*First Draft

"Jade, move away from the wanted murderer," Ethan says, condescension etched in his words.

"Don't hurt him," I plead as I wrap my arms tighter around Roman's body.

"Don't hurt him? You should be more worried about you. How close are you to him right now?"

Before I can answer, the deep rumble of Roman's voice startles me. "She has her arms around me. Her head is resting on my chest." He pauses and unease fills my belly. With a sultry rasp, he adds, "I can smell the floral shampoo in her hair."

My grip around Roman loosens and I look up at his stoney face. Why is he speaking to Ethan like this?

"So it speaks. Jade, get away from him now," Ethan commands, eyes still averted while pointing the rifle toward us.

"How does it feel that she wants to touch me, but not you?" Roman prods.

I don't understand. My stomach drops like a sinking ship and my head feels like it's stuck in the Cerisian sand, my mind no longer in my body.

"Shut the fuck up! Jade. Come. Now," Ethan barks.

I can't believe this is happening. I should move away from Roman, but I'm still afraid Ethan will beat him or shoot him.

"I..." I try to find my voice, but nothing comes out. I don't know what to do. Roman is acting strange and cold like he doesn't care about me at all.

We developed a friendship. Or, I thought we did.

"Why don't you come and get her? Never mind, you don't have the balls to get up close to me," Roman continues.

My heart is starting to race, my lungs...I'm panting.

My head is still resting on his chest, but I don't want to be there anymore.

"It's because you're a nasty fuck," Ethan sputters.

"Jade doesn't think so."

I didn't think so. But...

Ethan goes silent. While one hand holds the gun, his other hand starts pounding himself in the face. He lets out an animalistic scream before he lunges for me.

Instinctively, I curl into a ball, but Roman is lightning fast. He moves his legs and trips Ethan so he falls on top of him, his back collides forcefully into my face. Pain stings my nose, and I fling myself away as Roman wrestles him down with his legs. Ethan's breaths are coming out as high-pitched squeals, as he tries to flail away from his assailant. Roman has one leg pinning down Ethan's gun hand, and his other leg around his waist.

Gasping in panic, Ethan tries to pry the legs off of him with his free hand, but Roman doesn't budge.

Finally, Ethan's grip relents the gun and Roman manages to nudge it away, out of reach.

"Jade...gun," Ethan chokes out.

Tears are falling down my face. I should get the gun. I should.

Most people's response to high stress is fight or flight. Mine, apparently, is freeze and I hate myself for it.

Roman relaxes his hold and Ethan takes advantage by trying to squirm away. Roman must have anticipated that response because he swiftly readjusts his legs around Ethan's neck.

I should get the gun.

I'll grab it. Point it. Say, 'Let him go.'

And then I'll be transported to Hestia...

Oh, God...

He's killing him. My body won't move. Why can't I move?

Ethan is making gurgling sounds and that snaps me out of it. I can't just let him be murdered, no matter how big of an asshole he is. No matter how scared I am of the GSA.

Magna would say that my bleeding heart makes me weak, but it's who I am. I can't let him die.

I spring for the rifle. Bending down, I take the cold weapon into my trembling hands.

"Roman," my voice comes out barely audible. He doesn't hear me. His face is skewed in a murderous expression as he watches himself strangle his prey.

"Roman!" I try again, with more volume. He doesn't acknowledge me, as he continues his attack.

Pointing the gun unsteadily at him, I plead, "Stop. Please. Stop."

He doesn't stop.

Ethan goes limp. He's no longer moving, but Roman doesn't release his hold. "Roman. He's passed out. You can stop. We can handcuff him. Please."

I'm holding the gun. I could pull the trigger. I could save Ethan. But...I can't. I just can't.

"Roman..." His name comes out as a desperate plea.

He finally turns his head toward me, his face unreadable, his eyes look blacker somehow.

Recognition slowly transforms his features as he takes in my state. He releases his victim and stares silently at me, then his gaze goes to my hands.

I look down and realize I'm still pointing the gun at him.

Ethan is unmoving on the metal floor. The orange light illuminates his expressionless face. He looks like he is sleeping. Maybe he isn't dead.

Maybe Roman stopped in time.

My cheeks are wet from tears.

The weapon feels like acid in my trembling hands. Lowering it, I move to check on the lifeless body on the floor.

"Ethan," I whisper as I kneel next to him.

Shakily, I reach to check for a pulse. None.

Placing the gun on the floor, I straddle him and attempt CPR.

"Come on. Come back," I chant as my hands compress his chest.

My arms tire quickly, and...nothing happens. His pulse doesn't appear, his lungs don't magically start working.

I shouldn't give up yet. I could have done something before and I didn't.

In a trance, I continue. My arms push in and out. My muscles burn, but I ignore it. When I look down on Ethan's face--

I'm stunned.

His face is...different. It's covered in blood, and he's lying on dirt and roots instead of the metal floor. It isn't him.

I screech and throw myself away from him. What in the hell?

My heart is pounding out my ears. I draw in a deep breath and settle down.

Crawling, I approach the body. The bloody face is gone and he is Ethan again. The trauma of watching someone die is just messing with me.

And I could have saved him, but I didn't.

"Jade?"

I'm too close to his legs. Those murderous legs.

I need to get away.

My lungs start to close, the hair pricks up on my neck, and my whole body starts to shake.

Wheezing, I grab the gun and skitter to the opposite wall. Roman's presence is terrifying once more. He fooled me, used me.

"Jade."

Curling into myself, I ignore him. He isn't Roman, he's Repellent.

I can't stop thinking about his legs. This whole time I thought I was safe because Roman was handcuffed. He could have done this to me at any moment. Ethan told me Repellent was a murderer. It is one thing to be told, and something else entirely to be confronted with it.

"Can you look at me?" Did his voice crack? Or did I just imagine it?

I shake my head, tears nudge their way from my eyes. The rifle sits in my lap.

"How long have you been planning to do that?" I ask, my voice hoarse from the crying.

No response. His silence makes me want to scream. I deserve an answer. Fists clenched, I pound them into the floor.

"How long? How long have you planned on using me?"

There is a long pause and I hear his loud intake of breath.

"Since the day you washed my wounds."

My stomach clenches. I'm going to be sick.

"I'm an idiot." My stupid bleeding heart. "So what is your grand plan now? Beg me to uncuff you? Well, good luck with that. I don't think I can stand being next to you again." With that, I set the gun on the floor, rise to my feet, and race to the bathroom.

Frantically, I turn on the shower and strip off my clothes. I need to get clean and wash the death off of me.

The warm water assaults my face as I try to calm my emotions. Roman used me. He used my heart against me. Like Ethan.

Like-

Magna.

Leaning, I punch the shower wall.

I thought Roman and I had a connection. He melted when I touched him. I felt special and warm. His voice had turned my stomach in all kinds of knots and I wanted to spend every minute with him.

I'm so stupid.

What am I going to do? I can't leave him cuffed like that. Hand feed him again? Never.

What will he do to me when I let him loose? If he could murder a strong man like Ethan with just his legs, what could he do to me?

We are out in the middle of space. I can't call for help since the rescue crews are all part of the GSA.

I let the water trickle down my face for a moment. There are no good options.

Once I turn off the shower, I let the cold air embrace me. The chilling discomfort strengthens my resolve. Slowly, I find my towel, dry off, and get dressed. With a deep breath, I prepare myself for what awaits me outside the bathroom door.

A dead body and a killer, who I'm about to set free.