Chapter 19
Audrey woke to the thrum of engines in her bones. The same vibration she’d felt inside the Silo now ran through the walls.
She was in a transport, taking her somewhere she did not want to go—again.
Footsteps retreated, and a door slammed. It smelled like metal, antiseptic, and something faintly burned.
She twitched her fingers. Then her toes. Small movements, but they were hers.
Her head reeled as she forced her eyelids open and looked around, trying to determine where they’d put her—and whether escape from Voírían hands was even possible.
Low light glowed overhead.
Blinking through her hazy vision, Audrey tried—and failed—to make sense of the technology barring her from leaving. Some kind of energy barrier. A holding cell by another name.
She pushed upright too fast. The space tilted. As it steadied, acid rose in her throat. She let out a low sound before swallowing it. The cot was narrow, bolted to the wall, the mattress barely thicker than a blanket. There was no pillow, and no window.
Oh, God.
She looked down at her hands. They were free—technically. The black bands still circled her wrists, snug and seamless, pulsing lightly with the engine hum. When she flexed against them, that now-familiar pain radiated through her arms.
The same restraints that suppressed her abilities were still tight against her skin.
Audrey hissed through her teeth and took in the rest of the space.
The walls were matte steel. Only a shallow sink and a toilet stood behind a partition. A blue-white barrier sealed the cell—translucent enough to see the corridor beyond.
She slid off the cot, her feet hitting the cold floor. Her knees almost buckled, but she caught herself against the wall. The ship shuddered—worse than restraints or nausea. They were moving. Time was running out.
No, no, no. This can’t be happening.
A sudden burst of panic tore through her. She shoved it down and forced herself toward the barrier. If she could find a seam, a weakness—
It wouldn’t get her home. It might not even get her off the ship.
She tried anyway because escape wasn’t the immediate goal. Audrey was in a brand new world now and needed to gather information if she was going to truly get away and find her sister.
When her fingers skimmed the blue field, it flared, sending a violent shock through her. A warning tone chirped overhead. Pain cracked through her arm. Audrey cried out and pulled back, hitting the cot and rattling it. She bent over, holding her wrist, breath shaking.
Good. Great. Fantastic. The ship bit back.
It sure does.
She froze. The male voice entered her thoughts, followed by the scrape of chains over steel somewhere to her right. He must have been a powerful telepath to break through the restraints. Or maybe it was because they were so close together. She didn’t understand how the technology worked.
Audrey straightened slowly and turned toward the adjoining partition. This time, she saw him.
Emerson stood in the next compartment, wrists shackled above his head to a metal track, ankles spread to keep him upright but not comfortably.
Dried blood trailed from one wrist to his forearm, with the cuffs digging into him.
He wore only black boxer briefs. Muscles rippled under the barrier’s glow, scars and bruises livid in the cold light.
His cracked lip was swollen, and his face was bruised.
They’d beaten him, but she struggled to find any pity. He looked more dangerous than she’d ever seen. Not diminished or broken, but contained. As if captivity had only clarified what he was.
His gaze, half-lidded from sedatives, caught hers. Neither spoke. She wanted to growl at his smirk, wanted to break something. Rational thought slipped; all that was left was the fire to fight—somewhere, somehow.
The engine droned underfoot. The ship shifted slightly, sending a rush of dizziness through her. She steadied herself with both hands against the wall and clenched her eyes shut until it passed.
“You gonna make it?” Emerson asked.
“They drugged me just like you. I’m just half your size,” she muttered. “I’ve survived worse.”
“Good.”
“Why do you care?” she slurred.
“Because your mother is gone, and they kept you alive. They want something from you—from a Simas—so we’re going to Nepra.
” His eyes trailed up her body. “Your family's name still gets attention in places you don't want it.” Then he smiled, predatory. “If I had to bet? You’re about to meet the man everyone here is trying not to disappoint.”
“Ryker,” she whispered.
Audrey put her fingers to the bridge of her nose. Scenes flashed—her mother’s hair, tangled and covering her face, forced themselves in. Guilt ate at her, angry and loud.
“And that,” Emerson said, “makes you my new best friend.”
Disgust rolled through Audrey. How could she have been so naive?
She went over every conversation with him, remembering his half-answers, the way he’d dodged truths.
He knew more than he let on. Not all secrets, but always enough to pull her farther.
Enough to dangle her mother barely out of reach, risking her life with every step.
Traitorous asshole. She was so stupid. Her lips twisted into a snarl. “How much did you know about these risks? About the possibility we’d get captured?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Emerson looked up at the ceiling, somehow managing to look bored out of his mind despite their situation. “It’s the only one you’re getting until you stop thinking like prey.” After a long pause, his eyes focused on her again.
A fierce glare overtook her face. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? You lied.”
“Outsiders don’t get onto Nepra unless you’re with the Separatists.” He shrugged. “First, they move us through the system. Then they decide what we’re worth.”
That was enough for her to know she was right. “Not even intelligence officers? Hunters?” she sneered.
“Not even us,” he confirmed. “To the public, it’s a restricted military zone. Aggregate-run. Most people believe it’s deserted.
“But it isn’t. Voíríans live there.”
“Not officially.” Disdain coated his voice. “As far as the government is concerned, I’m Ezebethian. The Aggregate would never acknowledge someone with Voírían blood and still grant them full rights as a Citizen.”
Audrey stared at him. “So Voíríans don’t exist. Humans don’t matter. Convenient for everyone in charge.”
“It makes it legal,” Emerson said. “Intervening with a Level Zero civilization is forbidden. Even if anyone wanted to help Earth, they’re not allowed to.”
Her fists curled at her sides. She itched for a fight with him. “Careful,” she murmured. “If you keep insulting me, I might stop helping you.”
“I never needed your help to begin with—only your cooperation. You’re not just Voírían. You’re a Simas.” He spat out the words like they tasted poisonous.
She’d heard him talk like this before, but it hit her then just how deeply Emerson hated her family—and Voíríans in general.
Audrey plowed on, resisting the urge to pound her hands against the buzzing wall between them.
“You’re underestimating how much I like my freedom.
I’m not going to meet Ryker at all.” She paced the tiny cell.
Only a few steps fit between the cot and the barrier.
The engines still rumbled, but the ship felt held in place for the moment.
Did she have time to free herself? Maybe.
Enough to survive the next hour, at least. Earth already felt extremely far away.
There would be no slipping into a crowd this time.
No alley to disappear into. No cash stuffed into her bra.
No drugs to mute the noise long enough to think.
Every fallback she’d ever used on Earth belonged to gravity, anonymity, and human scale.
None of that existed here. Whatever happened next, it would have to come from her.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Exploring.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
If she couldn’t escape the ship right now, she could at least learn it for later.
She tested the sink—brown water sloshed out, metallic and foul. She ignored the toilet entirely. “Do you know how many crew are aboard?” she asked.
Emerson exhaled slowly. “Why?”
“Just answer.”
“At least eight, maybe nine.”
She gave him a curt nod.
He cocked his head to the side, almost like an animal would. “You’ve been changing since your release,” he said.
“I have?”
“You’re not wondering how to survive anymore. You’re taking control.”
That word—control—settled differently inside her. While it meant she was using her power rather than letting it wield her, she shuddered at how much he sounded like her mother and Mihail.
“I think you already know you’re not getting out of here—not yet,” Emerson added. “Not until you become something they can’t contain.”
He was right. Passivity had caged her; she would not die trapped. She would free herself and reach her twin alive. Everyone else was gone. She would not lose Cary twice.
Her hands shook a little as she remembered how Emerson assessed the risk posed by specific Voíríans. He didn’t need to say it; she could feel it instinctively as he studied her in this cell. He thought that shift in her—the refusal to panic—meant she was becoming more dangerous. He might be right.
She snapped her attention to him and froze.
His eyes were luminous blue. A volatile blue of a storm fracturing old-glass windows—electric, nearly glowing, as if charged by whatever ran through the ship’s core.
Audrey thought that, in another world, such a color could have powered engines or short-circuited them. There was nothing human about it.
“Like what you see?” he asked.
“Yes,” Audrey said honestly.
He blinked, faint surprise playing across his face.
Why lie? He was built like something sculpted for war. A beautiful killer. Temptation with teeth.
The lights went in and out as the ship lurched forward. Damn it.
“They’ve initiated docking,” Emerson murmured. “We’ll hit an Aggregate checkpoint first. Then a smaller transport down to Nepra, if they get clearance.”
“There’s a chance we’ll be denied?”
“Unlikely,” he said. “The Separatists are more resourceful than the Aggregate likes to admit. Higher-ups go where they want. Mihail is almost as high as it gets.” Emerson’s eyes glanced at the ceiling.
“This isn’t a standard prison transport,” he said.
“Hear the pitch under the engine? That’s a checkpoint lock.
We’re already queued into the Aggregate corridor. ”
Audrey stared at him. “You’ve been on this route before,” she said.
“Yes.”
She sensed it even with the restraints on—he knew the machinery from the inside.
Heavy footsteps and voices sounded in the hallway, then metal scraped outside.
Emerson’s head lifted. “Get away from the door.”
His tone made her stand up straighter and listen. “Why?” she whispered as she backed up and sat down on the cot.
Something close to urgency crossed his face. “Because,” he said, “those aren’t routine guards just standing watch.”
Before all this, Audrey might have panicked. Instead, determination rose in her blood. She wasn’t completely helpless anymore. If they took her out of here, she might get a window of opportunity.
Locks disengaged, and the door cracked open. Brightness flooded the cell, making Audrey squint. A pale-uniformed officer stepped in and pointed directly at her.
“On your feet, Simas,” he said. “He said you go first.”