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out.”
    She suppressed a grimace. He knew her too well. She’d never get off the Obsidian with him supervising her imprisonment. But she would try. She and all the other Caruth-trained anomalies didn’t know how to give up.
    “They’ll come in if I drop you.”
    His laugh was short, mocking. “You’re good, but I know all your moves. You’ll never be able to take me hand to hand.”
    Ash refused to acknowledge the truth in those words. Trevast had told her to fight. The order might have been shrouded in the confusion of his impending death, but she intended to carry it out. She wouldn’t let the stolen files destroy the Coalition she’d sworn to preserve and protect.
    She let Rykus approach even though it was foolish to let him get close. She landed a few punches, got one solid kick through his defenses, but he was too strong, too experienced to damage. He knew her weaknesses, knew she was limited in her moves by her restraints, and he was too damn perfect to make a mistake.
    He didn’t pound her face in like he could have—like he probably should have—but he slammed her to the floor and pinned her arms over her head.
    She stared defiantly into his eyes. “Congratulations, Commander.”
    “You think I enjoyed this?” he demanded. The way he held her wrists made her restraints dig into her raw and swollen skin.
    “You’ve been waiting for an excuse to take me down for years.”
    “Tell me what happened on that shuttle.”
    She shook her head. He shook her.
    “Tell me!”
    When she refused a second time, she expected to be jostled again, but his grip on her loosened, the anger whooshed out of him, and his body relaxed against hers. She realized a moment too late what would happen next.
    “ Did you execute your team ?”
    His tone and cadence were perfect. The loyalty training slithered through her body, and a familiar warmth surged in her bloodstream. Her veins felt foreign, like they were strings extracted from a puppet, and she had no choice but to speak the truth.
    But she couldn’t. Something else seized her—a different compulsion, a different command—and an indescribable panic settled in her chest.
    Ash couldn’t comply with both orders.
    She had to comply with both.
    Her vision blurred, and when she opened her mouth to tell Rykus she hadn’t killed her teammates, the only sound that came from her lips was a scream.

CHAPTER FIVE
    RYKUS RELEASED HIS cadet, arms raised as if he’d just blown his cover on an op, but as soon as he let go, Ash’s fingertips dug into her temples. He hovered at her side, stunned, until her screams faded and the seizure began.
    He gave her more space, his heart free-falling into his stomach. He hadn’t pressed an attack during the fight, only deflected her punches and kicks. Nothing looked broken, but her back arched and her arms flailed at her sides. When she slammed her head into the ground, then into the leg of the data-table, he gathered her into his arms.
    “Medic!” he shouted at the room, holding her tight. “Shh, Ash. It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. It’s okay.”
    Her tremors turned into trembles, tiny shudders that were vaguely familiar. He remembered holding her when she’d stumbled inside his office one cold night on Caruth. He had ordered her to sit outside and count stars. She’d been pressing her luck for too long and he’d finally had enough. While there were a million things he could have punished Ash for—her flippant speech, her lackadaisical attitude, her open flirtation with him—he’d lost his temper over the most simple, stupid transgression: her hair. She’d shown up late after a weekend leave, and her wavy locks, soft and shining in the artificial lights, had spilled over her shoulders.
    He should have ignored the infraction because, once he confronted her, she knew it was the perfect way to shatter his composure. She insisted on wearing her hair any way she liked. He insisted on her following regulation and braiding