Tendons in Vastor’s neck cranked his head down a centimeter at a time. She doesn’t want you hurt.

“Depa? Do you plan to hide behind her forever?” Mace folded his arms. “Always find a reason to back down, don’t you? I admire your … creativity.”

The Akk Guards stared.

All twelve akk dogs hunched and coiled their haunches, tails whipping forward past their shoulder spines: ready to pounce. Vastor snarled and lunged convulsively past Mace. He snatched Nick’s arm and hauled the young Korun to his feet, holding him out toward Mace.

“Hey, y’know, ow, huh?”

I have grassers saddled and supplied. Take them and the boy and go.

His filed-sharp teeth seemed to glow in the vine-lit gloom. Take them and live.

“You know,” Mace said, “I don’t much care for your tone.”

Vastor’s eyes widened. His mouth worked silently.

“And take your hand off my aide. Now.”

Vastor found his voice: a roar of black rage. A violent shove sent Nick stumbling forward. Only a grab at Mace’s shoulders kept him on his feet. He looked up into the Jedi Master’s eyes and gave him a sickly grin. “Remember that question I wasn’t gonna ask anymore?”

GO. Vastor’s roar carried tectonic power. Go before I forget my promise to spare you.


- Shatterpoint, Chapter 11