She and Bethany exchanged a long look, and Bethany smiled gently. They both knew her bedroom wouldn't be safe. There weren't any safe places left to hide.
"All right," Bethany said finally. She turned to the child, suddenly remembering her name. Zara. It was Zara.
"Zara, we're going to go back here now," she said, reaching out a hand. The girl took it slowly, and together they walked toward the back room. All they could do now was wait.
They sat in the back room, huddled, for what seemed like hours. Explosions continued to rock the station. Zara cried and moaned while the baby grew fussy. Moriah tried nursing her, but she was too afraid to eat. Bethany held Zara tightly, and watched her small clock.
Less than ten minutes had passed since they'd gone into the back room together, but those minutes had lasted a lifetime.
They started hearing noises out in their own hallway. Bethany and Moriah looked at each other, and finally Bethany spoke.
"I have to know what's going on," she whispered. "I'll be back in a minute."
"Don't," Moriah said. "It's too dangerous."
"It's dangerous no matter what we do," Bethany replied grimly.
She stood and walked shakily out into the main living room. The noises outside were growing louder.
She could hear men calling to each other, and the sounds of blasters firing. The worst of the fighting seemed to be right outside the apartment.
She walked up to the door and looked at the small screen next to it. Now she could see into the hallway through her father's ridiculous security camera. Jess was standing directly outside the apartment door, face twisted with rage and triumph. His pressure suit hung in tatters around him. His arms, strong and roped with muscle, held a blaster pointed at the locking mechanism. Terrified, Bethany ran toward the back of the apartment; they would be inside any minute. She had no idea what would happen to them.
Jess had told her the women wouldn't be hurt but she didn't believe him. She had seen the bloodlust in his eyes.
She and Moriah pushed into the closet, pulling an old blanket over themselves and the children. Would the slaves realize they had found her father's apartment? Of course, she thought in disgust. The door was clearly labeled. Everything was labeled, she realized, shaking her head. How much easier had the Pilgrims made it for the slaves?
Yet another explosion rocked the apartment, and then they could hear the men's triumphant cries as they came inside. Jess' voice sounded above the others, giving an order.
"I want Bose," he said. "And I want him alive."
The men hooted in response, their voices sounding triumphant.
"Good news, Jess," one of them called. "Logan just radioed a message. The second dome is fully under our control. The men over there have surrendered; they're locking them up right now."
"Jess, get in here," another man called. "Bose is dead. Looks like someone did him in a while ago, a day at least"
"What?"
Bethany shivered in the closet, pulling Zara closer to her body.
"Stay quiet," she whispered to the child. Zara nodded.
Then the baby sneezed, and all hell broke loose.
Chapter Eight
Jess stood over Bose's body, his moment of triumph feeling empty. The bastard was already dead.
Someone had gotten to him first.
A baby sneezed.
"There's someone in the other room," he said, voice tight. Two of the men nodded, and went into the smaller room in back. They had already cleared out nearly 20 apartments; they had come to realized just how important it was to keep each other covered.
And instant later one of the men gave a startled yelp. Jess brought his blaster up, ready to fire. A small child streaked through the room, hair flying behind her, teeth grimly clenched. Jess gasped; he'd almost shot her. Just one more close call. One of the men took off after her.
"Zara!" a woman's voice called. Bethany's voice. The child was forgotten; Bethany was in there. Hiding from him. He could feel a fierce grin spreading across his face, blood surged through his body to his groin.
The station was all but theirs; now she would be, too.
He stalked into the room to find two women huddled in the closet. One of them clutched a baby. The other one was Bethany.
He nodded at Kresn.
"Take her and the kid out to the other prisoners," he said in a grim voice, pointing to the other woman.
"I'll take care of this one."
Kresn gave him a knowing look.
"Remember, we aren't finished yet," he murmured.
"I know," Jess said. "I'll just be a minute."
Kresn reached down and pulled the other woman to her feet. He wrapped one hand around her upper arm, but she shook it off.
"I'll go with you," she said, her voice dignified and quiet. Kresn quirked an eyebrow and bowed to her mockingly.
"Of course," he said.
She stiffened, but didn't reply. Together they left the room.
Jess was left alone with Bethany. She was dirty. Her hair had come loose from its braids, flowing down her back in a river of brown waves. He'd dreamt of touching that hair, wrapping it around his fingers a thousand times; now she was his. He'd kill any man who tried to take her away from him, and he'd be damned if he'd tolerate her running away from him again.
"Get up," he said. She stood, eyes darting around the room. Looking for escape? He laughed at her mockingly.
"You aren't getting away this time," he said. "The station is ours. Your father is dead. How did that happen, by the way? I was looking forward to doing it myself…"
She shivered, then lifted her chin defiantly.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said. "You must be mistaken."
"Is that why you were so friendly earlier?" he asked coolly. "You killed him, didn't you? You thought you were going to die. That's why you f**ked me."
She refused to meet his gaze and he laughed. Without warning, she leapt for the door. He blocked her, wrenching a hand into her hair and pulling hard as she tried to knee him.
"Oh, no," he whispered. "We're not going to go through that again."
He wound his fist tightly into her hair and pulled her through the apartment. As much as he was enjoying his moment of triumph, there was more work to be done. By his estimates, there were probably at least ten Pilgrim men unaccounted for in this dome. His hand clenched her hair tighter. She yelped in pain once, but any sympathy for her evaporated when he thought about the way she'd run from him earlier.
She had endangered herself recklessly; it was unforgivable. She belonged to him now and he wouldn't tolerate losing her again. She would have to learn to behave from now on, to do as he told her.