There was no Kere left anymore. Kere had been a champion for people like her and Pip and Timmon and Clarion.

The last thing Darling desired was to help anyone now. All he wanted was for them to die slowly and painfully.

Just kill me. Please. For the love of the gods, have some compassion. A pittance of human decency. Even rabid animals were given more mercy than this.

She’d already ripped his heart out. Why wouldn’t she finish him off?

Suddenly a shrill alarm rang in short, staccato bursts.

Shouting orders and questions, people ran along the hallway outside an instant before the door to his room burst open.

Clarion paused as he saw Zarya. His look of shock turned to relief—an expression that only confirmed the fact that she must have known what they’d been doing to him. “The Sentella’s here.”

Her face lit up. “Is Kere with them?”

“I don’t know. They came in hard and shooting at us.”

Her happiness died. “What?”

“Yeah. Pip said they’re seriously pissed off over something. Damned if I know what.”

She scowled in disbelief. “That makes no sense. We haven’t done anything. Why would our allies attack us?”

Darling wasn’t sure if all of this was real or if he was hallucinating again. He’d imagined his rescue so many times…

It’s not real and you know it.

No one’s ever going to release you.

Clarion pulled his blaster from its holster. “I’m going to meet Pip at the con room. He was trying to talk to Nemesis, but he said it was ugly. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

Zarya did her best to make sense of why the Sentella would attack them when they’d always been their best allies. But at least she’d get some answers now. “Send me word immediately when you find out what’s going on.”

Nodding, Clarion left.

Fear cramped her stomach. She turned back toward the prince and for the first time, she realized the horrendous condition he was in. Granted she’d been furious over Kere, but how had she failed in her anger to see what a wretched mess they’d made of him?

And the smell in his room…

She gagged on it.

What was that? It smelled like a herd of something had died and rotted.

Pressing her hand to her nose to block the foul odor, she cringed at what her soldiers had done to the poor man who hung from the ceiling by chained, raw wrists. His long red hair was matted and gnarled with blood and dirt. A thick auburn beard obscured his features and like his hair, it was matted with blood and something she thought might be vomit.

His naked body was bleeding and bruised everywhere. So much so, that there was a pool of blood, both dried and fresh, on the floor around his ravaged feet.

She couldn’t even begin to count the bruises and cuts that marred his frail body. A body that had been ripped when they’d brought him in.