Chapter Twenty-Four
For three days, she’d barely been able to sleep.
Or eat. Every time the door to the prison block had opened, her pulse spiked.
Christian’s come for me at last, she’d think.
But then it would just be Gunner bringing fresh clothes or more books for her to pile in the corner of her cell.
Nadine had tried to help her pass the time with ridiculous stories and obnoxious singing, but Gemma’s obsession with freedom neared hysteria with every transitory moment.
She’d stopped marking time by hours. Now it was breaths, heartbeats, subtle differences in recycled air.
She sat on the edge of her cot, elbows on her knees, legs bouncing. Her thumb pressed hard against the violet tattoo on her forearm that grew more luminous every day. At least, she hadn’t lost control and needed to be gassed again.
The amber ultralights above her cell flickered. Gemma straightened, her eyes fixed on the fixtures. That wasn’t me . . .
The lights stuttered again, throwing brief pulses of shadow across the sterile walls. The hum of the ventilation system hiccupped, stammering like a caught breath.
Slowly, she rose from her cot as the click of multiple pairs of guards paused in front of her and Nadine’s cells.
“Time to go, little lady.” The guard nearest to Gemma’s cell sneered.
No, no, no. A wave of icy cold despair ran down her spine. Christian hadn’t come for her. Had they done something to him?
The front pane of electroglass shimmered, and the guard stepped inside, detaching metal cuffs from his belt. “Wrists.”
Gemma’s eyes burned; a lump formed in her throat. She shook her head. She couldn’t leave now. She needed to wait.
“Wrists, now,” the guard scolded, his voice rising in volume.
“It’s all right, Gemstone,” Nadine said, now outside her own cell. “Just let him do it.”
Thwack. “Shut it, bitch,” a guard from beyond Gemma’s line of sight said.
“Ooh, hit me again. That was fun,” Nadine said, voice too perky.
Thwack.
The guard in Gemma’s cell snatched her wrists, hard. She couldn’t help but yelp in pain as the cuffs were locked in place. The magnetic lock beeped when secured.
Roughly, the guard yanked Gemma into the hall, and a traitorous tear rolled down her cheek. They had to have done something to Christian for him not to come for her. Stars, please let him be okay.
Gemma stared at her sister, who winked before being led down the hall.
It happened so fast Gemma had almost missed it. What did it mean? Was this part of the plan?
Hope reignited in Gemma’s chest like a star in formation.
Seven guards, all armed, escorted the Proctor sisters through the corridors of Zion. Gemma counted twelve turns before they reached the stairwell and summited the never-ending staircases toward the hangar at the top of the building.
The guards didn’t speak or break formation. Everything about their movements was surgical, controlled. Doubt started to fester in Gemma’s heart again. But she’d seen Nadine wink at her.
Hadn’t she?
They were on the seventh flight when the ultralights in the stairwell flickered. One guard looked up. Their squad leader reached for his comms—
The ever-present hum of Zion’s technology was extinguished as the stairwell plummeted into darkness. The guards froze and hit the small torchlights on their vests.
Gemma’s pulse raced, the violet tattoo on her left forearm burning brighter.
The lead guard spoke into his comm. “Command, I need a status—”
A sickening crack split the dark as the front of the man’s helmet shattered, and his body crumpled against the rail.
The six remaining guards whipped their rifles into place against their shoulders. Red beams swept in blind arcs.
Another guard started to speak. “Command, we—”
Chaos broke open around her. Gemma dropped instinctively, her cuffed hands raised to shield her head. Bullets screamed past, each shot breaking apart in waterfalls of sparks upon impact with revarium steel walls.
A shape vaulted over the rail above, landing in a crouch behind one the guards, weapon already swinging. The guard fell hard.
In the next flash of light, Christian’s ferocious gaze met Gemma’s, locking onto her like she was the only thing anchoring him to the floor.
Her heart skipped a beat.
From below, Hawk charged up the stairs, colliding with a guard and driving her back. The soldier screamed as Hawk forced her over the railing.
Nadine twisted toward her escort and slammed her shoulder into his chest, knocking him off balance. She kicked his weapon down the stairwell before ducking and rolling, snagging his sidearm as she moved. A shot to his head, and he fell limp.
Hawk tripped another guard, sending him tumbling down the stairs. Christian’s blade took out the knee of the soldier standing between him and Gemma. A grunt from Nadine and the fading of a scream told Gemma the last guard had gone over the railing.
Christian sprinted to Gemma’s side and dropped to one knee. “Hold still.” He jammed some sort of glowing blade into the cuffs, and it cut through the magnetic locks in one swipe. Her arms fell free.
“I didn’t think you were coming,” she choked.
He cupped the side of her face for half a second. “Such little faith. Let’s go.”
Christian pulled her up and into a sprint as Hawk tossed Nadine’s cuffs over the rail—along with a cerulean orb. The stairwell lit up like a flare.
“Let’s move before the light fades, and we’re blind,” Hawk shouted.
Together, the four of them barreled down the steps, the emergency lockdown already overridden and cameras flickering red at every landing.
Hawk shouted something Gemma couldn’t hear, then Nadine fired a three-round burst to cover them from behind. Christian stayed pressed to Gemma’s side, one arm curled protectively around her.
At last, they reached the ground level and sprinted for freedom.
Guards flooded the entryway from the other stairwell exits.
Hawk peeled left, and Nadine dove right as gunfire tore through the air. Christian forced Gemma to the floor behind a toppled support beam. He dropped to the ground next to her, returning fire with clinical precision. Her heart thrashed in her chest.
Bullets volleyed across the foyer, and Hawk yelled, “Stay down!”
Christian covered Gemma’s body with his own as a blast of heat filled the atrium with light as bright as their sun. At the sound of Zion’s soldiers screaming, Christian wrapped his hand around Gemma’s wrist and dragged her into motion.
They sprinted low and fast until a new squad entered from the nearest stairwell, their guns already aimed and firing.
Christian skidded to a stop, pushing Gemma behind a crumbled barricade.
Hawk shoulder-checked a guard into a pillar, slamming a powerful elbow into the man’s chest and dropping him cold, before hiding behind the pillar himself.
Where was Nadine? Gemma’s heart flopped. What if she was lying in a pool of blood somewhere?
A streak of motion flashed across the atrium’s upper airspace. Gemma looked up to see a sleek, black drone diving through the haze, its high-pitched whine weaving through the smoke left over from Hawk’s bomb. The drone’s frame gleamed obsidian, its wings splayed wide and thrusters flaring.
Suddenly, the drone loosed a scatter of blinding flares before dropping an explosive squarely in the center of the remaining squad of guards.
The explosion erupted with white-hot brilliance.
Systems soldiers screamed, covering their eyes.
Two went down hard, clutching their faces as blood trailed from every orifice.
From behind a shattered wall, Nadine surged forward. Praise Illari. She gunned down one of the stunned soldiers with clean, mechanical efficiency.
“Let’s go!” Nadine shouted as she raced for the exit.
The drone veered low, strafing the atrium with a burst of fire. Smoke bloomed in controlled columns, obscuring the exit just long enough.
Hawk was the next to break from cover, then Christian whipped Gemma off the ground.
Together, they sprinted into the fresh air, where a skimmer waited for them. Its thrusters pulsed low to the ground, its nose angled for a rapid escape. And Imara stood with one foot inside the skimmer while she tapped on a device around her wrist.
“Hurry the fuck up!” Imara snapped.
Gemma’s legs burned. Her lungs ached. But she couldn’t stop.
They reached the skimmer just as Imara dropped another soldier with a tight shot to the neck.
Hawk climbed into the front passenger seat, then Christian shoved Gemma into the back and leapt in after her. Nadine vaulted up and inside, still firing. Imara followed last, sitting in the driver’s seat and slamming the controls with her palm.
“Hold on to something,” she muttered as the skimmer launched.
The acceleration slammed them backward.
Gemma braced against her seat, lungs still raw from sprinting. Her pulse pounded so loudly in her ears; she barely heard the sounds of the wind blowing past them or the static-choked comms blaring over Imara’s dash.
They were on the move. Her friends had come for her.
She was free.
Next to her on the seat, Christian’s breaths were rapid and deep. Sweat glistened across his jaw, and his shirt was stained red at the shoulder. And the way he was looking at her, as if she’d been lost and brought back to life . . .
She opened her mouth to speak, to say thank you. But the words snagged in her throat.
She folded like her strings had been cut, collapsing into him without ceremony or shame. Her forehead met his collarbone, and her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt.
Christian wrapped his arms around her like he was afraid she’d vanish. One hand splayed across her back; the other cradled her head.
His voice was rough when it came. “I’ve got you, Gem. I’ve got you.”
The dam inside her split wide, all the terror and rage and disbelief pouring out in shallow sobs that barely made a sound. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to fall apart. But her body had other ideas.
Her whole frame trembled as Christian held her tighter.
“Comms and rings off,” Imara said, tossing hers out the window. Hawk went next, then Christian reached around Gemma, ripping his off and chucking them into the wind.
“Route?” Hawk asked.
“South, past the city,” Nadine answered. “I’ll let you know when to touch down. There’s a place we can hide until they find the skimmer and think we’ve run.”
“Got it,” Imara answered.
“Karma?” Christian asked.
“She’ll catch up to us in a bit.”
Gemma had so many questions, but the tattoo on her arm shimmered a brighter violet now, and she could feel the hum of power rising in her chest. She needed to be extra careful how deeply she let herself feel emotion, or she would end up hurting the very people who’d saved her life.
Who she loved with her entire being. The questions needed to wait until she had a firmer grasp on her heart and was more level-headed.
Christian pressed his lips to Gemma’s hair when she clung tighter to his shirt and tried to steady her breath. “You’re okay now,” he said. “You’re safe.”