Twenty-five
Ryann said she needed time to think, and Murdoch worked hard to suppress a smile. More than the disappointment she felt in herself for coming round to his ideas, she hated his pleasure in this.
He’d provided her with a room on the Hermes, a tiny space barely larger than the solitary bunk it contained, but at least it provided some privacy. Murdoch had one of his NeoGens escort her to this room, and when the door shut with a click that could only be a lock, she lay on the bunk, head resting on her hands and her eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling. She breathed deeply, and forced her body to relax.
But her mind wouldn’t stop.
So much bloodshed. So much death and pain. Yes, these NeoGens killed quickly—and there was a certain beauty in their efficiency and precision—but t
