Chapter Twenty-Two
Gemma lay on her cot, one arm draped across her stomach, the other lifted so the light could catch the faint shimmer of the tattoo marking her skin.
It had crept higher since leaving the temple; the violet threads now curled past the crook of her elbow.
She trailed them with her fingertip, over and over, until a voice carried from just outside her cell.
“Yes, sir,” the guard said, “the cell is prepped and ready. Next to Gemma Proctor, are you sure? Yes, sir.”
Gemma’s pulse ticked higher. Had they found Nadine?
Her stomach sank. But if it was Nadine, that meant she’d be leaving soon. She’d have to say goodbye to Imara, Hawk, and Christian, and when he saw her in here and heard where she was going . . .
Her eyes filled with tears. He’d saved her from herself, had given her a reason for living when all she’d wanted was to stay in the darkness, and now she’d never see him again.
Maybe it would be better if she didn’t see him one last time, if they could just remember each other the way they were before she’d gone back to the temple.
The door to the prison block buzzed before opening. Gemma sat up, holding her breath.
Two black-suited guards passed by the electroglass panel at the front of her cell. Behind them walked a taller, older officer. And flanking him were two more guards, their hands gripping the shoulders of the prisoner they led between them:
Her sister.
Gemma’s pulse ticked up as her stomach twisted. It was finally happening.
Nadine held her head high, chin lifted like she was arriving at a gala rather than a prison cell.
Her dark brown hair had been tied back; her blue eyes were sharp and defiant.
She wore the same white jumpsuit as Gemma, though hers was stained at the collar with a spot of blood.
Her hands were bound in front of her, wrists cuffed with reinforced magnetics.
Her ankles were shackled as well, though she didn’t limp—she sauntered. Every step was controlled rebellion.
Outside her cell, Nadine’s lips curled. “Well, this is charming. Do we get room service?”
The older officer’s face remained completely impassive. “Place your palm against the electroglass.”
A moment later, one of the guards shoved Nadine forward and out of sight, hidden behind the frosted panel that separated her cell from Gemma’s.
“Careful. You’ll wrinkle my outfit.”
The older officer gave a short, clipped command. “Seal it.”
Seconds later, the soldiers marched away.
Gemma’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t seen her sister since that night in Perileos, when Gemma had said goodbye to her sister as Nadine had left for her Trials. Now, she was five feet away, separated by one cell wall and a thousand unspoken horrors.
“You look like shit, Sis,” Nadine said.
A strangled laugh broke free. Gemma thought she’d be angry; she thought she’d want to kill her. But all Gemma wanted right now was to hug her sister and tell her how much she’d missed her.
“Hey,” Nadine continued, her voice softening, “come closer to the glass.”
Gemma wiped her face and stood, her legs shaky beneath her. She moved to the edge of the frosted electroglass pane and sat on the floor, leaning her shoulder against the panel. Nadine mirrored her position a moment later, the outline of her profile just visible.
For a long beat, neither spoke. Then softly Gemma asked, “Why?”
Nadine was quiet. Too quiet.
“Why did you make me mourn you?” Gemma’s voice broke. “You made me think you were dead.”
“I know,” Nadine said, and this time, her voice held no edge. “I hated doing that to you. But it was the only way.”
“The only way to what? Destroy my entire life? Why didn’t you tell me you’d joined the Dissent?”
“You were trying so hard to honor Mom’s memory by working in that infirmary. How could I ruin that for you?”
“So instead, you just waited until you’d left me behind and pretended you were murdered?” Gemma hissed. Her hands curled into fists. “I tried to kill myself because of you. I was tortured because of you. Reymond sent me to my death because of you.”
“Be angry at me all you want, Gemstone, but my reasons were to protect you.”
“Don’t you dare call me that,” Gemma snapped, the pain bubbling into fury. “You weren’t protecting me. You wanted me to be so angry at the Systems that I would kill for you. You said so yourself.”
“No, I said you were too soft.”
“That’s the same thing!”
“It isn’t.” Nadine’s voice was growing irritated. “I needed you to toughen up because getting you to fight with the Dissent was the only way to keep you alive.”
“That’s a load of shit.”
“Is it? You know the kind of radical Reymond was. He was ready to call an all-out war against the Systems. Who do you think would’ve suffered? You. The people in Perileos. By convincing him to use you as an inside man, he put off the attack. You never would’ve died in Zion. Colton was loyal to me.”
“Colton nearly killed me! Did he tell you that? He marched me across the desert and beat me within an inch of my life.”
“And I nearly had him killed for doing it.”
“Oh, shut up. All of this is your fault. Rami knew you’d sent someone else. And it was during my search for him—for Colton—that I turned myself into this. Now, I’m locked in a cell, on my way to Capital City, and I wouldn’t be in here if you hadn’t made me angry enough to try to assassinate Rami.”
“To survive in this place, you have to be angry. You have to be willing to burn things down. I knew you wouldn’t get there unless you had a reason.”
“So, what was your reason for murdering hundreds of people on Oranos after the uprising here in Zion, then, hmm?”
“The Dissent did not start the battle on Oranos.”
“Again with the shit.”
“I’m serious, Gemma. That wasn’t us. Reymond was supposed to die in Zion so that I could take over, and someone let that slip. So the Systems came after me on Oranos, and my men did what they had to make sure I survived. I barely did.”
“Okay, but how about the hundreds of people who mysteriously ‘disappeared’ from Perileos?”
“Nobody ‘disappeared.’ They joined our ranks and went into hiding. We have cells all over Perileos now. Look, I am sorry for what I did to you, but it was for a good reason.”
A good reason? Gemma screamed inside her head.
Her fists clenched as a ferocious heat overtook her body from head to toe. Her chest constricted. The tattooed veins on her arm grew a brighter shade of violet and began to pulse in time with her sprinting heartbeat. Anger surged through her like lightning on a wire—too fast, too bright to stop.
The overhead lights flickered. One exploded. Then another. Then the entire corridor went dark as glass and sparks rained like stars.
“It’s happening!” one of the guards shouted. “Gas her!”
A loud hiss sounded, and her cell filled with white smoke.
“Don’t fight it, Gemstone,” Nadine said. “Just breathe it in, and you’ll get less of a headache.”
Before Gemma could tell her to eat sand, everything went black.
The flat in Zion felt different now. Colder. Too quiet.
Christian stepped inside, letting the door slide shut behind him, and just stood there.
The place still smelled faintly like her.
A soft flowery scent, and something warm and sweet he could never name.
Her blanket was still slung over the arm of their small sofa.
Her slippers were tucked neatly by the wall.
But she was gone.
He drifted through the tiny space, past the kitchenette where she’d cooked, through the opening to their bedroom.
The bed was still made, though slightly rumpled, as it always was after Gemma was the last one to wake.
He walked passed it without touching it, afraid that if he did, something inside him might break.
He hadn’t been able to speak to her yet, but he knew where she was.
She should’ve been here.
He could almost see her moving through the flat, her hair damp from a shower, her eyes tired and soft. The memory of her laugh echoed off the walls like it had a right to still exist here.
Christian slid down the wall of their bedroom and let his head fall into his hands.
How the fuck was he supposed to pretend this was normal?
How was he supposed to stand in briefing rooms and salute his superiors while the woman he loved lay behind electroglass with a fucking tranq port above her head?
His pulse pounded.
His jaw clenched.
He was going to get her out. No matter what it cost.
The buzz of his doorbell broke the silence. He pulled up the camera feed onto his eyepiece.
Rami.
Fuck me.
When Christian opened the door, Rami’s smile was tired but polite. “May I come in?”
Christian hesitated before nodding once and stepping aside.
Rami entered with his hands folded behind his back. “I thought I’d stop by and check on you. You’ve been through quite a bit lately.”
Christian gave a humorless laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”
Rami turned to face him, regret lining his eyes. “I’m sorry about Gemma. I wish there was more I could do.”
Christian said nothing.
“I wanted you to hear it from me,” Rami continued. “Gemma’s situation is . . . complicated. She’s not being treated as a criminal. Not yet. But her condition is unstable. She poses a risk to herself and to others. You understand that, don’t you?”
His throat tightened. “She’s not dangerous.”
“She’s powerful. And we still don’t understand the extent of what’s changed inside her. Given how she behaved when the Dissent attacked Zion, the president has requested she be transferred to Capital City when we move Nadine.”
Christian’s legs almost gave out. He wanted to argue, to fight, to demand Gemma’s release. But if he did that now, the plans they made to free her would be destroyed.
He forced his face to remain stoic, though his hands clenched at his sides.
“I’m not telling you this to scare you,” Rami said, his expression morphing from concerned adviser to apathetic director and game master. “I know what she means to you.”
Christian’s jaw ticked.
“But you’ll fall in love again,” Rami said, stepping closer. “This doesn’t have to be the end for you too. Stay loyal to the Systems, follow your orders, and the pain will pass with time. Don’t do anything rash.”
Christian swallowed the fury building in his chest. He forced himself to nod. Forced the words to leave his mouth. “I won’t.”
Rami clapped him once on the shoulder. “I’ll let you get back to your evening, then. We’ll debrief in the morning.”
As the door slid shut behind him, Christian turned away. His jaw was clenched so tightly that his teeth hurt. His fisted hands shook. His nostrils flared—
With a roar, he turned and punched the metal wall again and again until the surface dented and the skin on his knuckles split.
Blood smeared the wall. His breath came in short, animalistic bursts.
His eyes burned as he flopped onto the sofa and grabbed the half-crushed blanket Gemma always used. He held it to his chest for several heartbeats, breathing in her scent. She should be here in his arms. Not in some fucking cell.
He threw the blanket across the room.
Christian pressed his hands to his face and dragged them down slowly. He forced his breathing to even out. He’d spent his whole life learning how to fight through pain. This was no different. He’d wear the uniform. He’d play the role. He’d earn their trust one nod, one salute, one lie at a time.
And then he’d tear down every wall between her and freedom. It didn’t matter anymore what the Systems promised him.
He wouldn’t stop fighting until he had her.