Page 63 of Zalis
That was vague and left her unsettled. What did she want? The guy was one hundred percent the weasel. She was positive. He sold people. Six women, to be exact, to the Suhlik, which meant they were probably dead. Horrific as that was, it remained abstract.
Ines, Maria, Scarlett, Amariah, Madilyn, and Jessica.
There. Less abstract. She knew those women, their names, and had suffered alongside them.
Niklas tied Gemma to a chair with a bomb. Nothing abstract about that. He fully intended to kill her and injure the eight other women he abandoned in the warehouse. He deserved the same treatment in kind.
“Murder?” she asked.
“I do not recommend discussing that in an unsecured vehicle.”
Not a no.
Did she want Niklas to die? He had enough money to bribe his way out of consequences, which basically meant he was abovethe law. At least that was how it went on Earth. Zalis seemed to imply it was the same on Sangrin.
A better person would argue for forgiveness. A good person would demand justice, that Niklas pay for his crimes, but Gemma wasn’t a better person. She didn’t even think she was good anymore. All the softer emotions of compassion had been hollowed out from her.
Still, murder was huge, even if Zalis did all the work and she watched. If they went that far, she wouldn’t like herself. She didn’t want to be that person.
“Have you killed someone before?” she asked.
“Many someones, in battle.”
“But not like this.” In cold blood.
He seemed to hesitate before answering, “No, not like this. It is not a pleasant experience to take a life, even when justified.”
Gemma shifted in her seat, not sure what to do about the cane, and pressed her leg against his. “If this guy is so rich and powerful, where’s the security? I thought rich guys had bodyguards and private jets. This is very down-market.”
“He is slippery and survives by avoiding notice. He disappears.”
“What a delightfully useful skill for a lowlife,” Gemma said with bitterness in her voice.
“He will not disappear again.”
The conversation sat heavy between them, making the pod feel so much smaller.
Good. It should be uncomfortable talking about murder, even for people who had it coming. Gemma took it as a sign that she wasn’t quite in her villain era yet.
Flirting with it, though.
The scenery outside the vehicle changed from a busy commercial district with clean streets and gleaming shopfronts to an equally busy but shadier commercial area. The buildings were shabbier, the storefronts not so shiny; the people on the street seemed harder. Money still changed hands. Business was done here, just the kind of business you had to be discreet about.
The glyph on Zalis’ comm unit stopped moving. Within moments, they stood in front of a store with metal shutters drawn over the front windows.
This was the place. For the murder. It was no longer abstract but nauseatingly real. She could picture blood pooling at her feet, and it turned her stomach. She refused to be that person.
“I don’t want you to kill him,” Gemma said. Rather than explain the complex moral struggle taking up all her bandwidth, she opted for flippancy. “You don’t like it, which is fine, and if you don’t plan these things out in advance, blood gets everywhere. Evidence gets left behind. Next thing you know, we’re in prison and I’m not prison material.”
“He deserves worse.” Zalis stared down at her, his gaze intense. “I would for you.”
“How about assault? Is that on the menu?”
His grin was absolutely vicious and she liked it. A lot. Like,clench your thighsa lot.
Any doubt about her being a good person was erased. She’d been through the fire, transformed by the weasel’s action, and he would suffer.
“I must disable any security feeds and erase any footage of us.” Zalis removed another button from his boot. This one unfolded with a buzz. Barely visible, it zipped away.
