Page 121 of Dustwalker
“You do not need to apologize to me. You’ve every right to be angry about what’s happened, and there’s nothing we can say or do to erase those wrongs. I wish we could’ve met under more pleasant circumstances, Miss Lara, but I am glad to have met you all the same.”
“Me too. Maybe… Maybe you could come with us? I mean, this place is better than my old shack, but you could do better.”
“Perhaps the next time you stumble in unannounced, I will accept the invitation,” he replied, the humor in his voice laced with melancholy “I fear I’m not quite ready to lift my self-imposed exile, but you’ve given me much to think on.”
“Well, then, I guess…until next time?”
Newton stepped aside and gestured up the stairs. “Until next time.”
Lara smiled at him as she passed to climb the steps.
Ronin stopped in front of Newton. “Thank you.”
Newton nodded. “The name you’ve chosen suits you well. Do not lose who you have become.”
“I won’t. And I hope you remember who you were, before too much longer.”
Lara jiggled the broken handle and pushed the heavy door open.The metal-on-metal scrape of its hinges was like the groan of a dying animal, echoing off the concrete walls.
The next sound, so small in comparison but so much more powerful, was Lara’s startled gasp. Ronin swung his optics upward to see hands closing on her arms, and then she was dragged outside his field of vision.
“Ronin!” she screamed.
“Lara!” He leapt up the stairs and burst into the yellow-gray morning, swinging his rifle into his hands. Lara was near the house. Ronin didn’t waste any processing power contemplating how it had withstood the storm.
Two gearheads were holding her, one with a large hand clamped over her mouth. That was Boulder, the stout bot who’d helped hold Ronin down outside the clinic. Warlord stood beside them.
Ronin took aim, but he didn’t fire. The risk to Lara was too great.
Wordlessly, the gearheads pushed Lara to Warlord. He wrapped one arm around her neck and the other around her waist, drawing her against his chest and cutting off her scream by putting pressure on her throat. Her fingers clawed at his forearm.
Wide-eyed, she met Ronin’s optics.
“Put the gun down, dustwalker,” Warlord commanded flatly.
Ronin hesitated, frantically running simulations, searching for some way to turn the situation to his favor. To save her.
Warlord narrowed his optics, and his grip on Lara’s throat tightened, causing her to release a choked sound. “You disobey, and you know how it ends. Don’t make me say it again.”
Hovering along the trigger guard, Ronin’s finger twitched. Would one shot be enough? Enough to do what Lara wanted, to end Warlord for good, to free all the people who lived in his shadow of terror? Was this the sort of sacrifice she wanted them to make?
No. I can’t risk her. I won’t lose her.
He removed his left hand from the handguard and crouched, placing the rifle on the dusty ground.
Warlord’s optics flicked from left to right.
Ronin’s audio receptors picked up a whisper of grass, and then a great weight hit him from each side. Two more gearheads. They took hold of his arms, wrenching them behind his back, dragged off his packs, and forced him facedown into the dirt.
“I prefer it when things go the easy way,” Warlord said as one of theother gearheads strode forward and plucked up the rifle. “This part was easy. Unfortunately, you made the rest of this very unpleasant for me. I don’t appreciate having to leave my city because my leniency’s been abused.”
“You said to get rid of her. She’s not in Cheyenne anymore.” Ronin twisted his head to center Lara in his vision.
“I did, didn’t I? I shouldn’t be surprised you took it that way. Whenever I think I’ve made something abundantly clear to you, it goes over your head. Guess I’ll just have to demonstrate what I mean when I tell you to get rid of something.”
Warlord released Lara only long enough to clamp a hand on the back of her neck. His lips curled into a sneer as he looked her over. “You should have stayed in the dirt, where you belong.”
He slammed a fist into her abdomen.
