Alec was not, by nature, a man who particuarly enjoyed crawling through shrubbery.

He’d been to garden parties before, of course. There wasn’t a man of his social set that hadn’t. Before he’d joined the fleet, and on trips back home he’d sipped champagne on manicured lawns while he made small talk with dowagers, and dodged his fair share of ambitious debutantes. Once, he’d even been cornered by an elderly viscount who’d wanted to discuss the breeding habits of ornamental koi for forty-five minutes. But he had to say that he’d never once had to fight his way through a rhododendron bush while dressed in formal evening wear.

“Remind me why we couldn’t just walk in through the front door?” He gritted his teeth as he yanked his arm free from a branch that was getting all up close and personal with his sleeve.

“Because if we’re announced, then Veyr knows we’re here before we find him.” Buck glanced back at him, hiking up the skirts of her red ballgown. The rhododendron seemed to be leaving her alone. Sensible plants, he wouldn’t want to mess with Buck when she had that look in her eye either. “And I’d rather not give an unpredictable reality-displaced war veteran a head start.”

He sighed, trying not to ogle her in that bloody dress. He’d wanted to see her in a gown like that for what felt like forever, only as soon as he had, all he’d wanted to do was lock the door and make sure no one else saw her in it. Correction, no other man. When the hell had he turned into a chest-thumping bloody caveman? “I’m just saying, these trousers are on the snug side for hiking through the wilderness.”

“Hush. Both of you,” Savage hissed at them. “Sound carries.”

Alec shut up quickly, sliding a glance at the commander. He still wasn’t sure what to make of her. She’d refused point-blank to wear a ballgown and had donned a black evening coat, black shirt and tailored trousers.

The whole outfit was similar to his, and he knew he looked good… he always had in formal wear. But where he wore his clothes, on the commander the same black on black outfit looked less like clothing and more like a second skin. And that wasn’t the worst part of it. The commander moved through the gardens without so much as a snapped twig or crushed leaf underfoot while he crashed through it like a bull through a china shop.

”What do you hear, Sav?” Buck murmured, her skirts swishing as she crouched next to the smaller woman. Alec crouched next to them trying not to feel like a bumbling fool next to the two women.

“Everything.” Commander Savage slid them a sideways glance, the soft lanterns of the garden catching her eyes, the three coloured rings marking her as not human.

Not entirely.

He knew what she was. Ract’l. Or half-Ract’l, at least. A creature… no, a predator vicious enough to take on a Gorn and win.

Most of the time she walked and talked human but now? She’d dropped the human mask enough that his survival instincts were making compelling arguments for keeping a hedge between them at all times. Or several hedges. Yeah, several hedges would be better.

“Let’s keeping moving and find a way into this shindig.” Buck waved them on and they skirted along the edge of a long lawn, keeping in the deep shadows of a hedge. Alec shook his head. A full formal garden on a ship, he’d seen it all now.

They were rounding a marble fountain when Buck lifted her hand, a frown across her brow. He stopped so quickly that he nearly ran into the back of her, his hand on her waist to avoid falling over her. Tilting his head, he listened as well.

Voices filtered through the air from somewhere ahead of them. They were male, and filled with laughter. The ugly kind that said they weren’t laughing with someone, but at someone.

“—father’s dying, isn’t he? Which means you’ll need a husband. Lucky for you, here we are.”

Alec edged forward beside Buck, peering through the hedge.

There were four men in a small courtyard, surrounding a young woman in a pale blue gown, her dark hair piled on top of her head threaded through with diamonds. Real ones, he noted. When you’d seen enough of them at things like this it was easy to spot the real thing.

“I’d rather be shot,” she said, glaring at the men around her.

The leader was tall and dark-haired, handsome but with a smile that said he knew it. “That can be arranged.”

“Yeah? Says who?”

Buck stepped out from behind the hedge. Alec grabbed at her to stop her but she slipped through his grasp.

Oh shit, these odds were so not good.

He followed Buck, standing on her left while Commander Savage materialised on the other side. The four men turned in surprise and the leader of the little group curled his lip in dismissal.

“Private conversation. Walk away, and I’ll forget you interrupted.”

Buck ignored him, folding her arms over her chest. “The lady’s not interested. Find someone else to bother.”

“You don’t know who I am.”

“And you don’t know who I am.” Buck smiled. Alec knew that smile. He’d seen it in sickbay, just before she’d stopped her knuckles a hair’s breadth from his chin and reset his entire understanding of what she was capable of. “Which means, as far as you’re concerned, I could be absolutely nobody. Or I could be the woman who ruins your entire evening. That all depends.”

The leader stared at her, his jaw working. Alec shifted his weight subtly.

The man jerked his chin and one of his buddies lunged at Buck.

Who didn’t even break stride. Instead, she bunched her fists and snapped out a straight-armed punch right into his nose. Her attacker rocked back on his heels for a moment, a stunned look on his face, then slowly keeled over backward.

The second came at Alec so he didn’t see the first one fall. The rake telegraphed his punch like a man who’d never been hit properly in his life. Alec ducked the blow, planted his feet, and put his fist through the gap. Not anywhere near as slick or as polished as Buck’s moves, but it was a clean, efficient hit. The guy’s eyes rolled back before he hit the flagstones.

The third was stupid enough to bring a knife to a fistfight.

Commander Savage moved.

Alec didn’t even see what she did. One moment the knife was in the goon’s hand. The next, it was skittering across the flagstones and the man was screaming, clutching a wrist bent at an angle that made all Alec’s medical training wince in sympathy. Savage released him and he crumpled, sobbing.

Three seconds. Three men down.

Good Lord, she was fast. Faster even than Buck.

The leader’s composure cracked and he fumbled inside his jacket. When his hand emerged, he held a weapon… it was small, black, stub-nosed. Alec’s eyes widened. Bloody hell, that was an actual gun. Alec had seen them in museums, and in historical holoprograms but never in person. And certainly never pointed at anyone.

The man grabbed the young woman in blue, yanking her against his chest as he pressed the gun to the side of her head. “Stay back!” He hissed. “All of you, stay back or I swear I’ll—”

“Easy.” Buck put her hands up, palms out. Her voice was calm and professional, as always. “Nobody needs to get hurt here.”

“She’s mine.” The man spat, face red and spittle flying. “The dukedom, the battlegroup… it’s all mine. I’ve planned this for months, and I am not letting some jumped-up little nobody in a red dress take it from me.”

“Some jumped-up little nobody.” Buck tilted her head, a careful look on her face that would have anyone who actually knew her running like hell the other way. “Huh, is that what you think I am?”

The red-faced bully snorted, his gaze darting between the three of them like he thought there was a way out of this. Alec bit back his smile. No way, no how.

“Yeah, I think you’re a captain who bought her commission and her title with daddy’s money, and you’re way out of your depth.”

“Captain Isabella Buchanan, Viscountess Netherton. My husband here is the Viscount.” Buck’s voice was an icy whip as she introduced herself, then waved an elegant hand toward Alec. Even though he knew it was an act, the words still sent warm and fuzzies through his chest.

Taking a half-step forward, her voice dropped dangerously. “And my commission? I earned it. In wars you won’t even read about in your history books. So believe me when I tell you… you are outmatched, outclassed and outnumbered. Your men are down, and if you hurt that girl, you will not walk off this terrace alive. That’s not a threat. That’s a promise.”

The man’s eyes darted and for a fraction of a second, the gun wavered. And that was when the girl in blue took her chance.

Grabbing the barrel, she twisted it away from her head and drove her elbow back into her captors ribs in the same motion. It was a solid move, executed cleanly.

Definitely academy training, Alec recognised, impressed despite himself. He wouldn’t have guessed the girl had it in her. But the gun was now in her hand, and her expression was steely as she stepped back to level it at the bully’s head with both hands.

“Now,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “I believe we were discussing my marriage prospects.”

The man stared at her, then at the gun. With a snarl, he lunged at her.

Alec launched himself forward at the same time as Buck and the commander, but it was all over in a matter of seconds.

The attacker’s hand closed over the girl in blue’s, and they wrestled for the gun. She fought him, but he had reach and weight on her, and the gun swung wildly between them.

The terrace doors crashed open, a large figure stepping through them.

“Perenton, if you lay one finger on her, then so help me—“

The bully’s head snapped toward the sound of the voice, his finger finding the trigger.

Boom.

The sound of the gunshot was louder than Alec expected and sharper. It echoed off the stone and died against the ballroom doors, swallowed by the heavy wood and the music beyond.

The girl wrenched the gun free and stepped back, covering the newly-named Perenton. She was fine.

But the man in the doorway was not.

He was tall, with deep red hair and beard, dressed in the formal attire of a duke… white cravat, dark coat, the kind of tailoring that cost more than most people made in a year. He stopped, frowning as he looked down at his chest. Blood was already spreading, the dark stain blooming across the white linen. His expression was more surprised than pained.

“Well, bollocks,” he said as he staggered back, slid down the doorframe and hit the flagstones.