Page 65 of Zalis
“You.” The gun waved from Zalis to her. “Stand up. Hands up.”
Using the cane, Gemma pushed herself to her feet.
“Not that. Leave it,” Niklas barked.
“I can’t. I need it to walk.” Not completely true, but the cane was excellent for whacking against shins, and she didn’t want to lose that option.
Niklas wasn’t buying it. “You seem to be doing just fine. Get back here. Now.”
Holding up both hands, she eased into the room. Her eyes never left Niklas and Zalis. Panic and worry had vanished, leaving her cold and focused. She’d fall apart as soon as this was over, but that was okay, because she knew Zalis would hold her hand until the anxiety calmed down.
Until then, she was going to explore her villain era.
“Tell me what you want or I’ll pull the trigger,” Niklas said. “Mahdfel are fast but not faster than a blaster.”
“What I want? Oh wow, where to start?” Gemma turned in a slow circle, taking in the dingy room in all its glory. “I’m having an existential crisis about what it means to be a morally good person versus a law-abiding person. Tricky stuff, you know? Some of the biggest assholes I know are perfectly law-abidingbut they’re notgood. Heavy stuff. A bit too heavy for the circumstance, so let’s talk about your decor.”
“My decor?” She could see him calculating just how unhinged she was. Mildly unhinged, but still mostly concerned about survival and feared him. Extremely unhinged meant she had zero fucks.
Or had a secret weapon.
She did—Zalis.
“I thought crime paid,” Gemma said, drifting to a desk at the back of the office. “The building’s outside is rough but that could be to keep the property tax low and the thieves away. If you’re not too flashy, you won’t get the wrong attention, am I right?”
No response.
“I’m right.” She dragged her finger along the shelf behind the desk and held it up to show the dust. She tutted and gently shook her head from side to side. “But the inside should be a flex. Make a splash. Brag about how good you are at business with expensive furniture and gold paint. This?” She picked up a plaster figure on the desk. She had no idea what animal it represented but the paint job was sloppy. “This is sad. This screamsfailure. Do you enjoy looking like a failure?”
“I’m not?—”
“You know, when you didn’t recognize me, I was hurt,” she said, hopping up to sit on the desk. “Isn’t that weird? That I needed some sort of validation from the man who left me for dead sitting on top of a bomb.”
Niklas squinted his eyes, then he grinned. “The twin. You survived.”
“Obviously.”
“You were a special order.”
“I waswhat?” That made her feel some sort of way. Mostly icky. Being the victim of greed and opportunity was somehow more tolerable than knowing she had been requested. She needed a hot shower to clean away the ick.
“I didn’t want to leave you and all those females like that. So much good inventory wasted.” Niklas dipped his head slightly in Zalis’ direction. “I see you wasted no time selling yourself.”
“Oh no, you don’t get to slut -shame me.” Acting before she could question herself, she flung the plaster figure at his head.
With that moment’s distraction, Zalis elbowed the man and stepped away. He grabbed the arm holding the gun and twisted, forcing Niklas to his knees.
Brutal. She loved it.
“Technically, you left her with a mine,” Zalis said, not even panting.
“Bomb. Mine. Same difference,” Niklas replied, his voice cracking as Zalis twisted his arm.
“Details matter.” He produced another knife—seriously, those boots were a literal walking armory—and held it to Niklas’ throat.
“Do you know who I am?” Niklas rasped, repeating the well-worn line uttered by every arrogant asshole ever who never had to face real consequences.
“This is exhausting,” Gemma said. “I can’t believe I’m on the other side of the galaxy and the bad guys have the same lines. You have zero imagination and zero taste.”
