Page 117 of Star Claimed Omega
With a sneered curl of his lip, he turned and disappeared down the corridor.
Leaving her alone in the sterile quiet, holding a box that might kill her, or someone else, if she made one wrong move.
Behind her, the elevator chimed.
She forced herself to walk like nothing was the matter, even as her skin crawled with dread.
Minutes later, Soleil stepped into the elevator, her limbs trembling with the aftershock of the strange man’s grip.
Also, with worry about what lay hidden in her hover cart.
The payload, whatever it was, rested beneath a heap of stained linens, stuffed in a ragged laundry sack.
The lift hummed as it moved up.
She wrapped her arms across her chest, the scent of chemical cleaner clinging to her uniform making her stomach twist.
When the doors parted, she forced her features into neutral calm and wheeled the cart toward the maintenance office.
She found Astra seated behind a desk, sorting through a box of supply tags.
‘Hey, hon,’ her colleague and friend chirped. ‘You look pale. You alright?’
‘Didn’t sleep much,’ Soleil muttered with a wan grimace. ‘My head’s foggy.’
Astra gave her a once-over, concerned but not probing. ‘You want some of my yerba tonic? It’s a kick in the face but clears up brain fog like nothing else.’
Soleil shook her head and forced a polite smile. ‘Later maybe.’
She kept her tone even, but her pulse galloped.
She waited for the locker room to clear, pacing the hallway under the flicker of recycled lights. When it was finally empty, she slipped inside and locked the door.
Her hands moved, though they trembled at the wrists.
She opened the hover cart’s concealed compartment and removed the box.
It was heavier than expected and warm.
She didn’t dare open it, didn’t want to see what sort of horror she was carrying.
With a soft grunt, she transferred the first package and the second to her cross-body bag and adjusted the strap until it pressed tight against her ribs.
Just as she finished zipping it closed, the door rattled behind her.
‘Soleil.’
Wren’s voice was gruff and impatient.
She cracked the door and peeked out.
‘Sir.’
‘You’re on double rotation tomorrow. We’ve got a suite inspection on Deck 24. Tess the Witch is on a rampage, so don’t be late.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He squinted at her. ‘You good?’
