“No, not how much to rut with her. How muchforher.”
Murgen reeled backward. For a moment, it seemed as though he’d topple onto his backside. “Excuse me? I would think it clear to anyone with more than half a brain that she is not for sale. Even if she were, someone like you wouldn’t be able to meet my asking price.”
“What did you pay, Foltham?” Drakkal took a step toward Murgen.
Nostrus inserted himself between the durgan and the azhera, drawing back the side of his suit jacket with one hand and reaching for the holstered blaster beneath his arm with the other. He met Drakkal’s gaze with his cold eyes and held it. A mere meter of space separated them.
“It’s quite rude to discuss financial matters of this sort openly,” Murgen said, shaking his head behind the volturian. “Just as I had begun to consider you a respectable professional, you’ve gone and shown your true nature, that you’re no better than any typical piece of scum from the streets, that?—”
Whatever frayed string that had been tenuously holding back the fullness of Drakkal’s rage snapped in that moment. He was tired of inaction, tired of having his patience abused, tiredof being insulted. He was tired of being treated like something less than a person by people like Murgen Foltham.
Drakkal lunged forward. Nostrus was fast; the volturian managed to pull his blaster completely free of its holster before Drakkal covered the volturian’s hand with his armored prosthetic hand, halting Nostrus’s arm. Drakkal squeezed. Bones crunched.
Screaming in pain, Nostrus swung his left fist. Drakkal blocked the blow with his right forearm.
Need to get the terran out of here.
Pushing himself forward, Drakkal slammed his knee into the volturian’s midsection. Nostrus doubled over with a wheezing grunt.
Drakkal hammered his right fist into the side of Nostrus’s head. The volturian swayed. A second blow had the volturian’s knees buckling. After the third blow, only Drakkal’s hold on the volturian’s shattered hand kept Nostrus up. Drakkal struck his opponent one more time—mostly because it felt satisfying—before prying the blaster from the volturian’s limp hold and letting him collapse.
Murgen, with eyes so wide they seemed about to burst from their sockets, backed away from Drakkal. He lifted his arms and reached for his holocom, which still displayed the controls for the terran’s restraints.
Leaping over the unconscious Nostrus, Drakkal lashed out, caught hold of Murgen’s holocom, and tore the device off the durgan’s wrist. Murgen staggered backward with a quivering cry and slammed into the wall hard enough to send a jolt through his entire body.
Drakkal tossed the holocom aside, switched Nostrus’s blaster into his right hand, and continued his advance on Murgen. He thrust his cybernetic arm forward, grabbing the durgan by his fleshy throat and pinning himagainst the wall. Drakkal jammed the barrel of the blaster against Murgen’s cheek.
“Rude?” Drakkal growled. “I’m not going to let agresh navarilike you call me rude after the way you’ve behaved.”
Murgen’s lips quavered, releasing a series of stammering, unintelligible sounds.
“Suddenly don’t have much to say? I should’ve done this thirty-five minutes ago.” Drakkal leaned his face closer to Murgen’s. “You ready to listen for once in your life?”
Swallowing thickly, Murgen nodded as much as Drakkal’s hold allowed.
“You’re selling me the terran. One hundred thousand. Since you’re no longer receiving the ID chip, I’ll add the advance you paid on top of the price.”
Murgen’s eyes somehow rounded further. “That’s…that’s…a-an insult, an outrage, a-a?—”
Drakkal tightened his left hand, silencing Murgen. “Big picture, Foltham. One hundred thousand, your advance, and yourlife. She’s leaving with me whether you agree or not.”
Murgen gasped and sputtered, struggling to respond. Drakkal allowed it to continue for several seconds before easing his grip.
“All right,” Murgen croaked. “I accept. I-I agree. Sh-she’s yours!”
Those words triggered another wave of rage in Drakkal. The terran was already his; Murgen had no say in that, no right to declare it. This was just another example of the merchant’s inherent arrogance.
Drakkal wanted to pull the trigger. He’d taken many lives in his time; what was one more? Murgen Foltham had very likely harmed a lot of people apart from the ones in these cells.
But the uproar it would cause… Foltham’s death would get the Eternal Guard involved, and Drakkal had undoubtedly been captured on the manor’s surveillance system. Murgen Foltham’s wrongdoings would not shield Drakkal from repercussions—not after the merchant was dead.
But they could while Murgen was alive. The revelation of a private, illegal zoo—including sapient captives—would prove costly in a multitude of ways, and people like Murgen cared about their wealth above all else. It was the only sort of loss they understood.
Still, it took a considerable amount of Drakkal’s willpower to loosen his hold on Murgen’s throat. That willpower was dragged through the crimson haze of Drakkal’s rage in the process, and he nearly succumbed to his instinctual drive to protect his terran by eliminating this threat.
“This is all between you and me, Murgen. Understand? That’s the only way I keep quiet about yourcollection. You give her up and you get to keep everything else.” Growling, Drakkal stepped back, pulling Murgen by his neck before heaving him aside.
With a choked cry, Murgen stumbled forward and fell heavily onto hands and knees.