The doors to the medical bay slid shut behind Shae.
She had made it exactly twenty-three steps down the corridor before a familiar voice stopped her.
“Well, look who it is.” Shae closed her eyes.
Slowly.
Patiently.
Then she exhaled.
“Oh no.” When she opened her eyes again, the crewman from the mess hall was standing at the far end of a narrow maintenance corridor.
And he wasn’t alone.
Two other men stood beside him.
Of course they did.
Because apparently one bad decision wasn’t enough.
Shae glanced toward the ceiling.
“As much as I’d love to spend my afternoon doing this,” she said dryly, “I just got out of medical and I’m really not in the mood.” The crewman stepped forward.
His bruised pride seemed to be hurting considerably more than anything she’d done to him physically.
“You embarrassed me.” “Pretty sure you handled that yourself.” His jaw tightened.
The two men beside him shifted slightly.
Trying to look intimidating.
Failing.
“Everyone saw it.” “Yes.” “You made me look weak.” Shae nodded thoughtfully.
“I can see how that would be upsetting.” The man pointed at her.
“Now I’m going to teach you some proper etiquette.” Shae stared at him.
Then at his friends.
Then back at him.
For a long moment she said nothing.
Finally— “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” The man scoffed.
Then swung.
Shae moved before the punch was halfway to her face.
She slipped to the outside effortlessly.
The fist cut through empty air.
At the same time she drove a sharp knee upward into his midsection.
The impact folded him immediately.
Air exploded from his lungs.
Before he could recover, Shae pivoted.
The second man was already moving.
She kicked the outside of his knee.
Not enough to seriously injure him.
Just enough to disrupt his balance.
His leg buckled.
He stumbled sideways.
The third man lunged.
A wild punch.
Telegraphed from a mile away.
Shae ducked beneath it.
Stepped inside his guard.
Then drove a palm strike upward beneath his chin.
The man’s eyes rolled back.
His body went limp.
He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
Three seconds.
Maybe four.
Unfortunately, the first two recovered faster than expected.
The second man wrapped his arms around Shae from behind.
Using his weight to drive her backward.
Her shoulder blades slammed into the wall.
Hard.
The impact echoed through the corridor.
The fresh stitches in her side immediately protested.
Shae grimaced.
Then drove both elbows backward.
Once.
Twice.
The strikes landed high across his ribs and upper torso.
The man grunted.
His grip loosened.
Shae twisted free.
The first crewman had recovered enough to make one final terrible decision.
As Shae stepped away from the wall, he lashed out with a kick.
She partially turned— But not enough.
His boot connected directly with her injured side.
Right where Cassandra had stitched the wound closed.
For a fraction of a second the corridor went still.
Shae felt it immediately.
The tearing sensation.
The warmth spreading beneath the bandages.
The sudden sting.
She looked down.
Then clicked her tongue.
“Tsk.” The sound somehow carried more disappointment than pain.
The crewman immediately realized what he’d done.
Unfortunately for him, he was still standing within reach.
Shae moved.
A quick sweep took his legs out from under him.
He hit the deck.
Before he could recover, Shae followed him down.
One controlled strike.
Lights out.
The man went completely still.
Unconscious.
Silence settled over the corridor.
The remaining crewman looked from his unconscious friends… To Shae… To the unconscious friends again.
Then he saw Shae take a step toward him.
Just one step.
Nothing threatening.
Nothing dramatic.
But apparently it was enough.
His eyes widened.
“Nope.” Then he turned and ran.
Immediately.
Without dignity.
Without hesitation.
Without looking back.
Shae watched him disappear around the corner.
Then sighed.
“Probably the smart one.” The adrenaline began fading.
Which meant she could finally pay attention to the throbbing pain in her side.
Reluctantly, she looked down.
The bandage was already turning red.
A growing stain spreading across the fabric.
She closed her eyes.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Because she knew exactly what this meant.
She knew exactly who had warned her.
And she knew exactly what that person had said.
“If those stitches tear, there will be consequences.” Shae groaned.
A long suffering groan.
Then rested her forehead briefly against the wall.
“Oh…” She looked at the blood.
Then toward the direction of medical.
Then back at the blood.
Then toward medical again.
There was absolutely no way she was getting out of this.
Not a chance.
Not after the very specific conversation she’d had less than fifteen minutes ago.
Shae sighed dramatically.
“I’m going to be in so much trouble.” And somehow, that realization worried her more than the wound.