Disobedience Read online

  Finn’s heart seemed to skip a beat and her body went tense, but before she could respond to that interesting tidbit of news, the little girl pulled a piece of paper from the center of the pile and thrust it proudly in Enyo’s direction.

  “I think you’ll like this one,” Tiri told the Sirian.

  Enyo reached out a tentative hand and grasped the paper. She turned it over to reveal one of Tiri’s colored-pencil drawings. In it, the Sirian stood in the dark, her feral stare illuminated by the moons overhead. Her long, intimidating claws were dripping with red and a soldier lay unmoving at her feet. More hard lines in that deep shade of red colored the immobile man’s chest and throat.

  Finn’s eyes widened in alarm at what the girl had obviously gleaned from her mind and stepped in to confiscate the drawing. Before she could, Enyo folded the paper and stuffed it in her pocket. A genuine smile of amusement lifted her lips.

  “You are right, I do like it.”

  Tiri grinned happily before turning to Finn, her eyes sobering as she did.

  “I missed you, Finn. You shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye. Everyone’s thoughts were so sad when you left.”

  The solemn little girl’s words filled Finn with shame, and she sighed just as the automatic doors opened once again behind them and the energy around the room pulsed with tension.

  “I thought I said no visitors, Lil’ Bit.”

  Conrad’s low voice washed over the trio. As soon as Tiri saw him, her mouth widened in an unrepentant grin.

  “You did.”

  Finn turned in time to see him shake his head and aim an incredulous stare Tiri’s way. Enyo shifted closer to her side, her stance defensive and her black claws elongating almost imperceptibly. Conrad’s sharp blue stare took in the Sirian warrior and then finally shifted to Finn.

  “We need to talk.”

  It took some convincing and several promises to return—the guilt caused by Tiri’s panicked expression at her departure wreaked havoc on Finn’s insides—but the child finally allowed them to leave. Enyo, on the other hand, flat-out refused to give Finn some alone time with the blue-eyed, formidable hybrid.

  A small part of her was grateful for the backup, and Finn couldn’t muster the energy to fight her on it. Conrad, however, was on the darker side of livid. It was obvious he held no affection in his heart for the Sirian, and given his history with the race, she couldn’t entirely fault him.

  Regardless, a seething Conrad led Finn and Enyo to the crew rec room. Stopping before allowing them entrance, he cast a dark glower Enyo’s way before lowering his gaze to Finn’s.

  “Is the bodyguard really necessary?”

  Finn registered the hurt in his glowing eyes simmering next to the anger. She fumbled for a response as the full force of it washed over her, but came up empty.

  Considering the way they’d left things during her last stay on Independence, she found his gall at questioning her distrust more than a little strange.

  In fact, she found it downright frustrating.

  Shaking free from the stupor that had been shrouding her since she’d first laid eyes on him, Finn finally allowed the resentment and betrayal seething within her to surface.

  “Can you blame me? Considering the way you played me last time.”

  Enyo remained uncharacteristically quiet at Finn’s back. Hearing her accusation, Conrad’s stare widened incredulously.

  “I played you?”

  “Please. All you’ve done since I met you is lie to me. All of you. You knew about Grim being the Luminary and you knew he’d sent me here.”

  Finn pushed her way past Conrad and stormed into the rec room. Her eyes skimmed past the Earthen pool table, holoscreens, and furniture and landed on the neon flashing bar to her left. Charging up to it, she tagged a shot glass and a bottle of bright orange alcohol. Grim would lose it if he saw her drinking, dulling her senses when she should be alert.

  The thought made her fill the glass to the rim.

  She finished pouring just as Conrad stormed inside. Enyo trailed behind at a safe distance, her yellow eyes watchful.

  “None of us knew your relationship when he sent you to us,” Conrad launched in, eyeing the shot glass and its contents warily. “I had no idea that Grim, as you call him, had practically raised you.”

  She’d noticed that Conrad had yet to call her by his nickname for her, Hellion, and the loss of that intimacy coupled with his anger hurt her more than she cared to admit. Finn tipped the glass back against her lips and swallowed its contents, biting back a wince as it burned a pathway down her throat.

  “And why should I believe you now?” Finn hissed. “That day, before we entered Cartan’s orbit, you had your chance to tell me everything. You didn’t.”

  The glow of his eyes became painfully intense and Finn backed away instinctively. Before either of them could continue to fan the flames, a loud crunching sounded from behind them, slicing through the tension in the air. Their heads turned at the same time to find one of Independence’s pilots lounging on the couch at the far side of the room, mouth full of whatever was making that Gods-awful crunching. Over his tall, lean body he wore his token tan overalls. His spiky hair had been dyed a neon shade of orange and the caramel skin around his mouth was covered in green crumbs.

  The young pilot flashed a wry smile and swallowed.

  “Jax, get out,” Conrad growled.

  Jax raised his hands in surrender. Even so, Finn noticed, he made no move to exit. “Hey, don’t mind me. I’m a purely impartial third-party witness with no vested interest in how this plays out whatsoever. By the way,” he continued, looking at Enyo, “who’s the new hottie?” To punctuate his question, Jax wiggled his orange eyebrows and winked at the Sirian.

  Enyo looked him up and down, found him clearly wanting, and growled.

  Ignoring them both for the moment, Conrad launched back in.

  “Can you honestly say you’ve never stretched the truth for the greater good?” When Finn leveled him with a defiant stare, he ran a hand over his face in vexation. “You’re a thief for the love of the Gods, how can you be so sanctimonious?”

  “I grew up with a code of honor and decency,” she shot back. “One no one else on this ship seems to share.”

  Jax began to mutter under his breath, his round, amber eyes dubious. “Honor and decency in a galaxy ruled by the Reliance? You must be used to disappointment then.”

  He dipped his hand into the clear bag of green-dusted spheres and popped a few more in his mouth. The crunching practically reverberated off the walls around them. Though it took effort, Finn dutifully ignored him, focusing all of her fury on Conrad instead.

  “I do not lie, not about things like that and not even for the greater good.”

  “Well”—Conrad scowled, crossing his arms at his chest and sharing a look with Jax—“we fall at your feet in apology then. I had no idea such a sacrosanct member of society was standing in our midst. Do the Gods know they’ve misplaced you?”

  Finn clenched her jaw, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

  “What the hell are you getting at, Conrad?”

  “I think he’s calling you a hypocrite, just in a very roundabout way,” Jax answered through a mouthful. Both Finn and Conrad sent death glares in his direction, the fire of their frustration fanning out. In response, the pilot held his hands out in supplication. “Hey, impartial third party, remember?”

  Grabbing his bag of snacks, Jax rose from his place on the couch and headed for the door. Just when she thought they were safe to continue their argument in private, the pilot stopped at the threshold and called over his shoulder.

  “Would you two hurry up and make a decision on what you’re doing? Do you hate each other? Are you a couple? Some of us are still waiting for our thank-you lap dance . . . although, I would be willing to accept a substitute if you wanted to tag in the sexy newbie.”

  Jax grinned lasciviously in Enyo’s direction before walking out of the room and le
aving them all in stunned silence.

  The reprieve didn’t last long, however, and Conrad launched right back in.

  “Finn, none of us were aware your relationship with the Luminary was anything other than professional. If I’d known”—he paused, the glow in his eyes receding as his stare held hers—“I would have told you and we could have avoided the last three weeks of drama.”

  “Drama?” The whisper was all Finn could manage.

  Conrad watched her carefully before expelling an angry huff.

  “You ran off without giving any of us a chance to explain. We had no idea where you were or if you were okay; it was impulsive and selfish.”

  Finn’s mouth fell open.

  “That’s enough.” There was an edge to Enyo’s voice Finn had yet to hear. The large Sirian took a step toward Conrad, not cowed in the slightest by his size or abilities. “You have said your piece. However, I am free because of N’Goza and you will not continue to insult her in my presence, lafaar.”

  As Finn was not fluent in Sirian, she had no idea what Enyo had just called him, but judging from Conrad’s dark look of fury, it certainly hadn’t been a compliment.

  He stood motionless for long, tension-filled seconds; the blaze of his irises shining brightly. Finally, his stance loosened infinitesimally and his face shut down. The glow dulled and his cold gaze moved past Finn as he marched out of the rec room.

  She stared at the spot he’d just occupied, the numbness from the shot she’d taken earlier fading as anger and sadness filled her.

  She had expected many things in returning to Independence. She knew she’d have to face her sister at some point, and she knew a showdown with Grim was imminent, but Conrad’s anger had never occurred to her.

  Speaking of my sister . . .

  Iliana had been noticeably absent since Finn’s return to the ship. Given how their last interaction went—with Iliana using her abilities to see Finn’s darkest memories—she supposed her older sister could be steering clear of Finn’s wrath. Though, she found it hard to believe the normally tenacious courtesan had suddenly learned the wisdom in giving her little sister space.

  “I think it is safe to assume Conrad does not care for me,” Enyo mused, interrupting Finn’s train of thought.

  “I wouldn’t take it personally. A Sirian soldier killed his mother; tore her apart while he watched.”

  Enyo growled, showing her teeth.

  “The dogs who serve as guards to the Reliance are not Sirians. They are nothing more than outcasts with no tribe and they bring dishonor to our people.”

  As interesting as that revelation was, Finn found herself too lost in the tumult of emotions brewing inside of her to comment.

  “Conrad was not the same man after you left.” Finn’s head shot back around to see Isis had appeared in the doorway, her silver eyes assessing the room and her purple robes swaying with her tall body’s graceful movements. “We were all worried for you, but Conrad . . . Well, Conrad is not a man accustomed to fear, and when you left us, he wore his like a second skin. Each day I watched him prowl the ship, vibrating like a bomb ready to explode. I watched as he begged Tiri to find you, argued constantly with Shane, and even refused to speak to the Luminary.”

  As Finn took in that surprising bit of news, it settled in the pit of her stomach. It felt like a bag of coiled serpents had taken residence there, slithering around inside of her and spreading guilt in their wake. Even as she battled with the uncomfortable feelings, the need to defend her actions became too much to ignore.

  “I couldn’t stay, not after what happened, not . . . after Grim.”

  Isis’s iridescent blue face softened.

  “My child, you need not explain yourself to me. It is clear you and Conrad share a bond. I merely wished to offer insight as I would hate to see that bond severed because you are both more hardheaded than you would care to admit. I understand why you did what you did, and were he not so consumed with worry over your well-being, Conrad would too. Let us just say it is in the past and I am relieved to see you back and well.” The Aquariian offered Finn a small smile before turning to Enyo. “When you are ready, have Finn bring you to my sanctuary.”

  With the invitation hanging in the air between them, Isis offered them a solicitous nod before taking her leave. A few beats of silence passed before Enyo broke it.

  “I think I like the blue one.”

  Finn smiled at the understatement, eyeing the empty doorway. Hours ago, he had accused Isis of trying to harm her, but now . . .

  “Yeah, me too.”

  She finally let her gaze drift to Enyo’s.

  “It seems as though you have much more to tell me about your time on this ship,” the Sirian said with a knowing stare.

  TEN

  Finn spent the next two hours filling Enyo in on the events of the last month. The Sirian guarded her expression, listening intently and nodding every so often to encourage her to keep talking. Finn told her everything, except for her time alone with Iliana after being healed and the secret shame it had revealed.

  All these cycles later, she could still feel the recoil of the chancellor’s gun in her hand as she fired the shot that ended Sophie’s young life. Sophie, her only friend and light in the darkness of her imprisonment at the chancellor’s hands. Despite Conrad’s past assurances that Sophie’s death wasn’t her fault, Finn couldn’t shake the heavy sense of guilt.

  She’d spent the better part of the last three weeks pushing all thoughts of Sophie and the chancellor as far from her mind as her psyche would allow, and she had no intention of bringing them to the foreground now.

  Despite some initial discomfort and much to her surprise, Finn found it easy to open up to the Sirian. The only time the large woman showed any reaction to her story at all happened when Finn reached the reason for her hasty departure from Independence and thus, Grim’s betrayal.

  “Kunyamen,” Enyo spat; her eyes shooting fire.

  Finn tensed at the vitriol in her voice.

  “I don’t know what that means, but it doesn’t sound good.”

  “There is no translation in your tongue, but it is the worst insult my people have for someone like this Luminary . . . for a man who lacks integrity.”

  Finn nodded her head, unsure how to respond to the vehemence in the Sirian’s voice. After eight cycles under his tutelage, it was hard to hear her mentor referred to as a man who lacked integrity—no matter how true it may be. The naïve girl inside of her wanted to jump to Grim’s defense, but the bitter woman his betrayal had nurtured held her back.

  “I wish to go to the sanctuary the blue one mentioned,” Enyo mused, interrupting Finn’s thoughts.

  Two hours later, Finn had dropped Enyo off at Isis’s sanctuary for a visit and spent some time catching up with Tiri in her room. The Sirian only allowed the separation on the promise Finn would go straight to her room and await her new bodyguard’s return.

  Now, she was finally alone with her thoughts, and she was learning that alone with her thoughts was not a great place to be. Finn flopped on the soft bed and considered the ceiling. Despite her desire to hide away and avoid any inevitable conflict, there was a large part of her that was grateful to be back on Independence.

  Shane wanted to join forces in saving the hybrids and she was more than happy to share the burden of that particular task. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever trust the captain and his crew again, but if Conrad, Isis, and Tiri were to be believed, none of them had known the true extent of Grim’s lies.

  Conrad was not the same man after you left.

  Isis’s quiet proclamation rang in Finn’s ears, resonating like a sonic pulse. Fueled by righteous anger, she’d felt supremely justified in her actions for the last few weeks. She hadn’t once stopped to consider the ones she’d left behind.

  She hadn’t allowed herself.

  You shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye. Everyone’s thoughts were so sad when you left.

  Poor little Tiri;
every time Finn moved to leave the room, the child’s eyes would light up with a panic she couldn’t quite hide.

  Conrad, a man unaccustomed to fear, had spent the last three weeks terrified for Finn’s well-being. Shane and Isis had worried; even AJ seemed to be affected by her leaving. After cycles on her own, it was both terrifying and oddly touching to realize so many people were in her corner.

  If she were really being honest with herself, she would admit that running away and enacting a plan to save the hybrids without help had been a bit impulsive and maybe just a touch selfish, but Finn wasn’t sure she was ready to be that honest.

  “I owe Conrad an apology, don’t I?” she asked the empty room. As expected, the walls didn’t respond, but Finn figured she already knew the answer anyway.

  Enyo is going to kill me.

  On that dark thought, Finn rose from the bed and headed for the door.

  Finn regarded the door to Conrad’s quarters, wringing her hands nervously. Should she knock? Should she just walk in, blurt out an apology, and sprint back to her room before Conrad had time to deny her?

  It was safe to say that acts of contrition weren’t exactly in Finn’s wheelhouse. To survive the Farthers, it was necessary to stand by one’s decisions and never falter; never show weakness. In those endeavors, she had always been successful. But Finn wasn’t in the Farthers anymore, and the father she was starting to remember, her real father (Gods rest his soul), had taught her better. So she forced herself to take a deep breath and knock.

  Hours seemed to pass in the tense silence that followed. Finally, the door hissed open in front of her and Finn heaved an internal sigh of relief; a relief that died a sure, quick death when she caught sight of Conrad on the other side of the door.

  He wore a singlet and cargo pants like before, but he’d recently showered and wet chunks of dark hair fell down to his shoulders, beads of water dripping from their ends and trailing a pathway down dark skin stretched taut with muscle. He registered her presence with mild disinterest, his azure eyes flicking over her with the kind of annoyed apathy one might reserve for a rodent.