Chapter 6 · Prisoner's Price

"Say it again," Sila said, pressing the shock baton under my jaw. "Tell me I need you."

The charge snapped against my throat. My knees hit the metal floor, and every loose bolt in my left leg screamed at once.

"You need my code," I said. "Not me. Big difference."

Her fingers tightened around the baton. The smell of scorched dust crawled up my nose. Behind her, two rebels watched from the doorway with rifles aimed at my chest. They had locked my wrists to a pipe, stripped my tools, and taken the power cell from my spine port.

Sila still looked like she wanted to break something.

Preferably me.

"You are in no position to argue definitions," she said.

"Funny. I thought rebels liked free speech."

"We like breathing. You keep making that difficult."

She leaned closer. Her jacket brushed my shoulder. Heat came off her skin even in the cold maintenance bay, and her breath touched the side of my face when she spoke.

I hated that I noticed.

I hated more that she noticed me noticing.

"Give me the access string," she said. "You get water, a clean recharge, and a place in the convoy.