There was a deep, pulsating, pounding in her head; it felt like it was going to explode. All she could hear was a loud ringing; as if it were from a distance, but close enough to make her want to scream. Even if she wanted to scream, her jaw felt too heavy to even think about opening it.

The taste of blood was strong; its iron flavor stinging her tongue. Sweat stuck onto her skin and held down the layer of ash that dotted across her body. When she lifted her hand, a sharp pain stretched from the side of her torso to down her legs. She breathed softly from her mouth and grimaced; breathing itself was now akin to stabs by knives. It took all of her might to throw her body upwards, but she, agonizingly so, managed to pull herself up and rest her weight onto her palms.

Alex opened her eyes.

All she could see was a thick cloud of smog around her. It was difficult to see just a few feet in front of her, and what she could see was debris on the ground. When she kneeled, she brought her hand to her face and felt dried blood from her nose. The blood from her nose had leaked onto her torn jumpsuit. And her neck her like hell. Alex turned her head to her side and saw two bodies.

Paxton and Melanie.

When she tried to move towards them, the sharp pain struck her body once more. She slammed to ground, landing next to her brother's face. He looked so calm, so unaware of their situation. Paxton's features were still, but, like her own, were messy with ash and blood. His arm was outstretched, it appeared he was trying to grab something. Alex, with a deep breath, kneeled again and shook his body.

"Pax…wake up…are you awake…get up," Alex said slowly, her voice low when she put her hands across him. She turned him on his back and put her hands on his shoulders, shaking him in an attempt to wake him up.

Alex's neck almost snapped when she spun her head around, hearing her mother coughing. Their eyes met each other. Melanie could barely keep her eyes open either from the ash that smothered her face or from her own exhaustion; probably both, Alex figured. They both looked at Paxton and then back at each other. Slowly, Melanie crawled into a fetal position and held her gut.

"Help," Melanie wheezed, her voice low and hoarse. "find…help." She wheezed again before slipping back into unconsciousness.

Even if she wanted to cry, nothing in her body produced any tears. She gave a slow nod to her mother. When Alex began to stand, she let out a weak shout. Her knees clicked together when she stood, and she had to balance herself by placing a shaking hand on a wall. She put her arm over mouth; the ash was making her choke.

After a quick glance at her family, she stepped forward. Her mind was solely focused on trying to find anyone, just anyone who could get her out of this ruined colony. As she stumbled through the alley, she felt sick when she saw the bodies of the dead slavers litter the ground. Her stomach turned to knots. She could feel her last meal rise in her body. Alex put her hands on her knees, vomiting on the ground.

She was careful not to step in the thick blood of the slavers. Blood leaked out from every exposed part of their armor, especially from their helmets. But how did they die? All Alex could recollect was a massive electrical shockwave springing at the slavers and knocking her back against the wall. Regardless of how it happened, it was difficult not to stare down at their corpses. It was a sickening, gruesome, repulsive, but fascinating sight to Alex. It was hard to resist the urge to stare at their charred armor, fried weapons, and burned faces.

Alex used the flashlight from her Omni-Tool to guide her way through the streets. It was nighttime on Proserpina, and in any other situation, the sky would be great to lie down on grass and stare at the stars. But she had to keep moving. She had to.

Besides her flashlight, the only source of light emitting from the colony was the fires burning down farmland, shops, and when Alex lifted her arm from her face to smell, probably bodies, too. She kept looking for a functioning terminal, just any working device that could communicate with the rest of the galaxy. But there was nothing, no electronics, no terminals, and no generators that weren't exploded. The Omni-Tool found no signals in the area. And detected no life.

Each time she saw a dead body—though more commonly bodies—which were not hidden under armor, she resisted the urge to scream and vomit again. That urge was strengthened whenever she saw a glimpse of what was once a child. Alex kept her energy focused on moving out of the colony. She had to.

Occasionally, a building would collapse in on itself and she would run to beat the debris cloud. When debris did block her way, she'd have to climb up parts of fallen buildings or hop onto upturned cars to continue her path. At some points she had to squeeze herself through walls of warped metal, though her slim figure helped her get through tight areas it didn't alleviate the very real thought that some blade or scrap of metal could fall and behead her.

She just wanted to get out of Proserpina. She never even liked it in the first place. Yes, she admired the quick ability of her fellow humans to build a colony, but she didn't care to go in person. The Terminus Systems never made her feel safe. All she wanted was to go back to the Citadel. She just wanted to go home.

In the distance, Alex heard voices.

She turned off her flashlight and hid behind a wrecked car. Alex kept her body pressed against the car and turned to hear the voices. Slowly, she moved to where she could catch sight of the slavers speaking to each other without being caught.

There was a little more than a dozen slavers, all of them donned heavy purple and black armor. In the middle of their chest was a pattern; from her studies, it reminded her of a turian insignia, but it had a gear circled around it. Even with that pattern, all the slavers weren't turians, most weren't. There was a mixture of turians and batarians, with several krogans and asari gathered around a fire.

One asari stood in the center of the group, looking down at a datapad, and appearing to take reports from each of the slavers around her. She wore lighter armor, but from the sheer size of the gun on her side it looked she could kill Alex before she could even think about returning fire.

"When do you think we're getting out of this place? I'm not excited for some Alliance cruiser to blow us up," One frustrated krogan said to the group.

"He's taking inventory. When he's finished counting up the viable slaves, we'll be set off this planet. The boss takes his time. You're new, so let's make something very clear," The asari stepped towards the krogan, pointing a finger in his face. "Whatever the boss orders, you listen. You're getting paid, right?"

"Well, uh, yes."

"Now, the boss doesn't take too kindly to people who don't follow orders. It's simple, really, if you want to get paid, you better keep your mouth shut and do as you're told."

"The pay is pretty nice…" The krogan told himself.

"And if you want to continue getting paid and treated better than any other group in the Terminus than you really shouldn't be talking that kind of shit when no is asking. Do your job, get paid, and when he needs for another mission, he'll tell us. Otherwise, stay quiet."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good," The asari curtly said as she checked her Omni-Tool. She looked over to a batarian working on a makeshift terminal. "Any ships coming our way?"

"No ma'am," The batarian quickly replied, his eyes focused onto the screen. "Managed to deactivate the distress beacons and put the backup systems offline…temporarily. It's the most I can do unless we physically destroy them ourselves. We have several hours before the Alliance is fully alerted. When the Alliance comes with their ships, they should only find those who managed to get away. We estimate that a few thousand remain, though more than half are accounted for and crossed off already."

That's…that's over 5,000 people. Alex griped the gun even harder. How are they doing this?

"Even if any of them managed to find a working device," Continued the batarian, "they can't connect to the extranet or access any emergency communications."

"Good. And what about Melanie Harbor and her children?"

What the hell do they want with my family?

"They are still in that alley untouched, per the orders from the top, ma'am. We have no reason to suspect any of them are to awaken anytime soon."

"Good. It's the utmost importance that we keep them alive. We cannot have anymore loose cannons like those died trying to kill them. The boss wants them alive."

"Do you know why, ma'am?" The other asari from the group asked. "Harbor is dangerous. With all due respect to you and him—and I did hear what you said just a few moments ago—should we let Harbor remain free? She killed three of our men with shots to the head, killed more in the alley with just her Omni-Tool. I think we should—"

"He has his reasons. What may be logical to you, may not be logical to him. There is a reason you work for him." She turned to face the entire group. "Does anyone else have any more objections? For some reason, after a successful operation, we have two who do not understand the chain of command. Anyone?" No one answered. "Exactly; I shouldn't even have to entertain this nonsense, especially from two new people." She sighed and spoke under her breath, "We really need to update our vetting process."

Alex grimaced. She had to fight the urge to mow down each of the slavers. All she wanted was to see them on the ground, dead, and bodies thrown into piles like what they did to the slaves—people—that didn't make it. Still, pressing in her mind, why were they were spared? Something is wrong here; I just know it.

She knew she couldn't get stuck in her emotions. Yes, she wanted them dead but knew her body would turn to a bullet sponge if she fought back. When she suppressed her anger, she began to think clearly again. They were going to be stuck here for hours, maybe even half a day until the Alliance could rescue them. If she could only get to that batarian's computer and activate a distress beacon she'd be set. But how?

"Keep at it," The asari said to the batarian, "The rest of you, meet up with the others at the ships. Move out." The asari gestured with her gun to another area and left with the other slavers.

Alex focused her attention on the single batarian. She leaned back against the car and took several quiet, deep breathes. She scanned the area and noticed a dead security guard on the ground. A pistol was near the dead man's hands. With a quick look back at the batarian, she crawled to the guard and snatched the gun.

Calmly, Alex stood up and held the gun between her fingers. She pointed the gun forwards. Whatever shakiness she had before, it was gone. Alex ignored the pain and exhaustion, instead she pressed on. There was only one thought in her mind:

Get out of Proserpina.

She stopped by the car and thought for a moment. It seemed stupid, but she felt like she was out of options and simply waiting wasn't going to save her mother and brother. Alex bit her lip, took in several deep breathes again, prayed to a god she didn't believe in, and remembered what her mother taught her.

Alex moved forwards and aimed her pistol.

"Put your hands up, batarian," Alex ordered. Her voice, even as weak and gravelly as she was, held confidence and power. The batarian visibly jumped. When he tried to reach for his sidearm, she didn't hesitate; Alex pulled the trigger.

BANG!

The batarian fell to the ground, clutching his knee in horrible pain.

"Don't even think about calling out," Alex moved quickly; her gun still pointed at the batarian and aimed it in the middle of his face. All four of his eyes were stuck on the barrel of the gun. There was no time for remorse in her mind. The fear etched into the alien's face only strengthened her resolve. "Reactivation code. Now."

The batarian inched his head upwards, as if he were trying to say something. His body was quaking. His mouth trembling faster than anything her paranoid brother could pull off. Alex kept a blank look on her face and an empty mind in her head. The batarian uttered something, but it was too quiet.

"Louder," She demanded. The batarian tried, but it wasn't successful. Alex slowly crouched down with her eyes locked on the slaver and fingers tightened around the trigger. "Again—"

The batarian lunged at her.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Alex fired aimlessly into the sky as the slaver moved on top of her. When she tried to slam the butt of the pistol into his head, he knocked it out of her hands. The pistol landed only a few yards away. Several punches landed in the human's face; her nose cracked and bled down. Alex grabbed the collar of his armor and slammed her head into the batarian. She did it twice more until the batarian held his head with pain. Alex smashed her fist into one the batarian's eyes and jumped up.

The batarian grabbed her ankle and threw her back to the ground.

"Stand down, you damn bitch!" The batarian grumbled as she fought his grip.

"Get…" Alex swung her foot around, moving around the slaver's arm. She looked at him straight in his eyes, sneering. Even though she didn't care for Proserpina, this wasn't his world. This wasn't his people to enslave. This wasn't his colony to pillage. This wasn't a fight he was going to win. She managed to get her foot under the batarian's jaw and swung upwards with all the energy she had left. "OFF!"

Several teeth flew out of the batarian's mouth as he slammed against the ground. Alex ran towards the pistol. She kept darting back to the batarian and saw him unmoving. When she got to the gun, she took in several more breathes. She could see her blood and sweat drip onto the ground. Each drip slowly grew in size. She wiped her bleeding nose with her arm and picked back up the pistol, and then turned around.

Her heart dropped.

Two dozen slavers pointed their rifles at her. The red dots from some of their laser-guided scopes pointed at her head. The lowly batarian pressed upwards, and with a smirk along his beaten face, pointed his gun at her. The slavers saw a tall, young human with a bloody lower face, messy and tangled hair, dirty and ripped clothes, a jaw dropped with eyes opened wide. All she did was stare aimlessly at the crowd of slavers.

The slavers ordered her gun to be throw against the ground.

I'm going to die.

The slavers ordered for her hands to be put in the air.

I'm going to die.

The slavers took her hands and tied them around her back.

We're all going to die.

Alex's mind was blank. She could barely think or get a thought across her scattered mind. Everything seemed like a blur to her. When they walked, they had to hold her from under each of her arms. The woman lost her energy, she had collapsed in their grip. They uttered dirty words to her, describing what they wanted to do to her body, but she stared at them blankly while they spoke.

When she looked around, there was only angry alien faces looking back at her who occasionally spat in her face. Gradually, Alex found her senses again and started to resist.

But it was too late.

There was silhouette of a large turian who stood in front of opened cargo bay doors at the back of a ship. Fellow slavers loaded in the bodies of unconscious humans into the cargo bay. Each human had an ankle bracelet on and a collar around their neck. The turian slaver stood with his hands on his hips, eyeing the human's every move. The other slavers, as they got near him, bowed their heads at him as if he were some kind of great military dictator or divine being; whatever it was, it made her want to run faster than anything humanly possible, but her muscles froze. Standing back from him, the other slavers looked to him without breaking.

Alex was then thrown in front of him, eating the dirt. After she stopped coughing and wheezing, she looked up and saw him staring back down at her. She started crawling backwards, each time she pulled herself away her grip got tighter in the dirt. Turning her head from side to side, she saw slavers at all directions pointing their guns at her.

There was no escape.

The turian put his hand up, and the other slavers took it to bring down their guns. She kept looking up at him, her face growing with horror as he started approaching her. His hulking frame made every step he took to be more of a stomp. When her hand slipped as she crawled, she briefly looked at her hand and didn't realize the turian had lunged at her.

The slaver brought Alex up into the air by wrapping one of his hands around her neck. He held Alex above his head, easily holding the 140-pound human without difficulty. Struggling to breathe, she gripped her hands around his large fingers, and she tried, desperately tried, without any success, to pry him off. When she kicked her legs, she got the resounding thud of heavy armor against her foot. It caused more pain to her than him, and that's if he had felt anything at all.

Alex gasped, feeling her face switch from her normal color to a bright, beating red. Sweat drained down from her forehead as the world grew dark. Her vision became blurred as Proserpina started getting dimmer. She then felt a sudden burst of energy where she furiously kicked her legs, fought her fading vision, and pushed her neck upwards for air.

She was thrown harshly back down to ground, coughing, and wheezing to breathe until she felt her hair long hair be yanked backwards. The turian crouched besides her, holding her hair in his fist and pointed his finger forwards. He brought his mouth to her ear and she could feel the stinging warmth from his breath.

"Look," He ordered. His voice was hushed but the deepness, the utter revulsion in his snarling tone forced her to look forwards. There was no point to ordering her around, she couldn't resist anything he did. A few feet away from them two slaver dropped the bodies of her family to the ground.

The slaver tossed her aside, walked towards Paxton and Melanie, and took out a pistol. The pistol he held was older, weathered, and was vaguely familiar. But right now she couldn't think of anything besides seeing her family sprawled across dirt with a slaver between them.

The slaver crouched next to Paxton, bringing a hand down his head and back. He studied Paxton as if he were some kind of prize; gently sliding one of his fingers down Paxton's face, he rolled some of Paxton's messy hair around his ear and brushed off the grime on his face. Just from the way the turian examined, analyzed, obsessed over her brother was disturbing in itself.

"STOP!" She screamed, but in her sorry state it was a slur of words from a person with blood in her mouth and dirt clogging her throat.

The slaver pressed the barrel of the gun into Paxton's neck.

Alex felt, for some odd reason that went beyond logic, to stand. It took her a moment to prepare her body to stand as she gripped the dirt, pushed her weight upwards with excruciating pain, and wobbled upwards. She thought she was standing, but she actually was hunched over, holding her stomach, and felt her knees clicking together. But she kept a glare across her face, staring back at the slaver. She had to.

She spit out blood and spoke in a broken, guttural voice, "Stop."

The turian dropped Paxton's head and, instead, stood over Melanie. He slammed the back of his foot into her back, forcing her body to roll over. He raised his foot and kept kicking into her already weakened torso. And as soon as he started beating on her mother, which had caused some of her blood to be stained on his foot, he stopped abruptly and stared at Alex.

She could only watch as he paced to her and his gun slam into the side of her head. Alex collapsed, holding her head with the pulsing pain once more. She could see spots forming in her vision; little blurry, black dots which made her fear that she'd go blind. When she held her head in horrific, pounding pain she could now feel blood coming down from gashes on her forehead.

"You…" Alex's speech at this point was slurred, she could barely muster up the strength to move her lips. Through the pain, and with the remaining adrenaline she had left, she continued to speak. "I know you won't kill me, or them," She clutched her stomach and spit out some blood onto his foot. "We're too useful to you…you can try to intimidate me, but you've got no power and nothing…nothing without the Harbors."

Alex suddenly rose in the air, though not from his tight grip, but from an even more powerful source. A warm, tingling feeling spread across her body as her arms and legs were reluctantly pulled to her sides. She rose until she matched with the turian's massive height. He was…glowing. Around his body was a chaotic, fire-like glow of a bluish-purple. His eyes shone the same color, only emphasizing his purple eyes. The turian, good God, was a biotic.

"You're in no position to order me what to do and assume you are of any use to me." He growled, angrily holding his stare at her. "Don't interfere with my men again unless…" He looked at her family and back at her, "I can always go another route."

The turian narrowed his eyes, tensed his muscles, and tightened his fist causing her to violently scream in a strained, high-pitched yelp. Her vision started flickering fast and could now only vaguely make out what she was hearing and seeing.

"…collect our casualties…Harbors back in alley… the source..."

Alex fought her impending unconsciousness, finding strength to regain vision. She saw, in a blurred sight, her family be thrown over the shoulders of the asari from earlier and a turian, and the main slaver in front of her still glaring. His face was dark and broken. From what she could make out in her state was that it was charred, as if it had been mauled or burned before, and it was missing some parts she couldn't make out. Regardless, he looked like a monster from a child's nightmare.

"Don't make this a habit, Alexandria."

The turian tightened his fist and it erupted into a flash of pulsating dark energy. He let it fester; it grew in his hand skillfully as he pulled his arm backwards. When he swung his arm forwards, his attack combined with the biotics around Alex's body, which flew her backwards and sent her crashing across a hard-concrete ground.

Makeup was a powerful tool.

The green bruising on her face was slowly covered up by the makeup she applied. Alex opened her small vial of concealer and rubbed it under her eyes, along her jaw, and when she got to her nose, she made sure to be gentle when applying it. The white cream on her face faded, dissolving into a color that matched her skin tone. With that, her bruises were hidden from the world. Only the person looking back at her in the mirror knew reality.

Reality.

It became a funny word to Alex in the past week. At times, she felt like she was slipping from the real world and back into Proserpina. When she did, Alex managed to hide herself in a bathroom and collect herself. However, her relief was only temporary When she tried to go back out into the real world and talk with others, they just kept asking and prodding and making her remember Proserpina. She was repeatedly asked how survived. She couldn't answer. The answer she gave was always that it was "too soon" but she truly didn't understand how.

Alex took her hairbrush and combed her hair.

Maybe she should take a cue from her brother and blend into the background. Maybe she shouldn't thrust herself back into the real world so quickly. Maybe this stupid election was just that—stupid. But there was too much at stake. The only way she could get Proserpina out of her head, was just focusing on what was already put into motion.

What else could she do? She couldn't curl into a ball and cry; it was both too painful to physically do so and impossible for her. Why bother with trying to look into it? What could she honestly do? Tell a C-Sec officer? Tell the Human Embassy? Hell, they're in so much of scramble without her mother managing it that warnings from the secretary-general's own daughter wouldn't even do much. If she just avoided being suckered into that whole mess again, she and her brother would be just fine.

And she couldn't let that damned Ataraxia win. Let alone a turian. This was her chance. No other human had the shot to become student director of Asha. Her people depended on it. Her career depended on it.

Alex took her eyeliner and started putting it on, emphasizing her intense, gray eyes.

She knew that small victories like becoming the first human student director of one of the most influential universities in the galaxy would only cement the growing power of humanity. Even if she lost, she would become deputy director. Regardless, her name would be broadcasted towards the galaxy and establish herself as a person of her own doing, and not of her riding off a last name. But Alex was in no mood to lose. She hated even having to think about the possibility to losing to Arcadius Ataraxia.

Alex took her crimson lipstick and drew a thick vertical line down the middle of her bottom lip.

That smug turian bastard. He would just love to flaunt his power in my face if he could. Alex couldn't stand that pesky, conniving turian. Every moment she had to be around him was a drag. But considering how much she is around Arcadius; some call them inseparable, but she says that's he a peer and respected opponent to others—and a fucking moron to herself.

Alex stared back at herself in the mirror and threw her long hair behind her.

Down the side of her body was even more bruising. Splotches stretched across her stomach, up near her breasts, and stopped before it touched her collarbones. She was sore as hell, and the gradual stretches she did each day wasn't doing much. On the dresser was a painkiller prescription and it became her new favorite part of her day to take her dosage; for a few hours, at least, the pain would be bearable.

After she changed out of yesterday's undergarments and into today's, she slipped on a high-collared, crimson sweater that matched her lipstick and tucked it into a black pencil skirt. She appeared free from Proserpina; it was as if it never touched her body. It was as if that slaver never touched her body. Or made it rise in the air.

And she loved it.

The further removed Proserpina was from her mind the better. All she could think about was how much she wanted to see the turian's face drop with shock when he lost the election. Now that would be cathartic.

"Ms. Harbor, you have an incoming call from Arcadius Ataraxia," The gentle voice of her computer's VI alerted her.

Wonderful.

"Computer—accept call, audio only."

"So, we're still meeting for lunch in an hour with the Matriarch, Alex?" Arcadius asked, his voice flat and dull.

"If it wasn't customary, then no," Alex said, matching his lack of enthusiasm. "I'll see you then. Computer—end call."

Before he could reply, she hung up.

Alex looked around her room. On the walls were numerous awards, accolades, and photos with of her various politicians and military officials ranging from heads of government from Earth to alien officials, from when she was a late teenager to recent times. All photos had her standing by her mother, but only few included her brother. A framed acceptance letter from Asha was near her bed, along with a flag with the emblem of Asha hung on her wall.

But there was only one photo which caught Alex's attention. In the photo two children, a young boy and girl, sat between an elderly man and woman. They had wide, toothy smiles across their face. She took the photo from the wall and sat at the edge of her bed, staring intently at the children. The children had their arms swung across the other's shoulder. The little boy's purple bandanna was comically large on his head and the little girl had two long pigtails. They, unlike herself and Arcadius, were actually inseparable.

"Ms. Harbor, you have an incoming call from your doctor from Chaya Medical Center, Dr—"

"Computer—accept call, audio only," Alex got up from the bed with a sigh and hung the photo back on the wall. "Hello?"

"Ms. Harbor, there's been an, albeit now resolved, event at Chaya." Dr. Santé said.

Alex jumped up and paced towards her desk, sitting herself in her chair. Her face morphed into confusion. "What," She stammered. "What do you mean? Is my mother alright?"

"There was a large power outage at the entire facility last night for a minute. Fortunately, your mother and no other patients were thankfully harmed or affected in any way."

"Don't you have backup generators for that very reason?" Alex's face flushed as she tightened her fist. "Isn't Chaya supposed to be one of the best hospitals on this station? Aren't there supposed to be a failsafe—multiple failsafe's— for when an event like that occurs? If Chaya isn't up to the task of performing basic life support to patients when the power goes out—if they can't keep her alive—I may need to remove my mother from your care, Doctor."

"I apologize on behalf of Chaya. I understand why you're upset," The doctor's voice was weaker than before. She just wanted to scream at him. "Ms. Harbor, the only…issue with what you're saying is that Chaya does have that equipment. I may lose my clearance for telling you this, but it needs to be said to someone." The doctor cleared his throat, his voice now a whisper, "But it wasn't just a simple power outage. That's what the facility is publicly saying."

"And privately?"

"It was a full-on attack on our systems. Something was powerful enough to disrupt and control our defenses. The attacker left without leaving a trace," Dr. Santé's voice was stricken with fear as Alex, alarmed, moved closer to the screen. The light hairs on her arms poked up from her skin. "C-Sec is investigating, but I'm just concerned what or who could wield this much power over a hospital on the Citadel! The Citadel!"

"Enough power to control a colony," Alex's voice was flat, but her heart was set to detonate in her chest and explode all over the walls. Sweat dripped down from her forehead. Her hands, and her body overall, was frozen. There was little movement in her body until she gradually turned her head back to the children in the photo.

"Yes, probably so, Ms. Harbor, I—"

Before he could reply, she hung up.

Alex got up from her chair and put her hands in her face. She paced around the room, walking back and forth with slow, deliberate steps.

She could feel her arms be grabbed by the slavers, the blood in her mouth, and the pinch of the turian's armored fingers on her face. She could see the bodies of her family before her and the gun pointing to Paxton's head. This couldn't be a coincidence. The very hospital where her and her family stayed at? The day her brother visited her mother. Now she felt like a fucking moron. The slaver warned that if she interfered—but she didn't.

Alex picked the photo off the wall and stared down at the boy in the photo. Someway, somehow, he knew about the slavers. He had to. And she was going to find out. She had to. She traced her finger down the boy's face and gripped the frame tighter.

If the slavers were going to force her hand by striking first on the Citadel—without any of interference from her—she had to fight back. Letting this fall by the wayside would be unavoidable, not to mention stupid and fatal. As much as she didn't want to play along to that slaver's games, as much as she wanted to press forward in her life and leave this behind her, as much as she wanted to not interfere with the slavers—she couldn't. If Alex and her family were of some sort of sick use to this turian, she no option but to resist being a tool for whatever he wanted.

Out from her dresser, she pulled out a hard, black case. When she pressed in a code on the side that her mother made her memorize and unclipped the case, it cracked open. Inside, staring back at her, was a gun.