Bonds of Brass (The Bloodright Trilogy #1) - Emily Skrutskie Page 0,49

are you selling this ship?”

Wen shrugs. “All started the day I got this.” She beams, prodding gingerly at the uneven, burned-looking skin on the right side of her face. “Wanna know how?”

“No, I want you to answer my ques—”

“Got a bit too close to the tail end of a Solstice-VI.” Something dangerously close to pride radiates from her, and I start to wonder if this ship is worth the proximity to this little maniac.

“You’re telling me a thruster did that to you?”

“Nah, a Cutter lieutenant. The thruster was an accomplice.”

“A—” My incredulity knocks me silent. I heard chatter about the Cutters on the local airwaves as we approached the city. Vicious mobsters who’ve taken root in Isla’s north side and become nigh impossible to weed out. Not the sort of people I can afford to be anywhere near.

Wen apparently doesn’t do too well with silence. “I was a runner for the Cutters. Guy thought I was skimming—which I wasn’t—or deliberately jumbling messages, which I would never dream of doing.”

“So he stuck your head in a Solstice’s tailpipe?”

“No, he asked nicely. We had a calm, rational discussion. I told him the truth, and he believed it. They’re all talk, those Cutter guys.”

“Really?”

“No, moron. He didn’t even ask me any questions. Just lit the candle and stuck my face in it until it melted. I’m lucky I got to keep the eye.” She shrugs, staring out across the lot through the cockpit windows. “Not like I was going to turn out pretty anyway. Now I scare people, and that’s more fun.”

“When did this happen?”

Another shrug. “Like a month ago.”

I struggle to keep my face blank as I stare at her.

“So, want to see the rest of the ship?”

I glance down at the controls under my hands. This isn’t worth it. Even if she gives me this ship for free, there’s no way I’m getting involved in whatever mess has tangled around this girl. It isn’t even the horrific story behind her burns that gets me—it’s the flippancy. Her scars are only a month old, and she’s already past caring about them. The fact that she’s capable of that scares me more than any gang boss ever could, and I don’t want to know what other nightmares Wen Iffan hides. “You know, I think I’m going to keep browsing if that’s okay.”

Wen deflates suddenly, slumping lower in the copilot’s chair. “Oh, come on. I’m handing you the perfect ship on an iron platter and you’re going to drop it because of my face?”

“I’m not…Look, you have a good face. Great eyes, yeah?” Which isn’t a lie—there’s something downright entrancing about her eyes, but I’m not about to let them suck me back in. “I need more time to think over what I’ve seen.”

“I don’t have time, Ettian. I gotta make a sale today, and I wasted precious minutes trying to get you to see how great this ship is.”

I stand, and Wen ducks her head. A twinge of guilt hits hard in the left side of my chest. She’d better not be—nope, she is. She’s crying. “Please don’t,” I hiss.

“I thought…something was going right for a change.”

“Don’t guilt me into this, Wen.”

“No, it’s fine. You should go.”

“I—”

The sudden crack of boltfire cuts me off. I drop to the floor on instinct, peering out through the open door. A squad of twenty people dressed in black have assembled in the dirt outside the skipship, all of them staring up at the cockpit. Is it obsidian black? My heart hammers against the floor.

Their leader steps forward, lifting a megaphone to her lips. “We know you’re in there, you turncoat bastard.”

Ruttin’ hell.

CHAPTER 11

WEN LUNGES FOR the cockpit door, slamming it shut and throwing down the locks. “Rocks and rust,” she mutters under her breath. “They’re after me.”

“They’re after you?” I stagger to my feet only to flinch when another bolt slams into the skipship’s side, warping the door where it hits.