking out of the washroom, a mountain of a man who was yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Kane recognized him from his first day in the dorm. “Take Cutter with you.”
Cutter shifted a glare at Kane, clearly uninterested in a predawn run and resentful of being volunteered for the task. Kane offered the man a shrug. He wasn’t happy about it, either. He didn’t need a babysitter, but he knew better than to argue. When the boss was in a good mood, he was a lot more generous with the Gold.
“Can I have a bump to get me through?” Kane asked.
Cutter raised a hand. “Me too.”
The Redshirt unhooked his golden inhaler from the cord around his neck. He handed it to Cutter, who took a puff and closed his eyes to bliss out for the rush. Cutter’s neck went slack, and he tilted back his head, chanting nonsense at the ceiling. It was a common side effect to speak in tongues. The Gold was that good. None of them even bothered with the old inhalers anymore. Kane reached for the tube, already salivating for a taste, but his boss intercepted it and pointed it at Kane’s bare stomach.
“What’s that?”
Kane glanced down and noticed the tracker lodged in his belly button. He kept forgetting it was there. “Just a piercing.”
“Take it out before your opponent does it for you.”
Out of nowhere, a sudden rage erupted inside Kane’s chest. He wanted the Gold now, not five minutes from now. He stared at the inhaler while batting down the urge to wrench it away from his boss. Then quickly he spun around to save himself from making a mistake he’d regret later.