Little did the Resistance know, they’d done his uncle a huge favor today. For once, Arturo wouldn’t have to fabricate a story as to why his “obstacle” had died by an assassin’s hand. Arturo would dance for joy that his enemies had killed his nephew for him.

And the men around him were going to get what they deserved. Arturo as their permanent governor. An uncontested leader who hated them as much as they hated him. One who would take the same amount of pity on them as they’d shown Darling and his sister.

None whatsoever.

May the gods help them now that he wouldn’t be there to protect them from Arturo’s wrath.

Yeah, fate was a bitch, but she always had a wicked sense of humor. Today, he was her punch line.

Tomorrow, she’d be laughing at them.

Darling’s thoughts turned to Zarya. He wanted to believe she had nothing to do with this. That she’d never sanction such cruelty from her men.

But he knew better.

Clarion had the very weapon he’d designed for her. A weapon she’d worn on her body just last night, and had promised she wouldn’t take off no matter what. The only way for Clarion to have it was for her to have given it to him.

I’m such a fool.

He’d let his love for her blind him to her true nature. She was just like everyone else. Selfish. Heartless.

Cruel.

Don’t doubt her. Maybe he stole it.

Darling ruthlessly held on to that single hope until they landed and the men roughly dragged him off the ship. Like his palace guards, they took pleasure in causing him as much pain as possible.

They were halfway through the hangar he knew as well as his own when he heard Zarya’s voice off in the distance.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded as she closed the distance between them.

Pip answered. “We captured the effing heir, Darling Cruel. Can you believe it? How lucky are we? Bastard fell right into our hands.”

Darling couldn’t lift his head to see Zarya, but he prayed she would recognize him and stop this madness. Surely, she would know his body.

His scars.

True she’d never seen them in any kind of light, but she’d felt every inch of his body with her hands and tongue enough that she should know it by now. Couldn’t she sense it?

If nothing else, she should recognize the tattoo on his shoulder blade that marked him as a Sentella soldier and an assassin. While it was custom designed, it still bore enough semblance to the Sentella’s emblem that she’d have to know it. Surely… Not to mention the wound in the middle of his tattoo that she’d castigated him over just two nights ago.

Please, Z. Please see me…

He’d never needed her more than he did right now.

“Why is he naked?” she asked.

“His clothes fell off.” Pip laughed. “Don’t worry, though. We’ll get some beggar’s best for His Highness.”