Chapter Thirty-Three
Rami dropped Gemma off at her flat and handed back her access ring. “As far as anyone’s concerned, Lieutenant Commander Mehnkof’s death is under investigation, and you’ve earned your spot as a graduate. Understood?”
Rami’s stare bore deep into Gemma’s soul. She knew her title as Winner hung on her ability to follow through with playing spy. If she didn’t succeed, she’d end up in prison—or dead.
“Got it.” Gemma held her ring against the keylock by her door. With a green flash, it signaled permission to enter, and the door whooshed open.
Gemma loosened her breath the moment her door closed. She may have privacy within her own flat, but the technology here was monitored, and cameras were stationed in all public areas. Rami would watch her every move now.
Privacy would forever remain a thing of the past.
Her room was so quiet and empty, save for a bouquet of flowers that she hadn’t seen when Christian had come to escort her to the formal graduation party. The blooms now lay limp on the small table near her door.
Gemma’s stomach twisted into a tight knot. Christian. The look on his face when she’d run away cut a gaping hole in her soul. He’d been so terrified and confused.
She wiped a tear from her eye before it could fall. Christian was the last thing she needed to be worrying about right now. Rami had given her an ultimatum—spy or die—and she intended to see it through. She would worry about her aching heart later.
Gemma stripped free of her sparkly, black dress, shoving it in the waste disposal, and prepared herself for a long, hot shower.
Her knees and shoulders ached terribly, the skin around the burn marks on her side and back were blazing red, and the bruises on her wrists and ankles had already begun to darken.
She’d had a horrible day, and nothing would feel better than hot water on her aching muscles.
As soon as the water hit the wounds on her skin, though, sizzling pain smacked Gemma like another round of shocks from the electroprod. She winced through her teeth and made the water as cold as she could stand.
A hot shower definitely needed to wait.
She had just finished brushing her wet hair when someone buzzed her room.
Gemma dropped her brush and gasped the moment her comm projected the image from the door’s camera onto her eyepiece.
Christian.
Dressed in only a bathrobe, Gemma sat on her toilet and stared at him through her lens. A deep frown had settled on his face, and his hair was messier than it had ever been.
She wasn’t sure if she had the strength to open the door. Seeing anger in his eyes would break her.
Once more, Christian pressed the buzzer and ran a hand down his face. “Gemma, I know you can see me. Open the door.”
She closed her eyes and willed herself toward him. Every muscle in her face and neck were tight when she reached the door and pressed her palms against its frame. She swallowed, then she pushed the button to let him in.
“Hey,” she said, unable to look him in the eye.
He huffed before pushing past her, digging his hands into his hair. “That’s all you have to say?” His back was toward her, but Gemma could feel the rage radiating off him, as hot as the rays from Reva’s sun.
She shut her door and glued her back to it, her hands shaking at her sides. She didn’t know what to say.
What could she say?
Christian turned around, fists clenched at his sides. “After everything I told you—about my mom, about how my dad literally spent every penny he had to get me to Oranos, about the fights—you had been planning to kill the director of Zion. What in Illari’s name were you thinking?”
His voice grew louder. “You knew my dad was beaten for all the money he borrowed. You knew I’d fallen as low as joining the Falaichte to train and fight.
My family risked everything to get me here, and yet you still nearly jeopardized all of it.
If Rami had been murdered, do you seriously think they’d ever let another person from Perileos onto Oranos again?
How many people do you think would’ve suffered because of your choice? ”
Gemma’s knees weakened, a sob bubbling in her throat. She deserved his condemnation and disapproval. She knew when she put the poison in that glass that she was stabbing him in the back. That’s why she’d hesitated one too many times.
But she’d thought her sister was dead, and she never turned her back on her family.
“How the fuck are you not in prison right now?” he yelled, shattering Gemma’s bones.
Her knees finally gave way. She slid down the door, hitting the floor with a thump.
She dropped her face into her hands and wept. “I thought he killed my sister. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Gemma . . .” Christian was on the floor, kneeling in front of her, within seconds. “Hey, don’t—I’m sorry. Please, don’t cry.” He sat on the ground as he pulled her into his arms, resting his cheek on the top of her head.
She’d wept earlier when she was with the Kaizen and Rami, but from sheer terror.
Staring into the fiery eyes of someone whom she’d torn apart on her vindictive mission was another feeling entirely, and the emotions were too much.
Especially since it was Christian, the kind, strong man who’d wiped her tears, who’d take a bullet for her, who told her she’d never be alone.
She deserved all his fury.
Amid her cries, she tried pushing away, shoving hard against his chest, desperate for him to tell her how much he hated her and wished she would die, but he held her tighter the harder she struggled.
Her resolve broke.
Gemma bawled into his chest, her ribs aching with every sob. All the sorrow and pain from the past few hours—blast, the past few years—erupted out of her in one massive explosion. Three years of pain unleashed in a torrent of remorse, disgust, and melancholy.
Her breaths came in too quick, too shallow. She gripped his shirt as white spots formed at the edges of her vision.
“Love, you need to breathe,” Christian pleaded, his voice gentle and quiet. He kissed her hair and cuddled her deeper into his embrace, drawing gentle circles between her shoulder blades.
Gemma cried until her sternum felt like it was cracking, until she had no more tears left to shed. But she stayed locked in Christian’s arms, scared to let go, terrified that this was all another temporary reprieve.
When Christian loosened his grip, Gemma slowly sat up. She knew she must look awful. Her eyes burned, and her face had to be as red as Reva’s surface.
“I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you.” He frowned, wiping the leftover tears from her cheeks.
She averted her gaze. “I deserved it.”
“No, you didn’t.”
She shook her head but didn’t have it in her to argue.
Christian held one of Gemma’s hands, his thumb stroking the skin right below where the ropes had been tied. “Talk to me. What did you mean by you ‘thought he killed your sister?’ ”
Gemma took a deep, quivering breath, her eyes fluttering closed. Rehashing everything she’d uncovered with Rami was the absolute last thing she wanted to do, but Christian deserved the truth.
She shared every detail of the last three years, how the Dissent found her, recruited her, trained her, and ultimately manipulated her.
She shared what she’d learned, how Nadine wasn’t dead at all, but alive and training on Oranos right now.
Christian listened intently, hanging on every word.
When she reached the revelation about how the Dissent knowingly sent her to her doom, a muscle feathered in his jaw.
“Reymond played me.” She sniffled, her shoulders slouching. “He saw a stupid, seventeen-year-old orphan who desperately missed her sister, and he turned her into a pawn. Stars, I was such a fool.” Gemma shook her head again as a tear ran down her cheek.
“You’re not a fool.” Christian caught the tear before it fell in her lap. “If someone told me that Lysa had been murdered, I’d want to kill them too.”
“But—”
“No, Gemma. Reymond used your love for your sister against you, and I swear to Illari, if I ever see him, I will put a bullet through his brain.” Christian’s gaze was fierce, his eyes full of fury.
She’d seen him in battle. He never missed.
Reymond had better hope he never crossed paths with Christian.
“I really am sorry,” Gemma said, casting her gaze to the floor.
Christian tucked his finger under her chin, lifting so her eyes would meet his. “There is nothing to be sorry for.”
For minutes, Gemma sat wrapped in Christian’s arms, thankful for the quiet that followed. With her ear against his chest, she listened to his steady heartbeat. Its rhythm was soothing, grounding. As was the stroking of his thumb on her hand.
Until his tight voice broke the silence. “How bad was it?”
“Bad enough that I don’t want to talk about it.” She hadn’t meant for it to sound as snippy as it had, but reliving those terrifying moments, remembering the pain and humiliation . . . She wouldn’t subject him to those memories.
Thankfully, he didn’t pry.
A thought crossed her mind. “How did you know I wasn’t in prison?” She sat up so she could look at him.
“I passed Rami in the hall and couldn’t help but ask about you.” There was a sadness in his eyes. “He told me you were here.”
Gemma frowned. Despite how angry he had been with her, he’d still checked on her well-being. How he could continue to care for her, she would never understand. But she was so glad he did.
Christian touched her cheek. “You look tired. Do you want me to go?”
Her stomach dropped, and she adamantly shook her head. “No, stay with me. Please.”
“I’m going to have to sleep in my underwear. You gonna be able to handle that?” Christian winked.
Typical. Always trying to lighten the mood. Gemma couldn’t help the small smile.