As for the aristos in the prison shuttle with her… they were terrified, too. Someone needed to give them hope.

“We’re not dead yet,” she said with a conviction she didn’t feel. “Stay strong. Don’t let them defeat us.”

“We’re League prisoners,” one of her men sneered. “Do you not know what’s going to happen to us when we land? What they’re going to do to us?”

Hopefully, they’d be a little more merciful than Pip and crew had been to Darling.

Not wanting to think about that, Zarya patted the man on his shoulder, trying to calm him. Darling would remember his name. But while she recognized his face from missions they’d done together in the past, she couldn’t recall his name or position no matter how hard she tried. “I do. And I’m one of the primary ones they’ll focus their attention on… But I also know people who’ve survived their custody, and they were a lot younger and more inexperienced than we are. Plus, I know for a fact that Governor Cruel won’t allow them to keep us.”

Pip sneered at her. “You’re about to learn a harsh lesson, little girl. You’re nothing to him. Just another replaceable whore.” He raked a harsh glare over her body. “Probably not even that. I’ve heard his tastes run more along the line of pretty young boys.”

She met his glare with one of her own. “You know nothing about him. And if you refer to him again with anything other than the utmost respect in your tone, you won’t have to worry about prison or the League. I’ll fucking kill you with my own bare hands.”

Those words had the effect she wanted them to. Everyone sucked their breath in and held it. No one had ever heard her use such language before. It wasn’t in her nature.

But she was through watching others insult Darling when all he’d ever done was try to help them.

Her conviction fortified by that rage, she scanned the soldiers and aristocrats around her. “We are not pawns. We are not victims. We are Caronese—one of the greatest races in the United Systems. And we’re warriors for a cause. All of us. I’ve bled with most of you and mourned injustice with you all. Yes, the League has us for the moment, but the fight doesn’t end here and neither do we. Others have defied them and lived.”

“Who?” one of the aristocratic women challenged her. “Name me one they haven’t killed.”

“Nykyrian Quiakides.”

Furstan, who’d been one of her more trusted commanders, scoffed. “We’re not trained assassins. He survived only because he was one of them.”

“True. But I’ve met the man many times and while he is a great fighter, I saw our governor toss him flat on his butt in a fight.”

Half the Resistance laughed in mockery, but she could see the doubt in their eyes.

“I saw him do it,” one of the aristos said. “I was there and she’s right. The governor got past him like he was a civ.”