“It ain’t gonna happen,” Zoe said flatly. “You’re not going in there alone.”

Inara’s voice bristled with frustration. “Zoe, I’ve been there before. Atherton’s security system is practically invulnerable. And he has a large contingent of very well-trained man who act as bodyguards at his offices and his estate. He’s a man who’s made enough powerful enemies to know that he needs good protection. He won’t let you through. But he might just let me get through.”

“Yeah, he might,” Zoe agreed. “But if he does, what’s to say he won’t just do to you whatever he’s doin’ to the Captain?”

Inara took a deep, cleansing breath. “I don’t believe he will. But in either case, I’m not going to stand by and let Mal die without even trying to do something. So, unless you have a better plan, I’m going in.”

“But didn’t River say the Cap’n was somewheres isolated?” Kaylee asked. “How will going to his estate do any good if’n the Cap’n ain’t even there?”

“I can persuade him to take me to him,” Inara said with certainty. “I know I can.”

Silence fell around the table for a moment as the crew thought about the implications of such a statement. To everyone’s surprise, it was Jayne who supplied the plan. “If Moonbrain’s right and Mal is somewhere out in the countryside, and Inara can get the hundan to take her to him, we might have our way in.”

“I can’t imagine Wing would be stupid enough to let Inara see where she would be going,” Simon observed.

“She wouldn’t have to if’n we could rig up some way to track her. Then, she gets to Mal and we follow. Prolly won’t be a big group of men guardin’ the place if’n it’s in the middle of nowhere.”

“That’s a lot of ‘ifs’, Jayne,” Zoe replied grimly.

“Well, let me give you one more,” Inara said decisively. “If we don’t do something soon, Atherton will kill him. Count on it.”

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The small room was filled with the sound of Mal’s shallow breathing and the constant whir of the recording equipment. Wing’s men had left for the night, placing their bloody instruments on the table as they went. Wing himself had stayed longer, walking around Mal’s tortured body admiring the handiwork of his employees and occasionally reaching out to press down viscously on a particularly livid bruise or burn. Mal had tried not to moan or twist his body away from Wing’s cruel touch, as it seemed to give the man an almost sexual satisfaction when he did. Finally, Wing’s desire for a decent meal and his own bed persuaded him to stop the torment until morning. So, delivering one final blow to Mal’s ribcage that sent him swinging from the chains in agony, Wing had left.

When Mal finally stopped swinging, he tried to assess the damage done as best as he was able. Wing’s men had been most proficient in the art of torture under Wing’s watchful eye. When one grew tired, the other took over seamlessly, giving Mal no time to brace himself or catch his breath between each different device. Coming to the brink of unconsciousness several times, Mal had been unable to reach the blessed oblivion it would have offered him. Even Niska had let him die for a few minutes, he mused, wondering if he was on the thin edge of sanity to even have such a thought. Too weakened to stretch his legs and feet out to the floor now, his weight rested excruciatingly on his battered shoulders and raw wrists, and a cold sweat burned like fire in his open wounds.

As the night wore on, a cold wind blew through the cracks in the walls, and Mal began to shake violently, his teeth clattering together hard enough that he was surprised they didn’t simply shatter. After a long time, the shaking stopped, leaving him limp as a rag doll in its wake. Trying not to think about what tomorrow would bring, he closed his eyes and attempted to sleep while he had the chance.

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Inara surveyed her appearance in her full-length mirror. She remembered Atherton’s preferences with regard to hair and make-up, and knew exactly what style of dress he preferred. And she hoped that the skills that made her an exceptional Companion would at least help her gain entrance to his estate this morning. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of Serenity into Persephone’s early morning sun, and hailed a driver to take her to Atherton’s estate.

Standing at the gate, she requested entrance from the head of Atherton’s household staff. “I’m sorry, Miss Serra,” the man said. “Mr. Wing is not yet awake. Perhaps you could come back later.” He looked uncomfortably at the screen.

Inara stood her ground. “Perhaps I could wait in the morning room,” she suggested sweetly. “I’m certain Mr. Wing will want to see me.”

Atherton’s voice overrode the man’s next comment. “Let her in, Neville,” he said, loudly enough that Inara could hear. “Through the servant entrance. And send her to my bedchamber.”

Neville looked at Inara, an apology in his eyes. “Miss Serra, if you’d be so kind as to…”

Inara smiled brightly. “It’s perfectly all right, Neville. I heard Mr. Wing’s request. I’ll come around back.”

“Very good, ma’am,” Neville replied with relief.

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Inara’s heart hammered in her throat as she was escorted through the mansion. Though she’d been here several times before, she had never made the trip knowing what she knew now about the ugly underbelly of Atherton’s personality. She had made a personal vow after their last encounter to do everything within her power to avoid ever setting eyes on him again, but that vow had become a moot point the moment she knew he had Mal.

Steeling her resolve, she stepped into the huge bedroom that was the most private place in Atherton’s house. Her eyes adjusting to the dim light, she looked carefully around the room. Where once it had seemed a pleasant place to spend an evening, now it resembled nothing so much as a tomb. As that dismal perception entered her mind, a hand clamped bruisingly over her shoulder, causing her to jump in surprise.

Atherton turned her around to face him. “Well, well,” he said, his voice sliding like a snake along her spine. “What an unexpected delight to have you here again, bao bei.”

The term of endearment, such a mockery of the way Mal said it so lovingly, made Inara shudder in revulsion for this man. The motion was not lost on Atherton. His expression became brittle. ‘What do you want, whore? Be quick. I have business elsewhere.”

Inara swallowed thickly, realizing that he would brook no pretense on her part. “I want to see Captain Reynolds. I want you to release him to me.”

Atherton looked at her, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Why, pray tell, would you think I have your precious Captain?’

“I know you have him,” Inara said, biting back her need to rage at the man.

“Let us say, for the sake of argument, that that is true,” Atherton said, warming up to this new game. “What are you prepared to offer in exchange for him?”

Inara had known such a question would come. “I’m not prepared to offer anything at all until I know he’s alive. Take me to him, and then we’ll discuss the terms.”

Atherton towered over her, predator to prey. “My dear, I believe you flatter yourself. I am not in the habit of acceding to the demands of whores. Leave me.” He turned his back to her.

Silently cursing him and all his ancestors, Inara knew exactly the part he wished her to play. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat, and walked around his forbidding form to face him. Placing her hand lightly on his chest, she arranged her face in a submissive expression. “Please, Atherton,” she said, forcing the words to sound penitent.

Raw pleasure coursed through Atherton at her demeanor. Grinning ferally, he said, “Strip.”

Inara’s heart hammered as she stood frozen for a moment. Atherton laughed low in his throat. “Don’t concern yourself overmuch, my pet. While I fully intend to issue that same command to you at a later date for a more pleasurable purpose, that is not my intention now. Your Captain is not here. We’ll have to take a little trip to see him. And while you are quite charming, I’m well aware of your penchant for deception. Hence the need for the search.” Motioning with his hands, he continued, “Remove everything. Now.”

Telling herself that it didn’t matter, that this man had seen her naked many times, and that this was the only way to get to Mal, she took off her clothes and stood before him. Atherton, very much aroused by the thought of how Inara would react when she saw what he’d done to her precious lover, walked around her slowly, clucking with appreciation. “Lovely as ever. My compliments,” he said.

Silently repeating like a mantra that this would get her to Mal, Inara forced herself to stand perfectly still as his intentionally rough hands roamed across her chilled skin. She closed her eyes and stifled a cry as his fingers pushed up into her brutally. Withdrawing them slowly, he smiled malevolently, but said nothing.

He turned his attention to her clothes, pawing them in search of weapons or tracking devices. Finally satisfied, he turned back to her, throwing the wrinkled garments at her feet. “Get dressed. Wouldn’t want your precious Captain to see you like this.”

Swallowing back a scalding retort, Inara bent to retrieve her clothes.

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To be continued