Star Bringer by Tracy Wolff

Author:Tracy Wolff
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Star Bringer;Star Bringer by Tracy Wolff;Star Bringer by Nina Croft;Star Bringer by Tracy Wolff and Nina Croft;Science Fiction;science fiction romance;sci-fi;sci-fit romance;adventure;space adventure;space opera;space opera romance;New York Times bestselling author;#1 New York Times bestselling author;firefly;LGBTQ;LGBTQIA books;queer;queer fiction;queer romance;Red Tower;Red Tower Books
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2023-04-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 43

Kali

I let out a little yelp of surprise.

Brent, on the other hand (no pun intended), lets out a piercing scream.

“Fuck! Shit! What the fucking Light?” Brent’s trying to pull his hand free, but Ian just presses down harder. I risk a quick glance at his face, then wish I hadn’t. His eyes are cold, deadly—vicious in a way I’ve never seen from him before, even when he was killing those men in the alley.

Brent’s turning green, sweat rolling down his forehead as he looks frantically between his hand and Ian’s face.

The bartender appeared in the doorway at the first scream. He takes one look and moves right back through the door.

“We need to hurry!” I urge, even as I can’t believe the words are coming out of my mouth. If anyone had told me a month ago that I’d be sitting at a bar on Glacea while the only person I’ve ever kissed casually stabs a stranger, I would have laughed them out of the palace. But here we are. And the chance that the bartender comes back with help gets higher every second we waste.

Ian must realize the same thing, because instead of trying to reason with the now bleeding, sweating Brent, he just twists the knife, opening up the wound so blood glugs onto the table.

Brent screams once more, but Ian ignores him.

“Shall we try again?” he asks in a reasonable tone. “What exactly was the cargo on the Reformer?”

“P-prisoners,” Brent stammers. “Just prisoners from that space station. Nobody important.”

I hear Ian’s indrawn breath, and suddenly his rage makes a lot more sense. “And where were you taking them?”

“Back to Askkandia. Ask the port supervisor. Our flight plan was filed. I’m telling you the truth.”

“No, you’re not.” He twists the knife again, back the other way this time, and I hear a sickening squelch as muscles and ligaments are severed.

Don’t puke. Don’t puke. Don’t fucking puke.

“Okay, okay. Stop. Please stop.” Brent’s full-on crying now, and I’m pretty close myself. I’d get up and leave, but I’m stuck here, chained to Ian for the foreseeable future, whatever that may bring. “We were taking them to the Wilds. We sell them out there. That’s the truth. Honest. Please. You’ve got to believe me.”

“Oh, I do,” Ian says. His face has gone pale. “Are you raiders?”

“No! No. I mean, yes, some of them—but not me, man. I don’t do that shit. I just fix comms. You gotta believe me.”

Ian’s expression doesn’t change. “Which asteroid?”

This time, Brent doesn’t hesitate. “Delta V47.”

“Come on. We’ve got what we need.” Ian pulls the knife free and stands up. “Just one more thing,” he says, then plunges the knife into Brent’s throat.

He makes a gargling noise, his hands scrambling to his neck as though he can hold in the blood that’s spurting everywhere. Ian pulls the knife free, calmly wipes it on Brent’s jacket, and slips it into the sheath at his thigh. Then he turns and walks away, grabbing the bottle and pulling me along.

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