Kyler's Justice (Assassins of Gravas Book 3) - N.J. Walters Page 0,22

eye twitched. This situation grew more complicated with each passing second. The two girls were seers. That kind of talent was rarer than titansteel and coveted by many. If word got out, they would be hunted—killed or caged, depending on who took them.

The tears of the youngest one were a stain on his soul that would never be scrubbed clean. Her talent was incredible. The details of her drawings rendered to perfection. She put so much into her work. And he’d erased it without hesitation.

And still, she’d waved at him when she’d left. Hope still shining in her eyes. The older one was more realistic. There’d been only resignation on her face.

For that alone, he’d kill both Helldrick and Balthazar.

They had no honor. Any man of Gravas would give his life to protect such treasures. Children were the greatest gift a man could be given.

Theirs was a warrior culture, based on discipline and honor. That was what the outside worlds saw and feared. It was an image they cultivated and encouraged. But beneath it all, the reason for their advanced tech and unbeatable space fleet was to protect their families.

It was the heartbeat of their culture.

Etta and her sisters had never had that.

Etta expected to die. Her acceptance of that stoked the flames of fury within him. For the first time in his life, fear grabbed him by the throat. If she was involved in the scheme to kidnap the king’s son and steal Gravasian tech, there was nothing he could do to save her.

Pain spiked through his brain. Holding his body rigid, he rode out the tsunami threatening to smash him beneath the weight of his responsibilities.

“Are you okay?”

That she would even ask him that shamed him. She was far too good for the likes of him.

He was her judge and jury. And if necessary, her executioner.

He motioned to a comfortable-looking chair. “Tell me everything.” Until he knew the entire story, he would make no promises.

She stumbled toward the seat. He put out a hand to help but let it drop without touching her. He needed to remain emotionless and uninvolved. There was another chair, so he pulled it forward, keeping a low, wooden table between them.

Etta rubbed her hands over her thighs. “I have to start two years ago. My mother died when I was younger than Maggs. When I was twenty-one, one of her friends turned up at Hell’s Gate with a small inheritance. I took it and ran.” Her expression was one of defiance. “I had no other choice. And Yonna was here to look out for the girls.”

She leaned back against the cushioned seat and sighed. “I moved constantly, never staying in one place for long.”

“You expected Balthazar or Helldrick to come after you.” Not a question. Men like that would see her as their property, not as a treasure to protect. The bruise on her face was proof.

“No one leaves Hell’s Gate without Helldrick’s permission—not any of the staff, the women he’s had over the years, and certainly not his children. We’re all possessions to him.”

He’d read the reports he’d been given. And when Ivar, the king’s son, had been rescued from Balthazar’s stronghold of Tortuga, the entire settlement had been run the same way. No one got in or out with Balthazar’s permission, which always involved a tribute or favor. The alternative was death.

In this, the son was more brutal than the father.

“I moved constantly, but there’s always work in the kitchens of restaurants and bars. I learned a trade.” There was pride in her voice. “I’d been working here since I was a kid, but the experience and training I received made me better.”

He still hadn’t tasted her food, likely wouldn’t have the opportunity to now. Not that he had much to compare it to. Prepackaged and reconstituted food made up most of his diet—easy and tamper-proof.

What would it be like to eat something she’d prepared? Some of the dishes that had come out of the kitchen had looked and smelled delicious. Temptation was something new and unwanted, but everything about her was designed to test the limits of his resolve.

“I thought I was safe. I stayed somewhere too long.”

“Balthazar found you.” It was all too easy to imagine her working away, believing she’d gotten away from this life, only to be pulled back again. To realize she’d never truly been free.

“He told me Yonna had died. Reminded me I had two young sisters. The bastard studies people, learns their weaknesses, and