Retribution (Kall Alien Warriors #3) - Sue Lyndon Page 0,56

His warriors were outraged on his behalf, believing Layla had grievously wronged him. Most probably thought she was affiliated with the human rebels. But even so, her late husband’s sins legally belonged to her, decreed so by a Kall court. In his warriors’ eyes, Layla might as well have been the one to wield the knife against Shessema.

He stepped out into the corridor and quickly became uneasy by how crowded it was, warriors rushing by, likely to complete reports and attend debriefings before they reached Brutt District and could join their families.

He frowned at the thought of leading Layla through this horde of warriors. All eyes would be on them as they walked to the hangar, which was located on the other side of the ship from his quarters. He doubted any of his warriors would be so bold as to strike out at Layla, but it was a risk he could not take.

But if his warriors legitimately believed he intended to torture Layla once he brought her to his home? The rumors would stop and their concern would turn elsewhere.

Time. He needed more time. Time to safely hide Layla away, time to plan his trip to the local council building and demand a marriage license, assuming the stubborn human eventually agreed to become his wife.

A plan formed in his mind, one that Layla wouldn’t like. One she would regard as cruel, even if he explained his reasons. With a growl, he stalked to the brig, intending to retrieve an item necessary for his plan.

Curse Verrsuan traders and curse the Corrtass Empire and curse artificial wormhole technology.

Layla paced in front of the viewscreen, impatient for Zamek’s return, but also dreading it. Because as soon as he got back, they were leaving for Sumlin, where he intended to take her straight to the slave office.

She ran a hand through her hair and considered all she knew about the Custom of Retribution. Her stomach twisted and she felt nauseous while recalling some of the finer details of the practice.

Technically, Zamek was supposed to turn her body over to Kall authorities after he finished her off, or whatever was left of her. Not that he would hurt her like that—she was starting to trust him, and she no longer feared he would kill her. He’d made it perfectly clear that he wished to keep her.

But even if he made her a slave, wouldn’t Kall authorities eventually question his actions? It was a gray area, and it made her nervous.

The door zipped open and General Zamek strode into the room, a look of purpose about him. He was still wearing his full Kall uniform, and he was still armed, but he was also holding a pair of iron manacles.

She took a step back. “General?”

“We must leave now,” he said, his tone urgent. “I’m sorry, Layla, but this must be done. Come here and give me your hands.”

She hadn’t minded the plain dress that was clearly meant to make her appear more as a slave—honestly, after he’d destroyed her shirt, she felt lucky to be provided with any clothing—but manacles? Her heart sank.

“No,” she said, lifting her chin. “I will not wear those.”

“I don’t recall giving you a choice, human.” His visage hardened.

She thought of the auction she’d just watched, of the poor slaves who’d been naked and bound with manacles just like the ones Zamek held in his hands. Didn’t he realize how this made her feel? Like he saw her as less than a person.

He sighed and headed directly for her, but she bolted for the bathroom. His door had a lock and she intended to use it.

Satisfaction spread through her when she clicked the lock into place before he reached the door. With a resounding snarl, he banged on the door a few times.

“Layla,” he said in a warning tone, “you will open this door now.”

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t believe I will. Not until you throw those manacles away.” Most doors on Kall ships could be opened with a verbal command, assuming you had proper clearance to enter a particular room, but she’d recently noticed the bathroom door in Zamek’s quarters looked rather outdated. Apparently, she was right. If he could’ve opened it with a verbal command, he would’ve done so already.

“Layla, you’re the Kall expert here,” he said. “Surely you must understand the importance of appearances. I’m doing this to protect you.”

Tears blurred in her eyes. Fuckkk. Yeah, he probably thought he had good