Chapter Forty-Eight
“Well, that was unexpected,” Colton said, staring at Gemma as the embers of his bomb continued to glow. “Looks like you have some explaining to do.”
The dome around Gemma’s body disappeared the moment she lowered her hands. She sprung to her feet, anger overriding her every thought. “You bastard!”
Colton cocked his head. “Interesting.”
Gemma shoved him. “You were going to let them kill me!”
“They don’t kill people, querida. They feed off your nightmares for a little while. What I’m more curious about is where that little gift of yours came from, especially since your eyes are now all purpley.”
Her nostrils flared as she slammed her fist into his face.
Colton stumbled backward, laughing. “That’s seriously all you got?”
Gemma growled and stomped toward him. Colton smiled, readying his stance, knowing the fight was one-sided.
Gemma knew it too. He’d literally grown up in a home that encouraged fist fights. She’d be dumb to think she could win against Colton.
But fury and rage were untamable beasts, and they had taken control.
Gemma went in for the attack and yanked Colton’s pistol out of his holster. His smile fell into a sneer when Gemma cocked it and aimed it at his chest. She might be a terrible shot, but at this close of range, she doubted she could miss.
“Not a good choice, querida,” Colton said, dropping his hands to his sides.
He glared at her, his dark brown eyes calculating and careful. Gemma could tell he was assessing her and whether or not she had the strength to pull the trigger. Truth was, even she wasn’t sure.
He’d been playing nice until this point, but with every millisecond that passed, his eyes filled with such hatred that Gemma’s hands almost shook.
He would never reveal the Dissent’s plans.
He’d been amongst them for nine years, since his childhood.
If it came down to honoring his word to Christian or his oath to the Dissent, he’d betray Christian in an instant.
The only way Gemma would stop what was coming was if she killed Colton herself, poison be damned.
This wasn’t just about revenge anymore. Her vow to avenge her sister’s murder had come with the added benefit of helping her people. Nadine might not be dead, but Gemma could still help keep Perileos from the crazed desires of the Dissent.
Gemma put her finger on the trigger.
Colton moved so fast; he was almost inhuman. Whacking her hand with his forearm, the gun flew across the sand. His open fist cracked into her cheekbone, and Gemma’s head knocked backward. She grunted, blood rolling down her cheek.
“I warned you—” Colton started to say, pulling his dagger from its sheath.
Gemma kicked him in his gut as hard as she could. Colton fell backward, the shelter collapsing beneath his weight. His knife spun through the air before clattering to the ground.
In seconds, Gemma had the blade in her grasp. She leapt, aiming the point of the dagger at Colton’s heart, but he swiped a leg, knocking hers out from underneath her. She fell hard on her back, gasping when air left her lungs.
Colton popped up onto his feet and ripped the knife from Gemma’s hand. “Stay down,” he roared.
Gemma’s hands clenched into fists. Sitting up, she aimed her punch between Colton’s legs—
A crack sounded before the wave of misery exploded across her face. Gemma toppled backward, clutching at her nose as blood gushed from her nostrils.
Compared to a fighter like Colton, she was nothing but a child still learning to walk.
Gemma withdrew her hands from her face—her fingertips were stained with purple blood. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
Colton sighed, pausing for a moment to notice the color of Gemma’s blood on the back of his hand before wiping it on his trouser leg. “Now, look what you made me do. I promised Christian I wouldn’t hurt you, and you made me break that promise.”
“Fuck you,” Gemma spat between bloody teeth.
“I suppose I wouldn’t be against it, if you were interested. We do have one more night together, just the two of us.”
With the back of her fist aiming again for his scrotum, Gemma tried to jump up. But Colton stepped on her shoulder, holding her supine against the ground. She cried out at the grinding in her joint and clawed at his boot.
“Do not test me, Gemma,” he seethed. “Vagabunda maldita. I have spent more days out here than your loitersack of a boyfriend, so I will get you back to Zion in one piece. But if you try to kill me again, there won’t be enough pieces of you left to put back together.”
Colton forced Gemma to sleep with her wrists bound and her ankles tied together the rest of the night. With all her limbs restricted, the nightmares that found her were unlike any she’d had before, even without the ghouls’ help, and by the time she awoke, she tasted blood.
He marched her through the desert of Reva at the hottest part of the day. As the scorching sun beat down mercilessly upon the unforgiving sands, each step was a torment, the searing heat seeping into Gemma’s bones.
Her broken nose throbbed with every jostle, and with one eye swollen shut from the hit to her cheekbone, the world around her blurred into a nightmarish haze of agony and despair.
The wounds on her wrists seeped again, purple blood flowing into Gemma’s gloves, the fabric clinging to her skin.
She should probably be more worried about the change in color of the cells that kept her alive, but each breath was a struggle.
Each step was a fight for survival. What happened in the temple was the least of her concerns.
The rope Colton yanked on rendered her powerless, a captive dragged on a relentless march to an unknown fate.
She couldn’t give up. She had to see Christian again—see her sister again.
When Zion finally came into view in the distance, Gemma cried.
Every muscle in her body ached; the electroprod wound the Kaizen had given her screamed in boiling agony; and the blisters on her feet had long since opened.
But she’d made it. No matter how many times her mind had begged her to give up and die, she’d fought back and won.
Soon, Christian would find her. She’d go to the infirmary and be back on her way to feeling better, and everything would be okay again.
Colton stopped half a kilometer from the entrance and yanked off Gemma’s helmet. “This is far enough. If your little boyfriend’s as good a tracker as he claims, he’ll find you here.”
“But the antidote . . .” Gemma’s voice was weak and brittle.
Colton snorted. “There was never any poison. But it made him let you go, didn’t it?”
Gemma tried to glare at him, to scream she would kill him if she found him before Christian did. But the butt of Colton’s rifle found the side of her head before she had the chance.
A strong, pungent smell forced Gemma awake.
She gagged into the red dirt beneath her face. Gentle hands touched her cheek, one eye fluttering open to see Imara crouched over her.
They’d found her.
“I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna fucking kill him!” Christian screamed.
“Take it easy,” Hawk said.
“I’ll take it easy after I have my hands around his throat. He said he wouldn’t touch her!”
“It was my fault,” Gemma tried to squeak out, but no one replied. She could barely move. Maybe her voice didn’t work.
“Let’s go to the infirmary,” Imara said, turning to Hawk. “You carry Gemma.”
“No, I’ll get her,” Christian said, followed by a scuffling of feet.
“You have one arm. Do what Imara says. You lead the way, and we’ll be right behind you,” Hawk comforted.
Christian swore, then strong arms lifted Gemma off the ground.
She cried out in pain before she fainted.
Cool air wafted across Gemma’s face.
Her eyes flitted open to the sight of white ultralights against a white ceiling. An infirmary ceiling. She’d stared at enough of them over the years to recognize one anywhere.
Groaning, she sat up slowly. Her head still ached, but the rest of her didn’t hurt anymore.
Christian shot out of a nearby chair. “Oh, thank the stars.” His voice cracked as his arms wrapped around her. His cheek rested on top of her head. “They weren’t sure if the nanobots would work against all the swelling in your skull.”
Gemma hugged him back and realized his broken arm had been healed. He too must’ve been given nanobots upon their return.
Christian sat on the bed and clutched her hand. Pools of tears were at the bottom of both eyes. “Did he . . .”
The shot to Gemma’s heart stung more than the Kaizen’s electroprod. He couldn’t finish his question, but she knew what he was asking.
Had Colton forced her like his mom had been?
A solitary tear dripped from his eyelashes when Gemma cupped his cheek with her free hand. She brushed the tear away with her thumb. “No, that didn’t happen.”
He let out a slow breath as his eyes closed.
Gemma brought his forehead to meet hers.
This was the first time she’d truly glimpsed the damage that witnessing his mother’s attack and death had done to him, the dark mark it had left on his soul.
Oh, how she wanted to go back in time, to hold that younger version of him and let him cry and tell him everything would be okay.
“I’m all right, Christian. And it’s my fault. I tried to kill him. I should’ve done as he asked.”
Shaking his head, he met her gaze with his own fierce one. “You need to stop doing that. Don’t take the blame for the things people do to you. There are other ways of defending yourself without beating someone senseless. Colton knows that.”
Gemma kept her face impassive, knowing he was right, though her gut didn’t believe him yet.
Christian squeezed her hand before rising to his feet. “I’m going to tell the doctor you’re awake. See if they’ll let you get out of here.”
She nodded. A hot shower and a long sleep in her own bed would be amazing.
Christian paused at the door, his back toward her. “At the outpost . . . I never did tell you I loved you back. I’m sorry.”
Gemma flinched. She hadn’t thought anything of it until now. Colton had dragged her from the outpost so fast that Christian barely even had the chance. “It’s fine. You were emotional.”
His shoulders drooped. “So much so that I’d forgotten how to breathe.”