Satine didn’t believe in lunar prisons. That is, until she got shipped out to the one on her planet’s outermost moon. There, she’s assigned to Warden Jet — a fine specimen on the facility payroll — highborn, broad shouldered, fit as fuck and intent on ‘rehabilitating’ his new charge.
Cover art by Chase Horan
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He said he was arresting me, that I was going to prison.
No way, I thought. Prison was just a story parents told their kids to make them behave. When I saw the school bully get away with lifting the skirts of every girl in my grade, I knew it was a load of bull. I stopped believing in wardens and moon prisons. I’d never known anyone who got caught, and believe me, most of the people I’ve come across would have deserved it.
The vista ahead showed a white building set against pitch black. No sky on the moon. The only safeguard between us and space was the crystal clear biodome and the faint reflections of light from the ground. Beyond lay the endless expanse of stars and a promise of cold, indifferent death.
My captor stood behind me, a hand on my shoulder.