“You did… well back there,” I reflect as we resume our trek, him two meters in front with his hands up, the gun between us.

“Not so bad yourself. How about you leave your little rock friends and come work for me?” Felix suggests.

“You played your part too well—”

“That’s something to complain about?”

“No, but it’s definitely confusing.”

He halts and spins around, lowering his arms. “I played my part, because I didn’t want anyone getting hurt. You’re no match against two men—”

“Don’t pretend like you were looking out for me—”

“I was! I am. Ailee, you pull that trigger—even if you don’t hit anyone—and you’ll be executed on the spot. I can’t protect you if—”

“I can protect myself! Just admit that what this is really all about is you looking like a hero to Boss for transporting me there amicably for whatever sadistic purpose he has and—”

“His interest in you is what’s keeping you alive. You and boy-toy take up resources—”

“Then let us go! Send us on our way, and we’ll leave in peace. We won’t come looking for you. We’ll say a wealthy couple from Solarity on their twentieth anniversary was taking a tour of the asteroid belt and happened to come across us—”

“How would you explain the logo on the ship you return on?”

“One of them is a veteran of the Martian Space Force. And don’t give me that, I know you can easily change the logo on the ship.”

He’s silent for a while, eyes glimmering in the low light. “I’m sorry, Ailee. I’ll do everything I can to help you, I promise. But we have to do it on my terms—” he cuts off.

I puncture the silence, “I’m still the one with the double-action revolver.”

“So it may seem.” He eyes the gun intensely, and I lay my finger on the trigger to intimidate him. He doesn’t react. “Tell me, Ailee, did you switch out the bullets?”

I stiffen.

“Unlike the coilgun that you Keepers are so fond of, guns like that 1943 Smith & Wesson revolver require a propellant.” He steps forward. “See, the funny thing about powder and primer is that there’s an expiration date.” I remain silent, afraid my voice will shake if I speak. “I took them out of the cartridges years ago and reconfigured the bullets into their casings to put back into the gun.” He takes another step forward.

“Stop moving. Why would you keep a gun loaded with ineffective bullets?”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Old powder starts to smell, and I like to store the set together unless I need to prepare for a confrontation. But it’s an antique, so it wouldn’t be my first choice anyways.”

He smirks. And lunges at me.

I pull the trigger as hard as I can.

Click.

Oh, shi—

He slams into me, tackling me to the floor where my tailbone screams upon contact. He squeezes my hand, and pain floods my wrist and forearm, forcing me to slacken my grip. Wrestling the gun out of my hand and sliding it across the metal ground, out of reach, he exclaims, “Christ! You were really planning to shoot me.” With my free hand, I try to throw a punch, but he catches my fist a whisper away from his jaw. He pins my arms to the floor above my head with one hand, and with the other he… touches my leg.

“Hey!” I knee him where it’ll hurt the most.

But he seizes my knee before it connects and drives it back down. “Woah! Don’t get your knickers in a knot. I’m just making sure you don’t have any more of my stolen weapons on you.”

“Stolen?” I pant, “That’s ironic coming from you.”

“Ah-ha!” His fingers finally leave my skin as he pulls out the knife from my garter. “Ooh, what do we have here? A matching set! This is a 2020 Smith & Wesson carbon, fixed-blade knife. I quite like this one, actually. I use it to skin girls who misbehave.” He expertly flicks the sheath off with one hand and holds the sharp metal to my throat. The thin, cool line against my skin ceases my struggling.

“Felix.” I swallow.

“Ailee,” he sings, his body weight immobilizing.

“Get off. You’re hurting me.”

“Well, you were about to kill me. I’d say this is a fair trade-off.” He attempts to meet my gaze. I look away. “You still don’t trust me?”

“How can I? You’ve given me no reason to. You won’t even tell me your plan.”

“I told you, I don’t have one. I’m not really the premeditating type.”

I let out a shallow laugh, and wince when Felix’s leg involuntarily digs into my lung.

“Sorry,” he mutters, cautiously lifting his weight off and settling for straddling me. “You try that knee thing again, and you’ll regret it.” He stores the knife in his boot, but I’m still pinned to the floor.

“A Captain who doesn’t have the ability to plan. This just keeps getting better.”

“There’s no need to throw insults, darling. It’s worked out for me so far.” He leans down, a hint of alcohol on his breath. “Allows me to stay on my toes, get creative.” His nose touches mine, and a shiver runs through me. I can’t tell if I like it or not, but I certainly don’t wish to. “You’ll want me on your side when the impromptu crisis hits.”

His face moves a few centimeters away, giving me a clearer view of the charcoal around his eyes beginning to smudge. His eyes beg me to acknowledge his sincerity. Well, at least sincerity laced with amusement and hazard. They flit to my lips, and I close my eyes. I forget what I’m supposed to be doing, supposed to be saying. I forget that I’m not supposed to trust him, not supposed to…

To what, Ailee?

What are you waiting for?

I want to ta—

“Put these on. I’m taking away your restraint-free privileges,” Felix’s voice invades my inner monologue as he pulls out handcuffs from a belt loop. I considered using them on him earlier, but if any of the crew saw their Captain bound, there would’ve been no chance of leaving this ship. There is no chance of leaving.

Still straddling me, he lets go of my wrists and hands me the restraints. For some reason, cuffing myself feels more humiliating than if he’d cuffed me instead. Yet his expression gives nothing away. In fact, he looks more melancholy than smug.

“Finished?” he questions.

I nod.

He triple locks the handcuffs and smoothly pulls me to my feet. My arms hang dejectedly in front of me, sore, reflecting my chaotic state of mind. Felix covers his pensive gaze with a rapturous smile. “So…” he proposes, “dinner?”