Chapter Six
“I’m disappointed.”
These are the first words I’m aware of being spoken to me after the needle pierces my neck.
The screw-up sensing area of my stomach is in freefall, and the rest of it is quivering and queasy from the d**g cocktail running through my blood.
Clutch is sitting at one of the check-in consoles in Eris Station’s private ship hangar. I’m being held up in front of her by a massive pair of arms squeezing mine from behind. The hangar takes up two levels of vertical space, and my eyes give up halfway through trying to trace one of the blindingly white walls all the way up to the ceiling. Even though I can only see a fraction of the vast space, I get the vague, peripheral impression of at least half a dozen ships parked around it. Any one of them could have been my
