Page 6 of Unhinged Omega

"We can both have what we want," Maybrecht says, leaning forward. His eyes glitter with predatory intensity. "But it requires cooperation. Unless... you're having second thoughts after selling out your own people?"

His accusation hangs in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. I think of Surhiira, of the family I left behind. Of the brother I hadn't seen in years, until recently. I think of the guilt I should feel. And the empty pit that occupies the place it would.

"No," I say tersely. "No second thoughts."

A slow smile spreads across Maybrecht's face, and I'm reminded of a shark scenting blood in the water. "Good," he purrs. "Then you won't mind a simple little test."

Ah. There it is.

"What kind of test?" I ask, nearly as apathetic as I sound.

He claps his hands twice and the door behind him opens. Two guards immediately stride in, each hauling a prisoner with them.

Surhiirans.

They're both wearing the uniforms Reinmichian soldiers—the one on the left a lieutenant's dress grays, the one on the right a medic's fatigues—but their sharp features and eyes those particular pale shades of blues and greens tend to stand out.

The one on the left struggles against his captor's grip, fear radiating off him in waves. But it's the one on the right that catches my attention, and not just because he's as still and defiant as a stone statue, his sharp eyes fixed on me in silent judgment.

Arun.

His face is bruised, one eye swollen shut, but there's no mistaking that defiant glare. We grew up together, trained together. He was there the day I took my oath to protect Surhiira at all costs. And now here he is, on his knees before me, wearing the uniform of our enemy.

Just like I am.

The irony isn't lost on me.

Maybrecht's eyes bore into me, searching for any flicker of recognition. "Well, General Vesper? Do you know these rats?"

"I recognize the one on the right," I say. "We served together. Before."

Maybrecht's lips curve into a smile. "How interesting. It truly is a small world, isn't it?" Something in his tone makes me quite certain he already knew this was a reunion, not an introduction. He leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "I'm in a generous mood today, so I'll give you a choice. You may spare one of these infiltrators and execute the other. Since you know one of them, it should be an easy decision. Consider it a test of your loyalty."

This is his favorite game, and he has many. Forcing impossible choices, reveling in the pain and conflict they cause.

But I've danced this dance before.

I know the steps by heart.

I draw my gun with my left hand, my right still wrapped in bandages from when that Vrissian snake put a bullet through it. The weight of the weapon is still unfamiliar in my off-hand, but I've adapted quickly.

"Remove their gags," Maybrecht says, his voice cold and detached. "It's unsporting to refuse a man his last words."

The guards comply, yanking the cloth from the prisoners' mouths. The one I don't recognize in the medic's fatigues immediately starts pleading.

"Please," he begs, his voice cracking. Snot bubbles from his broken nose. "I was just following orders. I'll tell you everything I know, just please?—"

Arun cuts him off with a harsh laugh. "Pathetic," he spits, turning his one good eye to me. "Keep your mercy, traitor. I'd rather die than live owing my life to scum like you."

I feel Maybrecht's eyes on me, gauging my reaction. Waiting to see if I'll flinch, if I'll show even a flicker of hesitation. But I've had years to bury the part of me that might have once cared.

I step closer, my boots echoing in the suddenly silent room. The nameless infiltrator whimpers, shrinking back. But Arun meets my gaze without flinching. Hatred and disgust burn in his pale blue eyes.

I raise my gun, aiming at Arun's head. My finger tightens on the trigger, but something stops me.

A flicker.

A hallucination.

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