Chapter Eleven
The doorway sealed behind them, the purple light flickering until it disappeared entirely.
“That’s not ominous,” Christian said.
Gemma whimpered. She couldn’t see anything, not even her hands in front of her face.
“One-three-four, you have lost your ability to see,” the alien voices said. “One-zero-three, you must successfully guide one-three-four to the other side. Fail to do so, and it will be your end.”
Her throat tightened as she reached for Christian. The aliens had blinded her. She was no longer in control of her own fate. Blast you, Rami.
“It’s all right,” Christian said, taking her hand in his. “It’s pretty dark for me, too, so just give me a second to assess where we are, then I’ll be your eyes.”
There was something in his tone—a softness she hadn’t noticed before. He gave Gemma’s hand a gentle squeeze, the gesture sending a flicker of warmth through her. This wasn’t the same Christian who’d fearlessly fought against the simulated Dissent soldiers. He was empathetic, kind.
She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heartbeat. She could trust him. She had to trust him.
And for some reason, that didn’t feel like a weakness.
“Okay,” Christian said, lightly tugging her forward. “Follow me.”
Gemma clung to his hand like he was the tether keeping her from floating into space. Every slow step they took felt like a kilometer, each inch building the nausea in her gut.
Christian halted them. “There’s a narrow pathway we need to cross. I’m going to walk backward. Keep your hands in mine, and I won’t let you fall.”
Fall? Her heart flailed in her chest. “But if you’re facing me, how are you—”
“I’m good on my feet.” He spoke nonchalantly, but a sliver of doubt tinted the edge of his voice.
Gemma pretended not to notice and placed her hands in his. Her breathing grew shallower—she couldn’t feel her feet.
Deep breaths, Gemma, Nadine would say. Mind over body. Confidence is capability.
Christian carefully moved them down the path, his strong hands never leaving hers.
With every step they took, Gemma’s anxiety waned until reliance on him felt as easy as breathing.
Not once did he lose his balance or falter, and by the time they reached the other side of the gap, her heart rate had slowed to a steady, even pace.
“Nice,” he said. “You did great.”
Gemma’s cheeks warmed. “All I did was hang onto you.”
“But you never froze. That’s impressive.”
She couldn’t stop the sheepish smile that took over her face. She liked this side of him. Maybe a little too much.
Gemma took a hand out of his to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She needed to be really careful around him if she didn’t want to fail her mission.
“All right,” Christian said, his words echoing as he guided Gemma into their next destination. They had to be in an expansive room now if their voices bounced off walls, much like they did inside the mines.
He continued. “There are tiles on the floor with more of those purple symbols on them. And on the walls . . .” Christian’s voice trailed off. A short pause, then, “It seems there’s a pattern we need to follow in order to get across. If we don’t do it right . . . Well, let’s not find that out.”
“Thanks. That’s comforting.”
Christian chuckled softly. “Just step on the ones I tell you to, and you’ll be fine.”
Gemma took a deep breath and let go of his hand. Her legs wobbled as she stood, waiting for Christian’s first instruction. If she somehow messed this up because she couldn’t see . . .
She swallowed deeply and forced her thoughts to settle. She would listen to Christian’s voice only. Hers didn’t have a place in her head right now.
“Okay. Your tiles are parallel to mine, which means I have to follow the same pattern as you if I’m to get across. So, I’ll go first, one at a time, and make sure I choose the right ones before I let you step onto something.”
“And what happens if you blow up?” Gemma quipped.
“Then run like mad.”
The playfulness in his voice did nothing to slow her increasing pulse. She didn’t have him to hold on to this time, and the thought that she might be left to figure it out alone without her eyesight . . .
Deep breaths, Gemma.
The room was eerily quiet until Christian’s footsteps punctured the silence.
He let out a slow breath. “Forty-five degrees forward, to your right. Each tile is a decent size, so take a big step.”
Gemma’s anxiety lessened. The Dissent had been wise in showing her how to use a compass—she didn’t need her vision to see the angle. Maybe this test would be much easier than anticipated.
She took a big step in the direction Christian had instructed and paused.
No sounds followed to indicate she’d made a mistake. She blew out a breath between pursed lips, wiping her sweaty palms on her trousers.
Christian stepped forward again.
A series of loud whooshes filled the air.
“Get down!” Christian shouted.
Gemma dropped to the ground, covering her head for protection. High-pitched whistles sang above her, but a second later were gone.
“Well, that wasn’t the right one,” Christian spoke into the silence.
“You’re not filling me with much confidence right now,” Gemma replied, rising back onto her feet.
“You’re right—sorry. Let me try again.”
He took another step, and Gemma held her breath. She’d been half-joking about him blowing up, but considering his last move had been the wrong one . . .
Nothing happened, and Gemma released the air from her lungs.
“Okay, your next tile is at your ten-o-clock,” Christian said.
At my ten? She grimaced. If she stepped just a little too far toward her nine or eleven, both of them would be going home.
A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face. You can do this, Gemma. She took a deep breath and stepped forward.
“Good,” Christian said. “Just two more to go.”
Two more? Gemma wanted to shout. That was two more chances for Christian to die or Gemma to fail. Stars, help me.
Christian’s next step was correct, and his instructions to Gemma were flawless. They were just one tile away now from passing, and hope sprouted in Gemma’s chest.
Then Christian stepped on the wrong tile.
The heat from the flame that hit him was so hot that even Gemma felt it. His cry of pain tugged at her heart. She yelled his name and moved to run toward him to assess the injury.
“No, stay there,” Christian shouted, his voice pained. “You touch the wrong tile, and we lose.”
She stilled instantly, her hands shaking. How badly had he been burned? She needed him to help her get across. What if he couldn’t get up from the ground?
Christian groaned loudly, and Gemma suspected he’d risen to his feet. He let out a deep breath. His footsteps followed—
Nothing.
Gemma almost cried out in relief. He’d figured out the final clue. They were going to make it.
“Directly to your right,” Christian said, his voice pained and deep.
Gemma obeyed.
“Now, step forward,” he instructed, and Gemma did as he asked.
The chamber brightened slowly, the alien symbols dimming as her sight returned and her eyes focused. She stood next to Christian, who clutched his side with a forearm so red and shiny that it glowed. And beneath a gaping hole that pierced the fabric of his uniform, was a raw, angry burn.
“Nice job,” Christian said before Gemma could ask to inspect the burn closer.
She sighed, reminding herself they were in a sim. The real Christian was unscathed. Though, he’d likely remember the pain for a long time.
“Well, you’re not too bad at the whole guiding thing,” Gemma replied, a small smile playing at her lips.
He returned the grin, his hazel-green eyes brightening. She shot her gaze toward the exit and cleared her throat.
“Shall we?” She motioned to the opening that would take them back to reality.
On the other side, Hawk and Imara stood on opposite sides of the small cavern, bickering.
“Next time, think before you pull things,” Hawk grumbled, wiping sweat from his forehead.
Imara crossed her arms and cocked a hip. “Oh, come on. You can’t tell me it wasn’t the right choice.” A cheeky grin spread across her face. “We’re here, aren’t we?”
“Barely.” There was a warmth in his tone that betrayed his irritation. “But if you didn’t have me to keep you alive—”
“Please,” Imara teased. “I’m the only reason we’re still breathing. Admit it.”
Gemma raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth flicking up in a soft grin. It seemed they’d had a very interesting trial.
Colton and Alfie joined a moment later. Alfie was all smiles, as usual, though he looked much more rattled than Colton.
“You should’ve seen him,” Alfie said. “Colton here was a pro. Barely broke a sweat!”
Colton offered a cool, small smile. “We managed.”
The piercing whistle that signaled their return to reality echoed off the walls of the cave. Gemma cupped her ears, squeezing her eyes closed—
Panic attacked her a moment later, though it was less intense this time, thank the stars. Gemma managed to get her jumpsuit on and zipped before exiting her sleep chamber. Hopefully this will feel normal at some point.
“Congratulations,” their android instructor said. “All pairs successfully passed their second trial and will move on to the next round. Please enjoy the rest of your evening at your leisure.”
All six of them still fought the lingering anxiety upon waking, but there was definitely a sense of relief and accomplishment throughout the room.
None of them had failed; their team was still together.
And the more teammates, the more varied their strengths would be, and the closer Gemma would get to accomplishing her mission. Praise Illari.
Her calmed stare peered over at Christian and found him watching her. She offered him a small smile, which he returned in kind, a sudden intensity in his eyes, like he was seeing her for the first time.
An unfamiliar emotion settled in the pit of her stomach. He’d been so gentle and kind and unwaveringly steady.
Gemma grimaced as recognition hit her like a punch in the gut. She’d started having feelings for him, and at the absolute worst time possible.
She tore her gaze from his and hurried out of their testing room, anxious to grab her food and find a spot in one of the halls to eat alone. As she should’ve been doing from the start.
I won’t fail you, Nadine.