Had she wanted to hurt you, she wouldn’t have saved you.

That seemed logical. But people were just so damn treacherous that logic seldom seemed to apply. End of the day, they were lying minsid snipes who seemed to get their jollies by causing as much mental pain to someone as they could.

If she was one of those . . .

He’d kill her as a public service.

Hadrian let go of the handle. “All right. I’ll stay . . . for a minute. You betray me . . .”

“You’ll kill me. I get it.” She started the transport again.

Still not sure of her intentions, he adjusted the backpack in his lap. “You really didn’t take a kill warrant?”

“No.” She jerked her chin at the small bag she’d put on the seat between them. “You can look at my original contract and see.”

Hesitant, he reached inside her pouch and pulled out her comm. “Code?”

She placed her finger against the screen.

It lit up to show him a screen full of junk he couldn’t read. “Trade license,” she said as she swung the transport toward the nearest landing bay.

Finally, the screen showed him a signed warrant that was written in Universal.

Hadrian scanned her contract. She was right. All she’d signed on to do was take him in. “You’re a licensed bounder and assassin?”

“Yeah.”

Interesting. Unless they were agents of the League, most assassins tended to be older. “Aren’t you a little young for that?”

He didn’t miss the pain that flashed in her eyes as she pulled her comm from his hand.

“That’s none of your business.”

“You’re hunting me for someone who lied to get a warrant. That makes this all about me.” He watched as she slid her comm back into her pouch.

“You have a point.”

Yes, he did. But he also had another question for her.“So, what happens when your original contract gets flipped to a kill warrant?”

When she responded, her tone was flat and emotionless. “If I don’t kill you, they’ll kill me.”

Made sense. Given what he knew about warrants, when one was assigned, the assassin either completed it or they were terminated.

She touched his arm. “But I’m not a killer.”

“Yeah, right. I saw the body count in the diner and your license.”

She cut a glare at him. “I’m a soldier, Hadrian. That license is to protect me from facing charges when I protect my own life and those I love. It’s not the same as cold-blooded murder.”

He wanted to argue, but she was right. He’d taken his own fair share of lives. Not because he’d wanted to.

Because he’d had no choice.

Kill or be killed.

The universe sucked and those who lived in it refused to let him live in peace, free of their meddling. Sooner or later, someone always came for him.

And honestly, it felt good to have someone call him by his real name for once. Not even Nero used it anymore for fear of someone overhearing it.