“I want them disposed of!” Silverman said. He had his arms crossed, his faithful dog at his side.

They were in the main audience chamber. Silverman had a clan member a few feet behind him. His escort.

Blake shook his head. Shane Threscher would only be faithful so long as it suited his own needs, then he’d be a liability and Silverman would probably end up killing him once his usefulness comes to an end. Or maybe the commando would blackmail Silverman.

“They aren’t a threat so long as I keep them in my prisons here on Acheron,” Rork said.

Blake couldn’t be responsible for their deaths.

“What if they escape?” Silverman barked. What if the Alliance flies in, destroys your city while attempting to find me and Diplomat Kolivar before our plan is pulled off? Those two men could derail our whole operation. Do you want to see that happen?”

Rork glanced at Blake and Blake shook his head. The warlord started to pace the room, obviously deciding what he would do.

Silverman threw his arms down. “I can put an end to our deal, Rork!”

Rork grimaced. “Fine, Silverman. You get what you want. I will have the prisoners executed.”

A knot formed in Blake’s stomach. Why did that asshole have to go bragging to Dan and Marcus? Wasn’t sitting in cell enough for the sadistic psycho?

I can’t be party to this wanton murder. Fuck this!

Blake drew his pistol. “We’re not killing anybody!”

Silverman tensed. “What the fuck, Rork? Take control of your man!”

“I’m in control, you bastard!” Blake shouted.

“Mr. Halls,” Rork said sternly. “Put the gun down.”

“We’re not his lapdogs, Rork!” He gestured with his pistol, indicating Shane. “Like this asshole—this piece of shit!”

He must have looked like a person who had never handled a weapon before—frantic and jerky in his movements.

Rork looked at Blake straight in the eyes. “You’re being emotional. Put. The gun. Down!”

“Fuck!” Blake lowered his pistol and Rork quickly moved to take the gun away from him.

“Well,” Silverman said, straightening his stained jacket. “I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day.” He left room, Shane at his heels.

“What...” Rork started to say, then the back of his hand connected with Blake’s face. “...were you thinking?”

Pain flared in Blake’s jaw. He pushed himself to his back, blinked. “I’m no murderer, Rork. I can’t be a part of this.”

“You already are a part of this, Mr. Halls.” Rork lifted his hand, jabbing a finger at Blake, emphasizing every word with a shove of his hand. “You’re going to finish this!”

Blake rubbed his jaw and Rork left the room, slamming the two inch steel door on his way out.

You’re already a part of this...

* * *

Dan examined the hinge on the metal door. It was old and rusty, but intact. Somebody obviously made rounds to make sure the prison was fully functional.

Marcus sat on his knees, watching him, obviously hoping he would find a way out. “Well?”

Dan shook his head, standing up to examine the hinge on the top of the door. It was also intact. He moved away from the door and started examining the makeshift bars. They looked to be old metal support beams and gantry pieces all welded together at different angles. “These bars are pretty rusty. Maybe we can knock some of them loose.”

He looked around the cell. Nothing. Just dirt. He turned back to the bars and started to kick them.

Marcus got up, started doing the same. The cage rattled, but nothing came loose.

“Keep going,” Dan said. “Don’t stop.” He kicked hard, the shock of his blows reverberating up his leg. “Some of these have got to come loose—it’s our only change to escape.”

* * *

Blake paced back and forth in his personal quarters, rubbed his jaw. Rork had punched him. He hadn’t expected that. Of course, he hadn’t expected to draw his weapon either. What had he been thinking?

I need you, Mr. Halls...

The warlord did not need Blake. He was never under any delusions that Rork needed him. But he seemed to want Blake’s help. Strange. Blake didn’t really possess the type of mind or skills to pull off this plan.

Why did the warlord want somebody to help him? To be there when he celebrated his success down the road? As far as Blake knew, Rork was not the type of man who wanted friendship. But it seemed different.

So long as you do what he says, he told himself.

Rork was not Blake’s friend and he would probably kill Blake if he got in the warlord’s way. That was not how friendship worked.

Rork would give a man something and expect something in return. Blake was grateful the warlord had saved him, gave him a position in the clan. But what Rork wanted in return, Blake couldn’t give.

And then the warlord kidnapped Susa Jaiban. An innocent girl.

Innocent...

“He should just leave her out of this!” Blake had promised himself after the trial. No more innocent deaths.

And yet he was becoming a man who was even worse than the one who was sent here in the first place.

Blake continued to pace up and down his room in a fury. He was a murderer—a guilty man. He wanted to be here. Not at first, but he came to realize that after the trial, he deserved to be here on Acheron.

He wished he was a different man—had been a different man.

But you’re a greedy selfish bastard, aren’t you, Blake?

What had he done that wasn’t? Had he ever helped anyone at his expense in five years on this hellhole?

He hadn’t. Blake always kept telling himself that he would find opportunities to make things right. Oh, he did little things, but none of it was enough.

If Rork’s plans came to fruition, a lot of people were going to die. The warlord believed it a good cause, but that didn’t make it right.

This was Blake’s chance to do the right thing. He had to stop this—stop Dan and Marcus from getting executed. Stop everything. What Rork was doing... it was wrong.

With determination, he moved to the table, reached for his spare pistol and stopped. His hand was shaking uncontrollably. “Shit.”

He took the weapon and strapped it on his belt before leaving his room.