Page 58 of Hunting the Warlord's Daughter

“You sick, sadistic tyrant. This is for Aral.” Bolivarr shot him between the eyes.

Karbon’s reign of terror was over.

Kaz scooped up Aral’s dozer on her way across the chamber. “Aral!” Wren ran to him, the book tucked under one arm. “Kaz, Bolivarr! You’re Bolivarr, right? Help me get these restraints off him.”

Bolivarr aimed a device at Aral and the bot-cuffs released.

“Goddess be.” Wren’s gaze was everywhere, looking for broken parts. “What did he do to you?”

“I look worse than I feel. Wait—did you say ‘Goddess be?’”

“I had a bit of a religious experience in there. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Aral…” Bolivarr said, striding toward him. In the next moment they were locked in a emotional embrace. Then Kaz joined in, and finally Wren. There wasn’t a dry eye in the cave.

“Why the hells didn’t you call?” Aral joked, gripping Bolivarr’s shoulders.

Bolivarr cast a dark look at Karbon’s inert body. “He wanted intelligence on the treasure—the coordinates, what was inside the sanctum. It triggered my thought suppression, not that I’d have told him anything. He lost his temper when he couldn’t get what he was after.”

Aral narrowed his eyes, warding off memories of Karbon’s temper and then guilt. “When you disappeared, I blamed myself. I thought I sent you to your death.”

“No.” Bolivarr sounded firm. “But Karbon very nearly did. He broke just about every major bone in my body and left me in a trash heap. Fates, Aral. He treated me no different than how he did you all our lives. I never knew how bad it was. The beatings. I failed you because I never once came to your defense.”

Aral stiffened. “Don’t.”

“It’s the truth. Do you think I’ve forgotten? You’d tell me to stay back, and I did. I was terrified of him and let you take his punches.”

“Today you took mine.”

“I don’t know about that” Bolivarr smiled wryly. “You look… colorful.”

“Nano-meds will make short work of it.” The bruises would soon be gone, and already his headache felt better.

“We’ve got visitors,” Kaz said. A semi-circle of Space Marines holding mag-rifles appeared in the passageway, others crowding in behind them.

Wren tightened her hold on the book, her chin coming up, that look Aral knew too well promised dire consequences if someone threatened them.

Ridges creased Bolivarr’s forehead. “Stay here. I’ll handle this.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

“Well,bite me in the ass and give my heart a squeeze,” Rakkelle said. “The Wraith’s found his people.”

From the bridge, Hadley watched the scene in the cave unfold via viewer bots and body cams worn by the Origins One crew. She could hardly believe her eyes. Karbon Mawndarr was lying dead on the floor, Aral Mawndarr—Bo’sbrother—stood close to the warlord’s waif-like daughter, who hugged a priceless relic to her chest. Wren Senderin had gained access to the sanctum, but had withdrawn only one item of interest, to be shared it “with no one but the ship’s priestess.”

Meanwhile, a woman with short dark hair named Kazara Kaan hadn’t left Bolivarr’s side. They seemed to soak in each other’s features before he pulled her into a hug.

Hadley wanted to die.

“Maybe it’s his sister,” Rakkelle said.

Hadley appreciated her friend’s optimism, but that so wasn’t a brother-sister moment.

She clasped her hands behind her back and told herself she should be joyous that Bolivarr’s memories had returned. She should be profoundly moved by the miracle it presented. She should be experiencing many good and noble things.

It was hard to do when it felt as if she’d swallowed her heart.

Captain Rorkken spoke over the main comm speaker. “Miss Senderin is willing to come aboard the ship and submit to a debrief as long as we can guarantee her safety—and that of Aral Mawndarr and Kazara Kaan.”

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