Chapter Forty-Five
Colton let go of Gemma long enough to switch out his knife for his pistol, and she placed her helmet back on her head. He took off her comm, bound her wrists, and then dragged her after him like a wounded pet.
Tears blurred Gemma’s vision as every step away from her friends felt like a betrayal.
Her feet were heavy with the weight of leaving them behind, not knowing if she’d ever see them again.
She didn’t get the chance to hold Christian, or kiss him, or hear him say, “I love you,” before she was wrenched away against her will.
Colton said he’d let her live, that he wouldn’t hurt her, but he’d lied to her from the very beginning, from the moment he’d saved her on the bridge. She had been on the Dissent’s side then. He would’ve known who she was. He probably knew every detail of Reymond’s plans, for stars’ sake.
So then, he also would’ve known Nadine was alive. He would’ve known Gemma was the “decoy.” Taking her to Christian when he’d fallen, catching her before she’d tripped down the steep hillside—it all had been nothing but a ruse.
“Stop dragging your feet.” Colton yanked on the rope tied to her bound wrists. “You could make fake kidnapping you a little easier.”
“What do you mean ‘fake kidnapping?’ Nothing about this is fake.” Gemma winced when the rope pulled on her skin again; her wrists hadn’t yet healed from her questioning with the Kaizen.
“Of course it is. I’m giving you an excuse to keep pretending like you’re with them instead of us.”
Gemma pulled on the rope herself, startling Colton to a stop. “You and I are not on the same team.” The words seethed out of her like poison.
He raised a dark eyebrow at her, its color a distinct contrast from his pink hair. “You’ve seriously flipped sides?” Colton chuckled in a way that sent a shiver down Gemma’s spine. “Oh, Reymond’s gonna be pissed. Você vai se ferrar.” With a violent jerk of the rope, he yanked Gemma forward.
She cried out in pain, the sensation of warm blood running down her arms. “Reymond lied to me. He doesn’t get my loyalty anymore.”
Colton laughed. “You mean about your sister? Well, blast. There goes my plan for a surprise party.”
Gemma growled. “So you did know! You mother—”
“Get over it, Gemma. Be happy she’s alive. Some people don’t get the privilege of a loved one coming back from the dead.”
She ground her teeth.
After several moments of silence, she tugged again on the rope. “Please, stop. We’ve been traveling since midday, and you poisoned me. You ripped me away from my friends, from Christian. I’m exhausted.”
Colton glanced at her over his shoulder then groaned. “Fine. But try to run, and I will shoot you. And believe me when I tell you that I’m as good as Christian.”
Gemma rolled her eyes as Colton tossed his backsack on the ground. He created a fire ring using rocks and an infernoblock, exactly as Christian had done.
Figures he pretended not to know what he was doing until now.
Given Rami’s belief that Colton was a highly trained operative, he probably had more survival skills than any of them. The hidden outpost proved the Dissent didn’t stick to the confines of Perileos. It made sense why he knew how to take out that slinger—and how he could make bombs.
They’d been so blind.
Gemma seethed, but no matter what he said, she would not grant him the satisfaction of earning her attention or rage.
The world around them was silent, Gemma’s own breaths as loud as a sandstorm’s roar. She could feel Colton’s eyes on her, but she refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she focused on the taste of the minerals in the air, the sound of shifting sand, the scent of the sulfur in the flames.
“Glad you didn’t fall the day I knocked you off the bridge,” Colton broke the quiet. “Reymond would’ve killed me.”
Gemma continued to ignore him.
Colton smirked. “You can hate me all you want, Gemma, but we do want the same thing. I just have the guts to do whatever it takes.”
She snapped her head toward him. “You mean like murdering innocent people?”
Blast. So much for not speaking to him again.
“There are always casualties in war.” He shrugged. “But if you think about it, the Systems are murdering us too. They just take their time doing it.”
Gemma shook her head. If that’s how the Dissent justified bombing citizens and making people disappear, it was no wonder they’d earned themselves the distinction of being a terrorist organization.
It would be different if the Systems sent in armies to attack Perileos, but they hadn’t.
Killing Rami would’ve been terminating the life of one person; it would’ve been making a statement.
Murdering hundreds of people was a completely different scenario, even if they were employed by the Systems. Not every civilian was evil.
Did she want to see her planet recognized as legitimate and her people freed from poverty? Absolutely. But would she sacrifice those same people to justify the cause? No way.
“Tell me, Gemma,” Colton continued, “why’d you sign up with the Dissent?”
She glared at him. “You know why.”
“Nah, it couldn’t purely be because of your vengeance.
You wanted to make a difference, right?” When she didn’t answer, he continued.
“Your way—the ‘no casualties ever’ way—offers the least results in the longest amount of time. But ours? By this time next week, we’ll have control of Zion, and the Systems will be forced to work with us if they want peace. I call that a win.”
Gemma ground her teeth. How could he care so little for his own people that he was willing to murder them?
She’d agreed to help Rami to keep herself alive—and to get revenge on Reymond for using her.
But this wasn’t predominantly about that anymore.
There were much bigger stakes now, and she needed to do her part, no matter how small, to make sure her people didn’t die as a result of the Dissent’s crazed desires.
If they started an actual war with the Systems, it would be Perileos’ people who paid. There were other ways—better ways—of making the government see Reva as a legitimate planet than sacrificing innocents.
Her pulse raced when Colton stood and switched out his pistol for the very knife he’d held to her throat. Gemma shuffled away from him as he approached.
Colton smirked. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He sliced through the ropes that bound her wrists, freeing them.
The breeze that met her raw skin was like claws, but at least the wounds on her wrists would have a chance to scab over. If they didn’t get infected first.
“Set up the shelter.” Colton waved to his backsack with the blade. Without a word, Gemma obeyed.
When she was finished, she reached into her backsack to grab her own.
“Nope. We’re sharing tonight.”
Gemma spun around. “You can’t be serious. They’re barely big enough for one person.”
“Then we get cozy.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Her nostrils flared. If he so much as put a hand on her—
“Relax. I told your boyfriend I wouldn’t touch you, and I’m a man of my word.” He spoke nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t already poisoned her or threatened to shoot her if she ran.
With a growl, Gemma crawled into the shelter. Colton wouldn’t get another moment of her attention.
In the dark, with only the crackle of the fire as noise, her mind wandered to Christian.
She could almost picture his rage that followed after Colton dragged her away.
Christian had been too young to help his mother and spent the rest of his life giving away pieces of himself to protect his sister.
He didn’t know how to not safeguard those he cared about.
And yet, weakened by injury, with Gemma caught between him and his target . . .
A tear rolled across the bridge of her nose and landed with a soft plop on the shelter’s interior floor. She wished she could be with him right now, holding him, consoling him, telling him everything would be okay.
The shelter’s opening parted, and Colton crawled inside. Gemma swallowed the bile that burned her throat the moment his back pressed against hers. Sleep was not going to come easily.