The old woman was staring after her leader. She didn't bother looking at the two asking questions. "I don't know where he's going. If you want to know, I'd suggest you follow him."
Thoreaux started forward, but Servia grabbed his right arm hard to halt him. "Did you know about his wife?"
He didn't understand her obsession with the question, but he knew she wouldn’t let him leave without answering it. "Yes. He asked if he could see what was happening to her when he first got to Pluto. That's it. Now, let me go see what the hell he's doing."
Servia held him for a second longer, then shook her head and let go of his arm. She turned to the AllMother. "I assume you know more than that?"
The AllMother turned a withering gaze on the younger woman. "Yes. What would you like to know? I don't remember you being born when this plan was made, but I'm sure you have much to say about it."
Thoreaux didn't have time for them to argue. Pro was doing something right now, and he didn’t think it’d be the smartest decision the man ever made. He left the room and didn‘t hear what Servia said in response to the AllMother’s statement.
He looked both ways in the hall. One direction led to the bridge, and the other to the brig. Pro could want something in either area of the ship, but Thoreaux didn't have time to check both right now. He also wasn't going to send an announcement out, knowing the enemy would hear it.
Thoreaux chose the brig. If any of the prisoners had useful information, it would be the ones lodged there.
He flew through the halls, remembering what Pro had told him. He was dependent on Thoreaux to watch his blind spots, and it was obvious his wife was a major one.
He heard footsteps behind him at one point and saw that Faitrin was running as fast as she could to catch up. Thoreaux didn't slow down, but he was glad someone else had come too. Stopping Pro from doing whatever he intended would be difficult.
It took some time, but he reached the brig. The large doors were shut, but Thoreaux walked up to them, expecting they'd open.
They didn't. "What the hell? What's going on?" he asked, turning to Faitrin as she reached the door. From the other end of the hall, he saw Obs bounding toward them. The drathe had sensed something was wrong and rushed to find his master.
"That's why I came." Faitrin breathed out heavily while Obs slid to a stop, staring up at her. "He's got Primus-level access, and I thought he might tell it to reject everyone else. Let me get to the panel."
Thoreaux did as she told him, stepping back so she could harmonize. Her eyes showed falling gray snow as she stared at the closed door. His palms were sweaty, and his chest was heaving from the hard run.
"It's going to open in a sec, but we've got another problem." She glanced at Thoreaux, her gray eyes appearing to see nothing. "He's jammed the fucking elevator too, and I don't think I can make it work."
Alistair didn't want anyone to stop him from what he was going to do.
To ensure that, he rode the elevator down, then unleashed his Whip on it. It was a smoking heap of trash behind him, and he was staring at Hel in her prison. Her face was a mess of broken bones and bruises. Alistair had allowed her no medical treatment, and he'd been wondering if that had been the right choice. It was not a humane choice. Now, he felt no doubts. He only wished he'd beaten more answers out of her.
She’d been lying down when he arrived, but when he'd taken out his rage on the elevator, she'd slowly sat up. Alistair couldn't see if she had fear in her eyes because they were nearly swollen shut. The rest of her body? She curled up as she stared at him.
He hopped easily across the small space separating them. Hel backed up on the ledge until she was in the corner.
"You know why I'm here?" he asked. His Whip hung at his side, the strands floating lazily as they waited for their master's command.
She nodded. He knew it would hurt her to speak. It might even be impossible, but speak, she would.
Alistair let his Whip extend until the lasers touched the deck. They ground into the perfect white material, turning it black as smoke rose toward the ceiling. "What are they going to do with my wife? I want to know everything you know. If you don't tell me, Hel, you’ll see that I'm a surgeon with this weapon."
The woman pointed at her mouth. When she spoke, it sounded like she was talking through a mouthful of mashed potatoes and gravy. "I can hardly fucking talk. I need some medicine and some time in the goddamn medbay if you want me to help."
Alistair reached out to slap her.
"PRO! DON'T!"
The call came from above; Thoreaux was yelling at him. His hand hung above the woman, who was cringing in fear. The assassin was staring at him as if he were a monster.
What am I doing? he thought. What are they turning me into?
He was here because he'd let two parents escape with their lives, and now he stood above a beaten woman, ready to beat her more.
Alistair lowered his hand and retracted his Whip. He had managed to fight his base instincts this entire time, never turning into a monster. Now they were using his wife to cause him to do just that. He wouldn't do it. He would not destroy the man his wife loved, regardless of what they told her.
"PRO!" Thoreaux screamed again.
Alistair stepped across the cell, grabbed the edge of the glass wall, and leaned out. He stared up, able to see Thoreaux's face at the top of the pit. "Repair this fucking
