the pleading expression on her face. She had hit her limit and needed to rest. Not about to let her sleep in another cell, he took a step toward the door but stopped as soon as he heard Savage’s gruff voice.
“You’re not going to a cell,” Savage said coldly. “You’re going on a long-haul transport ship to Prime where you’re going to be tried, found guilty and hanged as a Tier One Terrorist.”
Terror stormed to the one-way glass. What the fuck did he just say?
As if sharing his shock, Maisie blinked and frowned. She must have thought that she had misread Savage’s lips because she asked, “Write it out. All of it. Word for word.”
Savage snatched the tablet from Keen, swiped across the screen a few times and then slammed it down in front of Maisie. “The charges, you little murderous bitch.”
Maisie paled as she scanned the tablet. She shook her head and tried to use her hands to sign, but the cuffs tightened and she couldn’t. Her panicked gaze jumped to the mirrored glass, and Terror’s stomach dropped at her silent and desperate begging. She didn’t have to say a single word for him to understand the look on her face.
Furious that Savage had decided to charge Maisie with bullshit crimes, he rushed out of the observation room and over to the interrogation door. Wither, Savage’s adjutant, stood outside the door as a guard. He was a rookie Shadow Force agent, fresh out of training and without a single minute of actual operational experience. The cocky bastard dared to lift his hands to stop Terror.
“Get your hands out of my face,” Terror warned, his voice malicious and tight. “Unless you’d like to confirm the story about my skill in gnawing off a finger or two.”
Wither’s face slackened, and he stepped aside. Doubtless, he had heard the wild tales of Terror’s exploits in his younger days. Back then, he had been violent and bloodthirsty. He hadn’t ever hesitated at biting off a finger in a fight or using his teeth to rip at an enemy’s neck or ears.
Terror tapped the frame of the door to activate the opening mechanism. It slid to the side, and Savage glared at him as he entered the frigid room. “You’re not cleared for access to these areas!”
“What?” Terror flashed his wrist. “You’re really surprised I reprogrammed my chip to cut the leash you put one me?”
“That’s a violation of your probation,” Savage reminded him. “You’re never going to get cleared to return to duty.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Terror growled as he strode toward Maisie. He gestured to Torment and ordered, “Get her out of these cuffs.”
“She’s our prisoner!” Savage insisted. “She’s not going anywhere but straight to the prison transport waiting for her.”
“Like fuck she is!” Terror snarled.
“She killed our men, Terror,” Keen said in that annoyingly calm manner of his.
“While exchanging gunfire during raids,” he snapped. “In self-defense.”
“She killed at least seven of our soldiers over the last six years,” Keen replied.
“And she was how old six years ago?” Terror waited for their reply, but it never came. “That’s what I thought. She was underage. A minor. We don’t charge minors above a misdemeanor, no matter the crime.”
Savage didn’t have a response to that. Instead, he said, “Her last charges all occurred after she reached adulthood. She might not have killed anyone after that point, but she aided and abetted her stepfather and stepbrothers. That makes her a terrorist.”
“We don’t charge women with Tier One Terrorism,” Terror pointed out angrily. “Execution of females is forbidden. There’s not even a statute on the books for laying a capital charge against a woman.”
“There will be,” Savage said. “She’s the test case.”
“Over my dead body,” Terror vowed.
“You say that like it would be hard to arrange,” Savage replied icily.
Terror laughed darkly. “You think you could take me?” He flicked his fingers. “Try it.”
Savage did.
He came around the table, ready to strike, and Terror posted up, lifting his hands and rocking back for balance. Keen jumped from his seat and tried to stop Savage, but he wasn’t big enough to slow down the giant lumbering toward Terror. Never one to back down from any fight, no matter the size of his opponent, Terror waited for Savage to take the first swing and slid right to escape it. He steeled himself for the graze of Savage’s fist across his shoulder, wincing fractionally at the sting, and then popped Savage in jaw. His left hand quickly moved to the