It hadn't taken long to track them. She knew the Empire's protocols well enough to be able to monitor relevant communications undetected, and chatter of Solo's capture and transport to Jabba the Hutt wasn't difficult to pinpoint, even on the most private of Imperial channels.

She could feel that itch in her fingertips, that familiar thirst for blood tugging at her insides as she maneuvered the jet towards Tattooine, stealing away in the shadow of a large freighter and landing in a commercial docking bay before stealing a transport to Jabba's palace. Fuck the Rebel plan. Fuck Skywalker and his patience. She was getting him back. Now.