Page 83 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol. 1
‘’TRUTH!’’ Noviosk jumps to his feet, his eyes shining with desire. ‘’It's a done deal!’’ he says.
I'm appalled. He's done it. He's handed over an entire people to a bunch of lawless looters. Even Prax looks taken aback by the deal. I look into his golden gaze, and he offers me a apologetic grimace.
I don't blame him, though. He did everything he could to get me out of there. He even said he'd give up his ship and business. Still, he made a solid deal, and it's set to be pretty profitable. Even if his partnership with Bully seems a bit shady.
The rejected buyers leave the room, and soon all that's left is Pherebos, my two salesmen, and the master of the house. Noviosk, who's a big guy with his arms crossed over his muscular chest, looks pretty pleased.
‘’Pherebos, you're still my guest here until we've checked all this out, of course!’’ he says. My instincts have never steered me wrong, but I've been cautious as hell to get to where I am.
‘’I get where you're coming from, but I'm thinking of turning down your offer. After all, my two chauffeurs are waiting to take me back to my ship. As for Asgarne, it's weeks away and...’’
‘’I insist!’’ Noviosk interrupts, unyielding.
It's clear that this is less of an invitation and more of an order.
“I see. Well, I hope you won’t keep me waiting too long before I can enjoy my purchase,” Pherebos says with that nonchalant smile of his that still manages to irritate me.
“Yes, you can,” Noviosk replies. “I’ll have a room prepared for you near my office. We’ll have plenty of time to talk—about you, and about Asgarne. Your pilots will be released; they’ve been well compensated with the daggers. Once everything checks out, I’ll have someone escort you back to your ship. As for the coordinates, it’ll take a few days to verify. I’ll send a message to my nearest base, and someone I trust will investigate.”
“Then I’ll take you up on the invitation,” Pherebos says. “Just have my travel bag forwarded—it should still be on the brothers’ ship. You can inspect it if you want. There’s no weapon inside. Come on, Ileana. You’re with me now.”
A few moments later, we’re walking down a corridor I recognize—it leads to Noviosk’s private quarters. He’d already told Pherebos we’d be dining in our room tonight, since he had other plans. I knew that already.
I’m relieved. That Srebat terrifies me, and his uncanny ability to detect lies doesn’t help.
The two guards stop in front of a standard composite door. The heavy wooden one is clearly reserved for the master of the house.
“We’ll bring a meal for two within the hour,” one of them says. “We’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
We’re not exactly prisoners, but we’re not free either. Pherebos’s wry smile says as much.
We step into the large room we’ve been assigned. There’s a single bed facing a wide bay window that overlooks the sea, and a small adjoining washroom.
As soon as the door closes behind us, Pherebos grabs my arm and pushes me gently but firmly against the wall. His movements are sudden, theatrical—too exaggerated to be real. His face is close to mine, his expression intense.
“No!” I gasp, startled.
“Yes, you are,” he growls, loud enough for any hidden microphones to pick up. “You’re mine now, and I intend to enjoy every bit of my wild purchase.”
“Get away from me!” I snap. “You disgust me! You sold out your own people—just like that! Who does that?”
“What do you care?” he shoots back. “You didn’t know them.”
His voice is sharp, but then, so quietly I almost miss it, he leans in and whispers near my ear:
“I didn’t do any of that.”
I freeze. “What did you say?”
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, his voice louder again. “I said Asgarne’s fate isn’t your concern. You’re mine now, and I’ll do what I want.”
But his eyes say something else entirely.
He grabs me and lifts me off the ground, carrying me toward the bed. I let out a startled sound, more fromsurprise than fear. He sets me down gently, but his gaze remains intense—hungry, but not in the way it might seem to an outside observer.
He climbs onto the bed beside me, pinning my wrists above my head as I struggle, half-heartedly, to push him off.
“Stop fighting,” he growls, just loud enough for the bugs to catch. But then, in a breathless whisper, he adds, “My Faksaya… keep going. Be loud. We’re being watched.”
