Chapter Thirty-Nine
Gemma had spent the remainder of the day keeping Imara awake to ensure her concussion hadn’t grown into something more serious. Imara was, of course, annoyed and didn’t hesitate to tell Gemma where to shove her medical experience.
But every now and then, Gemma would catch Imara’s gaze flicker to the now-dead monster that could’ve taken her life, and eventually, her protests ceased.
Staying put also gave them more time to rest. At first, the guys had been frustrated, concerned about returning to Zion on time. But when Gemma warned them about the risk of Imara’s brain swelling if she didn’t rest until at least the morning, they seemed to calm down.
It wasn’t until the sun dipped below the mountain tops that Gemma gave Imara the okay to go to sleep.
“It’s about fucking time,” Imara chirped, leaping to her feet like someone lit her bum on fire.
“Someone will wake you up every two or three hours, though, to make sure you’re still alive,” Gemma warned.
Imara spun and glared at her.
Gemma exaggerated her relaxed stance, challenging Imara to argue. But Imara just growled and flipped her off before crawling into her shelter.
She smiled. Her friend’s personality was still intact.
“Go lay down,” Christian said from behind her. “I’ll take the first watch.”
Gemma watched as he arranged rocks in a tight circle. In the center, he placed a rectangular gray block, its outside covered with a strange sheen. That must be an infernoblock.
Christian stepped back, lit a match, and dropped it into the ring. The block ignited, engulfing their campsite in a bluish-white glow.
“You really do know what you’re doing,” Gemma commented, a hint of awe in her voice.
Without their helmets on, she could see his face tighten at her words.
What had really happened during his hunts? He was a different version of himself out here on Reva’s surface.
“I’m not quite tired yet,” Gemma lied. “Can I sit with you for a bit?”
Christian’s lips lifted in a soft smile. “Of course.”
Gemma sat next to him, her hip brushing against him, and slipped her arm under his. She nestled her head against his broad shoulder.
“Talk to me, Holm,” she said, deepening her voice in an attempt to mimic the sound of his.
He laughed. “What in the blazes was that? You sounded like an old woman with constipation.”
Gemma snorted, unable to keep herself from cackling. “I was trying to be you.”
“Stars, if I sound like that, please cut my vocal cords.” She heard the smile in his voice.
Their laughter subsided, leaving a thoughtful silence.
She pursed her lips before speaking. “In all seriousness, though, what’s going on with you? I’ve never seen you so tense.”
Christian picked up a pebble and threw it into the flames. “I just don’t like being out here.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer.
Gemma tilted her head up, her eyes searching his, and the pain she found in his eyes wrenched her heart. “What happened out here? I hate seeing you hurt so much.”
Christian took her hand between both of his. “Please”—he grimaced—“I don’t want your opinion of me to change.”
“That’s not going to happen. Besides, it can’t be worse than signing up for a terrorist organization.”
She’d tried to lighten the mood, but he still frowned.
Gemma placed her free hand onto his forearm in a silent promise that he was as safe with her as she was with him.
He sighed. “Being involved with the Falaichte district is . . . worse than people realize. It’s not simply a place hidden from the eyes of the Systems. It’s vile and wicked, and a lot of awful stuff happens down there.
People like Hawk get the chance to train in simulators from the time they’re a kid, but for people like my family, we’re not that lucky.
If I wanted to honor my mom’s last wish, I had to stoop low. ”
Gemma frowned. “What is the Falaichte district? I’ve only ever heard the rumors that they were some sort of, like, Black Market.”
He shrugged the shoulder she wasn’t leaning against. “They are, which means nothing came through legally. Or ethically.”
After another short silence, he swallowed.
“When I was about fifteen, Dad got approached by one of the Falaichte firearms instructors who offered ‘real world experience.’ Every couple of weeks, they’d take groups of kids out under the ruse that we were hunting for the city.
And we did. But we didn’t only hunt beasts, like that thing over there.
” He nodded toward the creature they’d killed hours earlier.
“We hunted each other. Never kill shots, but still . . .”
Gemma’s face fell. She combed her brain for a response. How in the blazes did one even respond to something like that?
Christian looked at her then, his eyes pierced with pain.
“It wasn’t until I’d already agreed to train with them that I found out what ‘real world experience’ was, and then it was too late.
I tried to back out, but they said I’d seen too much, and if I did, they’d kill my family to make sure there were no ‘loose ends.’ So, I kept going, and I used that anger to win fights in the boxing ring and make back some of the money Dad lost every time he paid those fuckers. ”
Gemma’s eyes started to water. No wonder he’d been so quick to forgive her for what she’d done for the Dissent.
She understood now why it had been so easy for him to embrace the darker parts of her from the very beginning, to not judge when he’d learned she’d attempted to end her life.
It made sense now why he’d been hesitant to fight any of them the day of their simulated training and why he was so good at staying in control of his emotions.
Did anyone in Perileos not have tragedy in their past?
“Christian”—she placed her hand on his cheek—“you shouldn’t feel guilty for something they made you do. They used your love for your family as much as the Dissent used my love for mine.”
“I know.” His hazel eyes were glassy. “Everything I did was unwillingly, all to protect Lysa and Dad. But the memories still haunt me. I’d only just gotten away from the Falaichte when I left for Zion. This was to be my restart. To do everything right.”
Gemma’s heart fell. “Do you regret helping me?”
His eyes widened slightly. “No, not at all. This is part of me doing things right, despite how much I hate being out here. You said Rami’s going to take a plea to the President to help Perileos the moment we stop the Dissent.
Doing this furthers that plan. Besides, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You know that.”
Gemma ran her thumb along the stubble on his chin that’d grown out in the few days since he’d last shaved.
“So, that’s how you know how to read maps and fight like you do.
” She attempted to make him smile. “Let’s see .
. . sharpshooter, master survivalist, great in bed.
Is there anything you can’t do, Mister Holm? ”
A grin spread across his face, his cheeks flushing. “Cook. I’m not very good at that. Or sing. Trust me, even the sound of a screeching tram sounds better.”
Gemma giggled. The corners of his eyes had creased again in the way that made her insides tingle.
Stars, he was so handsome, even in that ridiculous black suit.
Christian kissed her, his lips lingering longer than usual, as if his demons were disappearing at her touch. He pulled away and placed one last, tiny kiss on the tip of her nose.
“Go get some sleep,” he said. “Someone’ll wake you when it’s your turn to watch.”
Gemma stepped out of the shuttle to Oranos and glanced fervently across the docking bay.
A wave of dark brown sprinted at her, screaming her name.
Gemma’s heart neared explosion as bright-blue eyes—their father’s eyes—found hers. Unable to breathe, Gemma stumbled toward her sister, squeezing Nadine so hard the gods themselves couldn’t tear them apart.
Tears streamed down their faces. “I’ve missed you so much,” Gemma croaked.
“Me too,” Nadine replied. “I wrote you so many letters I couldn’t send, but it’s happening, Gemstone.” She pulled away from Gemma to look her in the eye. “We’re going to the City of Lights.”
“Get up, you milksop,” Imara said playfully, smacking the outside of Gemma’s shelter’s door.
Gemma squeezed her eyes closed, tears rolling down her actual cheeks. I’m coming, Nadine.