The rebel who’d bent over his sister stood up. “I got bad news, guys. The bitch here is dead.”

Darling felt a single tear sliding from the corner of his eye as the rebel confirmed his worst fear.

His precious baby sister was dead.

Because of me.

Because of something he’d invented…

Over and over, he saw images of Lise reaching for him to hold or protect her. Saw the smile in her eyes and heard her laughter as she hugged him tight, and told him how much she loved her big brother. He’d been eight when she was born, and from the moment he’d first seen her bald head and those huge hazel green eyes staring at him, and she’d wrapped her tiny, baby fingers around his pinkie before gumming it, she’d owned his heart.

No matter their fights. No matter their differences. She had meant everything to him.

How could she be gone?

How could I have killed her?

The soldier closest to him cursed. “Are you sure?”

“See for yourself. The blast left a huge hole in her. What a waste, too. We could have definitely had fun with her while we waited for payment.”

Unmitigated fury, agony, and grief tore through Darling’s blackened soul.

How could he ever face his mother and brother after this?

How could he ever face himself?

Why couldn’t it have killed me, too?

One of the soldiers kicked him in the ribs. “Stupid son of a whore! Damn you, for screwing this up.” Aiming his blaster at Darling’s head, he looked over to Clarion. “You want me to kill this one, too?”

Snarling in anger, Clarion approached Darling. With the toe of his boot, he lifted Darling’s face so that he could see his features. The moment he did, a wide smile curved his lips. “Oh no, Davon. This… this is much better than even the princess.”

“How so?”

Clarion laughed again as he kicked Darling’s head. “What we have here, gentlemen, is the lovely cock-sucking royal fag himself. Darling Cruel. Caronese heir to the throne and future governor of our worthless empire. We just hit the mother lode of good fortune.” He clapped hands with Davon. “Get him on board before someone else sees him. He’ll be worth ten times what the princess was.”

His heart broken by what he’d inadvertently set into motion, Darling had no choice except to lay there as they grabbed him and ruthlessly dragged him onto their ship.

It would take at least four hours before the stun would wear off and he could move again, and tell them who he really was.

If not longer. Until then, he was as helpless as an infant. Worse, he could hear, feel, and see everything they did to him. But he couldn’t make a sound.

Or make a single move to protect himself.

It was just like being in the mental institutions all over again. One of the crueler regimens they’d used on him had been the paralytics that had kept him immobile and fully aware with elevated sensory drugs to heighten his senses while they “treated” him using various aversion therapies.