Chapter Twenty-Two

Orin would bust this ship apart rivet by rivet. He’d rip the bastards’ heads off. He’d tear the flesh from his own bones if he needed to. Just see if he wouldn’t.

These Outlier scumbags didn’t know what a man raised in the Verge colonies was capable of.

Orin had lived through things that would make their metal-riddled skin crawl. Make them weep and beg and cower just like he had. Like the snot-nosed little boy he’d been.

Well, now the boy had grown into a mountain. And the mountain was pissed.

He spat out an acrid mouthful of blood onto the rust-streaked floor, flexing against the restraints, the first band clamped around his biceps to pull his elbows behind his back and the second row tight around his wrists.

Thing was, these raiders were cheap bastards. Used inexpensive standard restraints, mass produced, one-size-fits-most garbage.

Orin wasn’t most, turned out. And he’d been in this situation before, just with a lot less to lose. Now he had to bide his time, make sure he could get to Ari before he busted out of these.

He flexed again just to feel them strain, the telltale creak of overstretched joints letting him know just where he was going to need to put the most pressure when the time came.

Pushing to his feet, he took position beside the door at the thump-clank-scrape of steps approaching. At least two sets of boots.

He pressed his straining shoulder into the wall beside the door, debating whether it was better to go ahead and bust out of his cuffs or wait and see.

The soft sound of a familiar voice making a stifled noise of protest settled the debate.

Orin wasn’t going to make a single move that might endanger Aristotle.

The door slid halfway open, Ari tumbling inside like he’d been pressed against it, barely drawing his legs back in time for it to slide shut again with a reverberating clang.

Ari’s harsh breath filled the room as he used his cuffed hands to balance himself on his knees, head swiveling anxiously.

The only light provided was the strobing ceiling panel, casting him in alternating washes of yellow light and deepened shadow.

Orin stepped away from the door, and Ari’s breath caught on a sob, hands lifting to reach for him.

Orin nearly fell to his knees, arms throwing him off balance as he rushed over, drinking in Ari’s face.

“Did they touch you, honey? Did they put their filthy rusted hands on you?”

Ari ignored the question as his hands ran all over Orin’s head, fingers drifting across his face before squeezing at his stiff shoulders, sweet little face creased with concern.

Sweet little face not marked up with anything else, thank the stars.

Orin ducked his head to meet his eyes, voice all busted up gravel in his throat. “Answer me.”

Ari shook his head, hands still roaming over Orin’s face like he didn’t quite know he was doing it. “No. No one has hurt me. They have orders to leave me—I believe the term was—intact.”

Orin nodded like he believed him, but he caught a flash of pale skin through a deliberate slit cut into his shirt. Fresh copper flooded his mouth as he bit his cheek at the sight.

First man he found with a knife on him better say his prayers.

Speaking of.

“Listen, sugar. I’m gonna need you to do something for me right quick. Reach behind me and feel at the rear clip of my braces. There’s a little catch on the side next to my skin, just big enough to push a fingernail into. Can you press that for me? I can usually get it in wristcuffs, but these armbands are tripping me up a little.”

Ari blinked in confusion, hands falling to his lap. “For what purpose?”

Orin rolled his eyes, scuffling around on his knees to present his back to Ari. “Obviously, I’m trying to get those pretty little fingers in my pants. Thought right here and now was a good time to be getting amorous. Nah, I got a little blade in there I need you to get out for me.”

Ari’s hands slid carefully into the back of his trousers, the rounded bulk of his cuffs pressing uncomfortably into Orin’s lower back as he shifted his fingers this way and that, searching for the catch.

His forehead rested between Orin’s shoulder blades, voice soft and breath warm through the thin linen of his shirt.

“I do apologize, Orin. I don’t seem especially adept at this. I’m afraid I’m finding it terribly difficult to locate. I’m not sure if— Oh!”

His little exclamation was barely a puff of air against Orin’s back, drowned out by the click of his brace blade coming loose in his hands.

Ari drew his hand out of Orin’s trousers with extreme care, sitting back on his heels to examine the blade. It was thin and narrow, just about the size of Ari’s ring finger.

Orin shuffled back around, spinning the odds in his head as he thought through every way he might get them out of there alive and unshackled.

Not but one way he could think of really. Might as well get started now.

Ari held the blade out to him on his palm, as if offering an after-dinner sweet. Orin shook his head.

“Nah, baby, that’s for you to get out of those cuffs. Bring your wrists up here so I can get a good look at them.”

Ari lifted his arms, wincing as they raised over his shoulder.

Someone was going to lose an augment or two over that wince. Orin was going to send pieces of bloody machinery flying through the dark after this.

He examined Ari’s cuffs, asking him to turn this way or that to get a better angle. Took a minute, but Orin finally nodded, relieved these weren’t the kind you couldn’t get out of without breaking some bones.

“Okay, here’s what you’re gonna do. You hand me that blade, and I’ll hold it steady for you. Then you’re gonna bash those cuffs against the floor just as hard as you can right there on that red stripe. Once they get a crack, you’re gonna wedge the blade in and pry them open just enough to slip out. Might scrape a bit, but you’ve got narrow little hands, should come out easy.”

Ari nodded, following his instructions to the letter, with a moment of difficulty in getting them to crack. Orin loved watching his little face scrunch with determination as he kept on trying without a whine, solid steel spine under all that delicate beauty.

Once Ari’s hands were free, if a little red and scraped raw, he took the blade from Orin’s fingers, feeling over Orin’s cuffs with his dominant hand.

“Alright, now tell me how to do yours.”

Orin shook his head, twisting his body around to Ari. “Not doing mine yet.”

Ari crawled over to face him, blade clutched carefully in his hand.

“Whyever not? It seems to me you would be far more of an asset than I am. I assumed I was removing my cuffs in order to better remove yours.”

Orin shook his head again. “No, see, they’re gonna come back in here pretty soon, and if they see me swinging my arms, they’ll just stun us both down. You take that blade, and you’re gonna wait by the door. When it opens, I’m gonna rush the bastards, bowl them over on their metal asses. Bust out of my cuffs while I’m busting heads. Meanwhile, you run and take the first ship you find away from here.”

Ari’s face darkened, and he dropped the blade to the floor with a quiet ping. His hands were steady and purposeful as he felt over Orin’s scalp.

“I believe you may have suffered a head injury. Because surely that is the only possible explanation for your presenting me with a plan that involves me leaving you trussed up here to be sold like a pig at the market.”

Orin butted his head against Ari’s palm, carefully arranging his face into a cocky grin.

“Aw, now, don’t you worry about me. I’ll knock ’em all flat and make my way home in my own time. You go on and find your brother.”

Ari’s intelligent eyes burned into Orin’s face, melting away the grin like a layer of wax. “You’re lying. You don’t think you can get out of this, and you’re lying to get me to leave you here.”

Orin finally lost it. In the back of his mind, he knew he came across like a wild beast, teeth bared and bloody, massive shoulders rounded painfully backward by his arms lashed tightly behind him. He just couldn’t care any longer.

He pushed his face up to Ari’s, putting every ounce of authority he ever had into his voice. “Do as I say, damn it. We’ll only get one chance.”

Ari rested his hands on Orin’s chest, face drained of all color, freckles like specks of blood spattered in the snow. “I’m not going to run like a coward and abandon you to these barbarians! How could you—?”

“Please. Baby.” Orin’s voice grated rough and sharp over Ari’s objections, stripped down to his bones with nothing left but honesty. “Please. Do this for me. This one last thing.”

Ari’s face crumpled, tears connecting the dots between his freckles. He petted at Orin’s face and hair like he was something precious. His soft touch hurt Orin worse than the ache in his arms. “I don’t suppose there’s much chance that you have another spouse hidden among the raiders?” His voice cracked and wobbled around the edges of his attempt at lightness.

Orin chuckled weakly, letting his face fall into the cup of Ari’s hands. “’Fraid not, sugar.”

Ari nodded absently as he catalogued Orin’s face with the same level of concentration Orin had seen him devote to his rocks. No detail left unnoticed under all that brilliance.

Ari wiped at the tears on his face and traced the line of Orin’s jaw with damp fingers.

“I love you,” he said, and it slipped over every inch of Orin just like silk, so smooth and so soft that it flowed right across all his ugly places, whispered over his jagged edges where he always thought it would snag and tear and get ruined.

It didn’t. It wasn’t ruined. It was right there, in those eyes. Huge and green and fair shining with the words.

“I love you,” Ari said again, like maybe Orin didn’t hear him right the first time. Like those words in that voice wouldn’t be ringing in his ears until his dying day.

Orin collapsed forward, pressing their lips together messy and soft and as sweet as he could make it with the taste of blood still in his mouth, whispering secrets like a cup spilling over with honeyed wine.

“Sweetheart. You don’t even know how much I love you. Adore you. Cherish you, baby. So much I can hardly breathe for all the love I got for you, filling up my chest with hearts and flowers and stars-be-damned poetry. Mixing up my mind ’til you’re all I can think of. All the time.”

Ari laughed, and the sound mended something in Orin’s bones, something cracked and aching for so long he barely noticed it anymore.

Orin was so light and lifted he almost didn’t hear the sounds of feet approaching.