Chapter 3: The Aftermath and a Promise
The corridors of the Aurora Wing were quiet at this hour, the neon glow of the casino fading to a muted hum behind sealed bulkheads. Dave carried Jane through the station like she was made of glass, her arms looped around his neck, her breath warm against his throat. She weighed almost nothing—a fact that made his jaw tighten with a cold, familiar rage. He could feel her ribs through the thin fabric of the medical shift, the sharp angles of her hips pressing against his forearms. She'd been starving on that ship, in those rooms, under those men. Starving for years.
His quarters were at the end of the corridor, a sliding door that hissed open at his approach, revealing a space that was small but clean, utilitarian in the way of a man who'd never quite learned to make a place his own. The bed was made with military precision, the desk cluttered with datapads and security reports, the viewport offering a panoramic sweep of the void—a black velvet field scattered with stars that looked close enough to touch.
Jane stirred in his arms, her eyes fluttering open as he crossed the threshold. She looked around, cataloging the space with that same wary, watchful gaze she'd turned on him in that brothel, in that storage room. He could see her assessing the exits, the sightlines, the places where someone might hide.
"Safe," he said, lowering her gently to the edge of the bed. "No one else has access to this room but me."
She nodded, but didn't look convinced. Her hands were clasped in her lap, her fingers twisting together, the knuckles white with tension. She was still wearing the medical shift, the thin fabric clinging to her damp skin from the sweat of their earlier exertion.
Dave moved to the bathroom, a compact module that hummed softly as he started the water running. Steam began to rise, filling the small space with the scent of synthetic lavender and heat. He tested the temperature with his wrist, adjusted the flow, and then returned to the bedroom, holding out his hand to her.
"Come on. You need to get clean."
Jane looked at his hand for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she took it, letting him pull her to her feet. She followed him into the bathroom, her steps hesitant, her eyes fixed on the tub as if it might spring a trap.
"It's just water," Dave said gently. "Nothing else. No one's going to hurt you here."
She laughed—a short, bitter sound. "That's what I used to think about the showers on Venus. Before they took me." She shook her head, her jaw tightening. "They always caught you in the shower. When you were safest, most vulnerable. That's when they struck."
Dave's hands stilled on the tap. He turned to face her, his expression soft, his voice low. "I'm not them, Jane. I'm never going to be them. I'm going to stand right here, and I'm going to wait for you to tell me what you need.Nothing more."
She held his gaze for a long, searching moment, her eyes moving across his face like she was reading a map of every lie he'd ever told. Then, slowly, she reached down and pulled the medical shift over her head, letting it fall to the floor.
She was naked before him, her body a testament to survival—every scar, every bruise, every hollow space between her ribs. She didn't flinch under his gaze. She stood there, letting him see her, a silent challenge that he would truly look, truly see what she'd endured, or whether he'd turn away like all the rest.
Dave let his eyes travel over her, not with hunger, but with reverence. He saw the network of fine white scars crisscrossing her thighs, the mottled bruises that still lingered on her upper arms, the way her collarbone jutted out beneath her skin like a blade. And he saw her strength—the way she held herself, the steel in her spine, the defiance that burned in her gaze.
"You're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said.
Jane's breath hitched. She didn't speak, but she stepped forward, into the tub, sinking into the water with a soft gasp as the heat enveloped her. She settled against the back of the tub, her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, making herself as small as possible at the far end.
Dave knelt beside the tub, reaching for a washcloth and a bar of soap. He worked slowly, carefully, dipping the cloth into the steaming water and bringing it to her shoulder. She flinched at the first touch, her muscles tensing, her breath quickening. But she didn't pull away.
"It's okay," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Just let yourself feel it. It's just warm water and soap.Nothing else."
He traced the cloth over her skin, washing away the grime and the dried blood and the residue of years. He moved in slow circles, working his way down her arms, over her hands, her fingers. He washed her back, her shoulders, the delicate curve of her spine. She began to relax, her muscles loosening, her breath evening out, her eyes drifting closed.
"Fuck," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I don't remember the last time someone touched me like this. Like I was... like I was human."
"You are," Dave said, the words rough in his throat. "You're human, and you're here, and you're safe." He dipped the cloth into the water again, bringing it to her chest, tracing the line of her collarbone, the swell of her breast. She didn't flinch this time. Instead, she leaned into his touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
He washed her belly, her hips, her thighs. He lifted her foot, washing the soles, the spaces between her toes. She watched him with half-lidded eyes, her gaze softening, the wariness slowly bleeding away.
"Your hands are so gentle," she said, almost to herself. "I didn't think men like you existed."
"Men like me?"
"Men who could kill a man without hesitation, and then turn around and wash a woman's feet like she's a queen."
Dave's jaw tightened. "You deserve to be treated like a queen. After what you've endured, you deserve the whole goddamn galaxy."
Jane's eyes glistened. She reached out, her wet hand coming to rest on his cheek, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "Make love to me," she said, her voice soft but firm. "Not the way we did before. That was... that was me trying to feel something.Anything. This time, I want to feel everything."
Dave's breath caught. He set down the washcloth, his hands dripping water, his heart pounding in his chest."Are you sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life." She rose from the water, standing before him, dripping and steaming, her skin pink from the heat. "I want you to take me to your bed and make me forget every hand that's ever touched me without my permission. I want you to touch me the way I was meant to be touched."
He didn't speak. He rose to his feet, catching her around the waist, lifting her out of the tub. She wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck, her mouth finding his in a kiss that was slow and deep and devastating. He carried her to the bedroom, laying her down on the bed with a gentleness that belied the hunger building in his gut.
He stood over her for a moment, drinking her in. She was slick with water, her hair dark and wet against the pillow, her skin gleaming in the soft light from the viewport. She was beautiful, and she was his, if only for this moment.
"What are you waiting for?" she whispered, her voice a low, throaty murmur. "I'm not going to break."
He stripped off his boots, his pants, his shirt. She watched him, her eyes traveling over his body with an appreciation that made his skin prickle. He was older, weathered, carrying the scars of his own battles—a long, pale line across his ribs from a knife fight on a forgotten colony, a starburst of shrapnel scars on his shoulder from an IED that had almost taken his arm. She reached out, her fingers tracing the largest scar on his chest.
"Tell me," she said.
"Afghanistan," he said. "A lifetime ago."
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the scar, a soft, lingering kiss that sent a shiver down his spine. Then she lay back, spreading her legs, inviting him in.
He settled between her thighs, his body covering hers, his weight supported on his forearms. He kissed her slowly, deeply, his tongue tangling with hers, his hands cupping her face, her throat, her shoulders. She melted into him, her hands roaming his back, his shoulders, his ass, pulling him closer, wanting more.
His mouth trailed down her body, leaving a path of fire in its wake. He took her nipple in his mouth, suckling gently, rolling the hard bud between his teeth. She gasped, her back arching, her fingers threading through his hair. He moved lower, kissing her belly, her hip, the inside of her thigh. She trembled beneath him, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"Dave," she whispered, a plea, a prayer. "Please."
He settled between her legs, his mouth finding the slick heat of her cunt. She cried out, her hips bucking against his face, her hands fisting in the sheets. He licked her slowly, deliberately, savoring the taste of her, the way she gasped and moaned and writhed beneath him. He found her clit and sucked it gently, steadily, his fingers slipping inside her, curling, stroking.
"Oh, fuck," she gasped, her voice cracking. "Oh, God, yes, don't stop, don't stop—"
He didn't stop. He kept going, licking and sucking and fingering her with a methodical rhythm that brought her closer and closer to the edge. She was close—he could feel it in the way her thighs trembled against his head, the way her breath came in ragged gasps, the way her body clenched around his fingers.
"Come for me," he said, his voice muffled against her flesh. "Let go, Jane. Let go."
She did. She came with a raw, guttural cry, her body arching off the bed, her inner walls clenching around his fingers in waves of ecstasy. He stayed with her through it, gentling her with soft kisses and strokes until she collapsed, boneless and trembling, her breath coming in ragged sobs.
He crawled up her body, his cock hard and aching, pressing against her wet thigh. She looked up at him, her eyes glassy, her lips parted, a sheen of sweat on her skin.
"Fuck me," she whispered. "Please, Dave. I need you inside me. I need to feel you in my cunt."
He didn't need any more encouragement. He positioned himself at her entrance, his eyes locked on hers, and pushed inside her with a long, slow, inexorable thrust. She gasped, her eyes fluttering closed, her fingernails digging into his shoulders.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough. "I want you to see me.When you come, I want to be the last thing you see."
She opened her eyes, fixing him with a gaze that was raw and open and terrified and trusting. He began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that drew out every sensation, every heartbeat. He watched her face, the way her lips parted, the way her eyes glazed over, the way her body responded to his.
"Fuck," she breathed. "You feel so good. So goddamn good."
He growled, driving deeper, faster, his hips slapping against hers. She cried out, her legs wrapping around his waist, her heels digging into his ass, pulling him deeper, wanting more. He gave her everything he had, a raw and primal need that consumed them both.
"I can feel you," she gasped, her eyes wide, her mouth open. "I can feel your cock in my cunt, so deep, so good—"
He cut her off with a kiss, his tongue plunging into her mouth as his cock plunged into her cunt. She moaned against his lips, her body shuddering with another release, her inner walls milking him with a desperate intensity. He followed her over the edge, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he spilled himself inside her, his body shuddering with the force of his release.
He collapsed on top of her, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his breath ragged and hot against her ear. She lay beneath him, her hands stroking his back, her legs still wrapped around him.
"Don't go," she whispered. "Not yet."
"I'm not going anywhere," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm never going anywhere."
He rolled onto his side, pulling her with him, keeping her cradled against his chest. She curled into him, her head tucked beneath his chin, her body soft and warm against his. They lay like that for a long time, the only sound their breathing, the hum of the station, the distant sigh of the stars.
"Dave," she said finally, her voice quiet."Hmm?"
"I want you to find them. The men who took me. The men who bought me. The men who ran the network." She paused, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "I want you to burn it all to the ground."
He was silent for a moment, his jaw tight, his heart pounding. He turned her face up to his, his hand cradling her cheek.
"I made you a promise," he said. "I meant every word. I'm going to find them, and I'm going to make them pay for what they did to you. For what they did to all the others." He pressed his forehead to hers. "And I'm not going to do it alone. You're going to be by my side when it happens."
Jane's eyes glistened, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "How do you know I'm strong enough?"
"Because you're still here," he said. "Because you survived. Because you fought your way out of hell and you're still breathing. You're the strongest person I've ever met, Jane. And together, we're going to take them all down."
She kissed him, a soft, lingering kiss that tasted of tears and hope. Then she pulled back, her eyes burning with a fierce new light.
"Then let's get started."
The morning light came hard and cold through the viewport, a stark white glare that cut across the bed like a blade. Jane was already awake, her eyes open, her body still curled against his. She didn't move when he stirred, just lay there, watching the stars drift past with an expression he couldn't quite read. He studied the line of her jaw, the way her throat worked when she swallowed, the slow rhythm of her breath. She looked less fragile in the daylight, more like a woman who had survived something terrible and was still deciding what to do with the rest of her life.
"You're staring," she said, not turning to look at him.
"Can't help it." He reached out, brushing a strand of chestnut hair from her face. "You're worth staring at."
She turned then, her eyes meeting his with a flicker of something warm beneath the wariness. "Flatterer."
"Just honest."
She sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist, her skin pale and marked with the fading evidence of their night together. Bruises on her hips where his hands had gripped her, a faint redness on her lips from the roughness of his kiss. She didn't seem bothered by them. She seemed to wear them like a badge of honor, proof that she could still feel, still want, still be wanted.
"I need to tell you things," she said, her voice quiet. "About the network. About how it works. About the people who run it."
Dave sat up beside her, his back against the headboard, his eyes fixed on her face. "I'm listening."
She was silent for a long moment, her gaze drifting to the viewport, to the endless black beyond. When she spoke, her voice was flat and distant, like she was reading from a report she'd memorized years ago and was only now reciting aloud.
"Venus Colony was just the starting point. The outer settlements, the mining colonies, the agricultural hubs—they're all hunting grounds. Women disappear from those places all the time, and no one reports it because no one cares. They're just workers, just numbers, just bodies to be used and discarded."
Dave's jaw tightened. He'd seen it before, the way the outer colonies were treated by the inner worlds, the way their people were treated as expendable. It was a story as old as humanity itself, repeated across the stars.
"The man you killed last night, Webb, he was just a middleman. A coordinator. He handled the logistics, the transportation, the initial processing. But the people above him—the ones who buy and sell on a larger scale—they're untouchable. They have money, power, connections that reach all the way to the core worlds."
"Names," Dave said. "I need names."
Jane shook her head. "It's not that simple. They use layers of anonymity, shell corporations, encrypted communications. I never saw their faces, only heard their voices through a filter, their orders relayed through intermediaries like Webb." She paused, her hands twisting in the sheet. "But I know places. I know routes. I know the safe houses where they keep the women before they're sold."
"How do you know all this?"
"Because I was kept in one of those safe houses for six months before I was bought." Her voice cracked slightly. "I spent every day watching, listening, learning. I memorized the layout, the schedules, the names of the guards who watched over us. I knew that if I ever got out, I'd need to come back with the information to destroy them."
Dave reached out, taking her hand in his. "You're going to help me do that. We're going to do it together. But first, I need to get you somewhere safe. Somewhere they can't find you."
"There is no somewhere safe," Jane said, her voice bitter. "They have eyes everywhere. They have people on every station, every colony, every major trade route. I could change my identity, dye my hair, undergo surgery, and they'd still find me eventually."
Dave's grip tightened on her hand. "Then we don't hide. We go on the offensive. We hit them where they live, and we hit them hard enough that they won't have time to come looking for you."
Jane turned to him, her eyes searching his face. "You don't know what you're asking. These people are monsters. They don't think like you and me. They don't feel fear or pity or remorse. They'll kill anyone who gets in their way, including you."
"I've dealt with monsters before."
"Not like these."
Dave leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. "I don't care who they are or what they've done. I made you a promise, and I'm going to keep it. We're going to burn this network to the ground, and we're going to do it together."
Jane was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Okay."
He kissed her, a soft and tender pressure that started slow, then deepened into something hungrier. Her lips parted, her tongue finding his, and he pulled her closer, his hands sliding through her tangled hair. She made a small noise in her throat, a sound that was equal parts pleasure and desperation, and he felt the heat ratchet up between them like a furnace kicking on. He had been ready to wait, ready to give her time, but she was pulling him down onto the bed with her, her body arching against his, her mouth never leaving his.
"Again," she breathed, her voice raw and needy. "I need you again. Right now. I need you to fuck me until I can't think, until I can't remember anything but the way you feel inside me."
He didn't hesitate. He rolled her onto her back, his body covering hers, his cock already hard, already pressing against her thigh. She reached down, wrapping her fingers around him, guiding him to her entrance. He pushed inside her in one smooth motion, and she cried out, her back arching, her nails raking down his back.
"Yes," she hissed. "Fucking yes. Don't you dare stop."
He didn't stop. He drove into her hard and fast, a rhythm born of desperation and need and something deeper that he didn't want to name. She met him thrust for thrust, her hips rising to meet his, her body slick with sweat, her breath coming in ragged curses.
"Look at me," he demanded, his voice gravel and fire. "I want to see your eyes when you come."
She opened her eyes, fixing him with a gaze that was fierce and raw and utterly open. He could feel her tightening around him, could feel the trembling in her thighs, the way her body was coiling for release. He reached down, his thumb finding her clit, rubbing in tight circles, pushing her over the edge.
She came with a scream, her body convulsing around him, her inner walls milking his cock with a desperate intensity. He followed her into that release, his own orgasm ripping through him like a shockwave, his seed spilling deep inside her as he buried his face in her throat.
They lay there afterward, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, their breath ragged and harsh. Jane's hand came up to stroke his hair, her touch gentle, almost reverent.
"You make me feel like I'm not broken," she whispered. "When I'm with you, I can forget everything else. I can forget the fear, the pain, the shame. I can just be here, in this moment, with you."
Dave lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers. "You're not broken, Jane. You're the strongest person I've ever met. The things you've survived, the things you've endured, and you're still here.Still fighting. That's not broken. That's miraculous."
A tear slipped down her cheek. "I don't know if I believe you. But I want to try."
He kissed her forehead, a tender, lingering pressure. "That's all I'm asking. Just try."
They lay together as the station hummed around them, the viewport showing the slow drift of stars, the endless void beyond the glass. Jane's hand rested on his chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, memorizing the geography of his body. He held her close, his heartbeat steady against her palm, grounding both of them in the fragile peace of the moment.
"I need to get to a terminal," Jane said finally, her voice quiet but firm. "I need to show you what I know. The routes, the safe houses, the patterns of movement. I've been holding all of it in my head for years, and I'm afraid if I don't get it out, I'll start forgetting. I'll lose the only weapon I have left."
Dave sat up, his hand still resting on her thigh. "There's a secured terminal in my office. Fully encrypted, no access from outside the station without my biometrics. It's the safest place on this godforsaken rock."
She nodded, already moving, pulling on his shirt from where it had fallen on the floor. It swallowed her, the hem falling to mid-thigh, the fabric carrying his scent. She looked at him with something like wonder, like she was seeing him for the first time.
"Promise me something," she said."Anything."
"When this is over, when the network is in ashes and the people who did this to me are dead or in chains, promise me you'll stay. Promise me you won't just leave me to figure out how to be a person again on my own."
Dave crossed the room, taking her face in his hands. "I promise, Jane. I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me for as long as you want me."
She smiled—a real smile, the first he'd seen on her face. It transformed her, softening the hard edges, making her look like the woman she might have been before all this darkness. "Good," she said. "Then let's get to work."
He dressed quickly, his uniform a familiar weight on his shoulders, his sidearm a comfort at his hip. Jane pulled on a pair of his trousers, rolling the cuffs to keep from tripping, and they left the quarters together, stepping into the corridor and the buzz of the station beyond.
The Aurora Wing was quiet, its residents asleep or still drinking or lost in the endless cycle of games and sex and all the other vices the station peddled. They walked in silence, Jane's hand in his, her steps steady despite the uncertainty ahead. The lift took them down to the security level, the doors opening onto a corridor that was all brushed steel and humming electronics.
His office was at the end of the hall, a glass-walled box with a view of the station's main thoroughfare. The terminal dominated the desk, a sleek slab of black glass and chrome that hummed to life at his touch. Jane settled into the chair, her hands hovering over the keys, her throat working as she swallowed a sudden surge of anxiety.
"Just take it slow," Dave said, standing behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. "We have time. There's no one coming for us here."
She nodded, her fingers finding their place, and began to type. The screen filled with coordinates, with routes and stars and notes, a map of hell that she'd carried inside her for three years. Dave watched over her shoulder, his cold fury growing with each new piece of the puzzle, each new name, each new location where women had been bought and sold and broken.
Most of it was encoded. Marked in private shorthand she used to remember where they kept the women. She passed over one, hesitated, and moved on.
He caught it."What's that?"
She was silent for a moment, her jaw tight. "A station in the Kuiper Belt. The Cerberus Hub. It's where they hold the auctions. The big ones, the ones where the buyers come from the core worlds, the ones with the real money, the real power."
Dave's blood ran cold. He'd heard whispers of the Cerberus Hub, rumors of a black market operation so deep, so dark, that even the cartels and syndicates kept their distance. "You've been there?"
She nodded, a single, jerky motion."More than once. It's where I was taken after my first sale didn't go through."She paused. "It's where they keep the ones they're going to break a second time, the ones who tried to run. They use branded girls for leverage."
She pulled the collar of the shirt down, then, revealing a small, angular brand behind her collarbone—a geometric shape, like a barcode that had been seared into her flesh. "It's their mark. It marks what I am, what I've always been to them."
Dave's jaw tightened, rage and understanding locking his muscles. He lifted his thumb to the brand and traced it gently. "We're going to burn that place to the ground. I'm going to take that symbol and shove it down the throat of every man who walks out of that station."
She looked back up at him, a glint in her eye, a fierce, smoking anger. "Then we'll need more than this." She gestured to the soft, black screen. "We'll need a plan, and we'll need a way in."