Page 117 of Border Control
‘I am.’I let all my mental walls down for Law-rah, throwing open the doors to my room, allowing her to sample whatever memories she chooses.
Tentatively at first, she explores my earliest recollections, ofseeing Arik for the first time, feeling something, then meeting Nevare and both of us knowing he's on the same mental frequency as us. Joining to make our trio, sleeping all together with the hum of their minds surrounding me.
Of me and Arik making sure Nevare eats.
Of learning early on how to pull pain from my wave brothers, because seeing them hurt ached more than the strikes they would have received.
‘Oh, Dom.’She latches next to me. ‘You've been through so much. How are you so kind?’
I don't know how to answer that.
The Apex says, “Next.”
My chains extend, lowering my legs to the ground. Are they going to give my shoulders a reprieve? They halt when my boots hover a finger width above the floor.Drok na,no rest for me.
One of the Bases holds up a thick metal collar, fastened with buckles and snaps like the belts in a space hopper. His face hardens as he approaches me.
‘What is that?’Law-rah demands.
He places it around my throat, tightening the straps, my chin forced up.
‘I don't know—’I begin, when he pushes a button on the side.
It whirs, a heavy buzz grinding against my scales and jaw, and Law-rah is gone.
Gone.
I roar, reaching out for her, swiping mentally at nothing. I lurch for the Parthiastocks, but again, nothing meets my grasp.
Cold, dead silence rings in my head.
I've been cut off from my psychic ability.
“What is this?” I croak.
“Anti-Parthiastock technology,” the Base rasps. A brief flicker of pity shines in his purple eyes before he grimaces and turns away. “Murderer,” he adds.
“No. Wait. Don't do this to me. I… I can't…” Silence. Utter and cold and cruel, empty and ringing with only my own thoughts, my own panic.
I scream.
I screamuntil I fall unconscious, only waking when the air in the cell shifts. Opening my eyes, I'm confronted by a bulky Parthiastock. A single one. He regards me coolly, eyes black in the dim light of the cell.
“Surgere ac excitare,” he murmurs, staring at me as if I'm supposed to know what that means.
When I don't react, he sneers and turns away, lifting a pad to his face. “Not one of us, mistress,” he reports quietly.
Not one of who?
He looks over his shoulder at me. “Should I kill him? It would look like he expired from strain on his hearts.”
Immediately I struggle, rattling the chains. “My hearts are strong! Who are you?”
I shouldn't have bothered with a verbal challenge. I reach out toward him as the Parthiastock listens to whoever’s on the pad with him, but my mind grasps onto nothing. The collar cuts me off, alone.
He walks out of my cell, the door sliding silently shut behind him.
TWENTY-NINE
