Chapter Seventeen
Though it was late, the dormitory was bustling with energy when Gemma found the strength to emerge from the locker room.
She knew she looked awful. Every bone in her body felt shattered and glued back together in the wrong places.
Her knees ached from where they’d hit the shower floor, and the throbbing in her palm was brutal.
Luckily, there had been some basic medical supplies in the locker room, which Gemma had used to close and wrap the wound. But without some painkillers, the agony was sure to last for a while.
What hurt the most, though, was her soul. It was damaged, fragmented.
The unnecessary slaughter of Moriah had cleared her vengeful haze enough that she’d realized how dangerous and brutal this mission truly was. Gemma was so naive.
The member of the Systems’ government who presided over Reva lived on Oranos.
Of course they’d have every means of surveillance at their disposal.
They had militarized robots patrolling the streets in Perileos, for stars’ sake.
They probably even had undercover agents within the Dissent, for all they knew.
It was no secret that the Dissent’s voice was growing louder. There were even rumors that people on the Oranos Space Station itself had begun to sympathize. And it was clear that they were looking to permanently stop the threat the Dissent posed to the Systems. The first simulated test proved that.
Gemma needed to be extra cautious from now on. This wasn’t going to be as simple as winning a few tests and killing Rami. She was on the Systems’ radar now. She had to find a way to stay alive.
Christian sat on the edge of his bed, his elbows on his knees and hands interlocked under his jaw.
Gemma’s legs weakened as she approached. She would never be able to tell him what she’d done, or Imara—or anyone. Every part of her wanted to run, to flee Zion and hide in Perileos and pretend none of it ever happened.
Technically, she could remove herself from the competition. There were no rules against it.
But she would forever hate herself for it, not just for what happened to Moriah, but because she would fail Nadine, and, thereby, allow Moriah’s loss of life to be for nothing.
She had to see this through, no matter how much it hurt to lie to her friends.
Gemma stepped into Christian’s line of sight. “What’d I miss?” She kept her voice as light as possible, despite the tightening in her throat.
He looked up as if he expected to see anyone but her, then his eyes brightened, and he rose to his feet.
Christian moved to hug Gemma, but she stepped back instinctively. A deep frown settled onto his face, but he didn’t pry.
“Are you all right?” His eyes searched her face. “When you didn’t come back, we feared you’d been dismissed.”
She swallowed, stifling her emotions. “I’m fine. It was a misunderstanding.”
Gemma tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, trying to play off her absence as nonchalantly as she could, and realized too late that she’d used her injured hand.
Christian narrowed his eyes, motioning to her wrist. “A misunderstanding led to that?”
Her face and chest tightened. “It’s no big deal.”
He snagged her arm in his grip, turning it in the light as he inspected her wrapping. “You should’ve gone to the infirmary.”
“Why?” She yanked her arm back, cradling it behind her. “Ten years of medical training, remember?”
Christian sighed in defeat, running his fingers through his hair. “Look, just . . . Come with me before they call for lights out.”
Gemma pressed her lips together.
She should say no. She’d started having feelings for him, and after what happened with Moriah, she needed to fall back onto her initial strategy to stay distant and cold and avoid getting close to anyone.
If that could happen to someone she didn’t even know, what would they do to those she’d come to care for?
But she also knew her nightmares would be vicious tonight. The moment they shut off the lights and forced everyone to sleep, she would drown in an abyss of torment. Her stomach churned just thinking about it.
“Okay,” she said at last.
Christian held out a hand to her, still frowning in concern, but Gemma pretended not to notice as she placed her good hand in his.
They maneuvered down one of the halls that branched off the main thoroughfare until Christian paused in front of one of the wall’s white panels. He felt around the edges of it until a soft click resonated, and the panel popped out. He lowered it to the floor, leaving a black expanse in its place.
Christian tipped his head toward the opening. “Go on in. It’s safe.”
Gemma furrowed her brows but stepped inside, nearly tripping over a piece of duct work before realizing she was within the innards of Zion.
It was dark, but the light from the hall brightened it enough to admire the Revanium skeleton of the most sophisticated structure this side of the Illari Galaxy.
Christian pieced the wall back together once he was inside. “There are several of these maintenance doors all over the building if you know where to look.”
She eyed him suspiciously.
“Dad’s a maintenance chief in Perileos.” He motioned for Gemma to move further in. “I’m not gonna be able to get around you, so keep walking.”
Gemma brushed her fingertips against the cold metal beams as she worked her way through the narrow passages.
Not being able to see more than a few inches in front of her made her hair stand on end, especially after that sensory deprivation trial.
At least it helped that she could feel the walls on either side of her.
It made it easier to sense where to maneuver and step.
There were a few sharp turns, but they mostly ambled forward, deeper inside Zion’s body.
A dim light appeared a short distance away, brightening as Gemma grew closer to the source. She took a few more steps before entering a small alcove, where a window oversaw her planet from dozens of levels above the surface.
Reva’s sky was dark and filled with large, glorious stars that held their sway in the quiet of the night, basking the world below in their gentle glow.
One of the moons was at half-size off in the distance, and from this height, the sky was silk against stone, the red of Reva’s surface a dark crimson in the moonlight.
Gemma ambled toward the window with her mouth slightly ajar, unable to speak. The view was breathtaking.
She pressed her palms against the glass, as if she could fall through and float into the universe beyond and dance with the constellations above.
“Amazing, right?” Christian said from beside her, watching her as she admired the view.
All these beautiful stars, yet he was staring at her.
“This is . . . ” She swallowed down the overwhelming emotions. “Thank you for showing me.”
He smiled softly, stepping closer. “I figured you could use a view like this after the day you had.”
Her throat tightened. Christian had been nothing but kind and gentle and empathetic and understanding since the moment he’d caught her falling off the bunked bed’s ladder. And now, he was sharing this intimate semblance of peace with her.
She ached to tell him about Moriah, but how could she tell him about Moriah’s death without revealing why she was here? If he found out she was with the Dissent, he would not only hate her, but he’d turn her in, and the guy she’d come to care about would be the one to sign her death sentence.
The moment she found herself as part of a team, the fragile walls around her heart started to fracture. Just the thought of the impending post-Trials loneliness enveloped her like a manifesting disease.
Her chest hitched as she lowered herself to the floor.
Christian’s eyebrows drew together as he sat, facing her. “You know you can talk to me, right?”
She drew her knees up to her chest, cocooning them in her arms. “Please don’t ask. You don’t want to know.”
He frowned, looking over her shoulder out the window. A flicker of pain flashed over his face before he blinked slowly, sighing. “You asked me before how I learned to shoot. There’s more to that story.”
Gemma focused her gaze on him. There was so much sadness in his eyes that her own heart ached.
“I was ten when my mom died,” Christian explained in a hushed voice.
“She was followed home by a group of bounty hunters, and they . . . ” He cleared his throat.
“She died in a way no woman ever should while my sister and I hid inside an armoire, forced to watch. It’s not a memory you want to hear about in detail. Trust me.”
Gemma’s eyes burned. A ten-year-old boy should never have to witness that kind of savagery inflicted on his mother. She couldn’t imagine seeing such violence.
When her parents had died, it was from a virus that had taken hundreds of lives in Perileos twelve years ago. Watching them dwindle away had eaten pieces of Gemma’s soul. How much of Christian’s had been destroyed when evil took his mother?
“My mom’s last words to my dad were, ‘Promise me you’ll get them out of here,’ ” Christian continued.
“So, Dad hired tutors in about every subject for me and Lysa.
General school subjects, chess, martial arts—even the illegal ones like firearms instructors.
All to make sure we passed our Trials one day.
“He went bankrupt several times holding to that promise. Borrowed money from the wrong people and got the blazes beat out of him several times. That’s why I started fighting, to make up some of the money he’d lost and make sure he lived long enough to continue providing Lysa the training she needed. ”
Gemma put her hand on his arm, shifting so she sat cross-legged.
Christian covered her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that whatever happened that made you sew your own hand together, that caused you to have the same look on your face that I see way too often in the mirror . . . I can handle it.”
Gemma bit back tears, averting her gaze. Avoiding him for the rest of the Trials would be impossible; there was no use denying it anymore. She was falling for him, and she didn’t know if she could stop.
She didn’t know if she wanted to.
The last person she’d really opened up to about anything was Nadine. Gemma could use someone to talk with; she didn’t want the loneliness to fester into another hole in her heart. She would just have to be careful how she worded things, telling the truth while withholding some of the details.
She swallowed, still unable to meet his eyes. “The Kaizen took me and that other girl to a . . . room.” She couldn’t say torture chamber. “She held a gun to our faces, convinced one of us was working with the Dissent.”
Christian’s nostrils flared, his hold on her hand tightening.
“The Kaizen got pulled away in the middle of the interrogation, so I came up with a plan that would allow the two of us to escape. But it failed, and the other girl died.” Gemma shook her head.
“She hadn’t wanted to do it, but I convinced her.
She would still be alive if it weren’t for my stupid idea. ”
“No”—Christian tucked his finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him—“if you hadn’t done something, you both would be dead.”
“Well maybe that’s what I want.” Gemma snapped her mouth shut, but the words had left her before she’d even processed them. Her eyes grew wide alongside Christian’s.
Is that what I really want? Once upon a time, it had been. But now, she had a mission to fulfill, a purpose.
Yet, she was so tired of death. Her parents. Her sister. And now, she’d forever be scarred by the image of Moriah’s dead body lying atop the woman who’d killed her.
Gemma could still smell the metallic scent of Moriah’s blood, see the puddle of it spreading across the stone floor, feel the shock of pain shoot through her body when her knees hit the ground.
“Tell me you don’t really want that.” Christian interrupted her memory, his voice pleading. His hands had fallen beside him, and he stared at her with pained eyes.
Gemma didn’t respond. What could she say? Her entire being hurt as if she’d been sucked into the vacuum of space, each atom of her body collapsing in on itself.
He cupped Gemma’s head between his hands. “Listen to me,” he said, pinning her to the spot. “What happened with the Kaizen was not your fault. You tried to save the two of you. That’s bravery, not cruelty. Do not give in to the thoughts that try to convince you otherwise.”
Gemma’s chin quivered. Her mind was so jumbled.
She wanted to believe him, but it still was her fault.
If she’d owned up to being part of the Dissent, Moriah would still be alive.
But she’d chosen to save her own skin so she could keep fighting to avenge her sister, so she could kickstart the revolution that saved her people.
And an innocent person had paid the price.
“Do you believe me?” Christian asked, running his thumb across her jawline. The touch was so genuine, so gentle, that her heart skipped a beat.
Gemma wanted to shake her head, but that would only prompt more questions from him that she wouldn’t—couldn’t—answer. So, she just nodded, avoiding his gaze.
Christian angled her chin, and she finally looked at him. His eyes were full of so much concern that her heart pinched. Why he cared so much about her, she didn’t understand.
But she was grateful he did.
“You’re not alone, Gemma,” he whispered softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
The walls around her heart crumbled. She’d so desperately wanted to hear those words since Nadine left her, waving goodbye at the entrance to Perileos. Gemma had been so lonesome for so long.
Trying to stop falling for Christian was no longer an option.
She’d just hit the ground.
Without hesitation, Gemma pressed her lips against his. They were warm and soft, and the masculine smell of aftershave was still fresh on his cheeks. A tingle spread from her lips into her chest.
She pulled away, sitting bolt upright, her cheeks burning like fire. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why?” The other corner of his mouth rose, and then his fingers were behind Gemma’s slender neck, urging her toward him.
She couldn’t stop the small noise that escaped when Christian’s mouth pressed against hers. His kiss was so deep and passionate that her entire body flooded with warmth.
She placed a hand on his knee to steady herself, and when he lifted his lips off hers, it took Gemma a moment to remember how to breathe.