Page 134 of Red Scale Daddy
Roma pushes off the wall.
“No,” she says.
One of them catches her before she can reach me. She twists hard, driving her elbow into its armor with enough force to make it shift, then tries to duck under its arm. Another catches her wrist. She fights like fury, all sharp angles and vicious precision, but the stun round has slowed her body, and there are too many of them.
“Roma!” I shout.
She looks at me.
The Reapers haul me through the breached corridor into the docking throat between ships. The temperature drops at once, cold biting through my torn shirt as pressure seals cycle around us. Harsh blue light lines the passage, reflecting off black armor and the blood on my hands.
I slam my heel into one Reaper’s knee and twist, nearly breaking free.
Nearly.
Another stun round hits the base of my neck.
My body locks.
The door ahead opens, revealing a small chamber with an outer hatch and warning symbols I understand even through the blur.
Airlock.
“Oh, hell no,” I rasp.
The comm voice speaks again, closer now, as if the bastard is watching. “The Vakutan is unnecessary cargo.”
Roma’s voice cuts through from behind, raw and furious. “Do not open that hatch!”
I fight harder than my body can sustain. The Reapers shove me into the chamber, and I hit the far wall shoulder-first. My fingers scrape against the frame, claws digging into metal as I try to hold myself there.
Roma appears beyond the inner seal, restrained between two Reapers, her face white with rage and terror.
The inner door begins to close.
“No!” she screams, throwing herself against their grip.
I lock eyes with her through the narrowing gap.
For the first time since I met her, every layer of control is gone. No calculations. No command voice. No cold little walls. Just Roma, terrified and furious and mine in a way I have no right to claim, staring at me like the universe has opened its hands to take something else from her.
I try to grin for her.
It hurts.
“Don’t you dare make that face,” I say, forcing the words through numb lips. “I’m hard to kill.”
Her mouth forms my name.
The inner door seals.
Sound cuts down to the thud of my own pulse and the harsh rasp of my breathing. Through the small reinforced window, I see her slam both hands against the glass. Her lips move, and even without hearing her, I know she is saying no.
The outer hatch warning lights flare.
My body still won’t answer right.
I press one bloodied hand to the glass.
