Page 21 of Triplets for the Barbarians

With my hands bound, I sit in the back seat of the buggy as the Kreek brothers drive across the valley and up to Pearl City’s southern gates. They’re wearing the Sky Tribe colors—matching uniforms of black and blue with the appropriate insignia sewn onto their shoulders. Their black hair is combed back in a sleek and clean fashion, and their expressions are cold and stern.

They’re grunts devoted to the cause, mission oriented. And I’m supposed to be their prisoner.

“Remember, you don’t need to tell them much,” I say as the buggy pulls over on the side of the road. Ahead, Pearl City rises—it’s even more beautiful up close. I would’ve loved to have seen it in its better days.

“We know our parts,” Yossul replies bluntly. “You focus on yours.”

He’s mad. I get it. They didn’t want me involved. Tough shit. It’s my operation, too. All I can do is make it as easy for him and Yossul as possible. I’ll play my role, I’ll do my job, and then I’ll skedaddle out of here and come back with the crew and the explosives for the big party.

Maybe when this is over, the three of us will get to sit down and laugh about it. Maybe I’ll even get the chance to say I’m sorry for pissing them off more than they deserved. Maybe they’ll brush it off and say it’s fine. And then maybe we’ll make love until the wee hours of the morning.

“Halt! Who goes there!” a man shouts from the top of the city gates. It’s a spotter with his laser weapon trained on us.

Yossul looks up. “Lieutenants Hass and Kiel,” he replies. “We bring the grand prize.”

“What grand pri—oh…” The spotter sees me in the back seat.

We hear movement behind the gates. Boots thudding. Orders barked left and right. Hinges creak as the gates are pushed open, and a swarm of armed guards pours out to greet us. I hold my breath as I watch two dozen Sky Tribe mercenaries surround the buggy.

Suddenly, I feel small and helpless. This is the point of no return. We have to sell it, or we’re screwed six ways from Sunday.

Yossul and Fadai keep calm, half-smiling as they look around.

“Relax, fellas,” Fadai says. “We’re just doing our sworn duty.”

One of the guards approaches with slow, cautious steps; his weapon pointed at the buggy. He’s taller than his mates, broad-shouldered, and somewhat startled, judging by how his gaze keeps bouncing between the three of us. “Which human is this?” the guard asks.

“I told you. The grand prize. Jewel. The one shacking up with the Kreek brothers,” Yossul says. “We got her.”

“How did you get her?” the guard replies, his brows pulled tightly together as he looks at me. My God, there is so much hatred in his eyes; I’m sure he’d kill me right here, right now, if he had that liberty. “The Kreek whore…”

“Fuck you!” I hiss, wrestling against my restraints.

Fadai backhands me across the face, hard enough to sell it but not hard enough to make me see white stars. My cheek hurts. It had to be done.

“Quiet, whore,” he says, then looks at the guard. “We caught her and some of the Kreek boys while they were scoping out the southeastern outpost,” he says. “They had guns and explosive charges on them.”

“What happened to her crew?”

“We killed them all,” Yossul says.

The guard gives him a curious look. “Who are you, again?”

“Yoren Hass, third-grade lieutenant, stationed in Ruby City,” Yossul replies. My badge number is here,” he nods at the brass on his shoulder. And this is Fallon Kiel, second-grade lieutenant, also stationed in Ruby City.”

“What were you doing so close to Pearl City, then?”

Yossul chuckles, satisfaction dripping from every tone of his voice. “My brother, we’ve been trailing this bitch and her cohort for months! They’ve had us running all over the realm until we could finally corner them.”

“No one told us you were coming,” the guard says.

Fadai narrows his eyes as he checks his shoulder tresses. “You’re a fucking guard. You’re not privy to sensitive intel. You probably don’t even have access to the higher-ups’ radio frequency.”

“This victory belongs to everyone,” Yossul adds. “Now, take us into the city. We need to keep the Kreek whore safe and secure until we get new orders.”

The guards exchange resentful glances. Fadai’s words struck deep, but only because they were true. These are low-level soldiers, and the Sky Tribe’s comms lines have been split for over two years. Certain frequencies are kept for the grunts—movements, common instructions, updates on various operations at a regional level—while the command lines have been bouncing from one wavelength to another to keep us from hijacking or listening in on them.

Our presence here unannounced isn’t a surprise. It’s just the precious cargo that’s got these boys’ panties twisted into knots. The tension is so high that the air feels thick enough to clog my lungs as I try to keep cool in their presence. Some of them give me hungry looks—they would absolutely have their way with me if given the chance.

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