Chapter Twenty-Five
The skimmer’s hull was still warm behind them when they veered off a ridge, ducking beneath a wall of scorched brush.
Following Nadine, Christian shoved aside the branches, pulling Gemma through after him.
Imara and Hawk were close behind. Christian’s boots slammed against cracked dirt, his ankles flexing on loose gravel.
“Keep moving!” Nadine called.
Together, the five of them hurried down a narrow slope that curved under a dead pipeline and into the base of a ravine.
There was no path from there, no cover. Just rock and dust and heat.
Christian kept his arm curled around Gemma, guiding her across the uneven slope as Nadine led them east, up the ravine mouth.
The sun was almost below the horizon, but the heat clung to the ground like a second skin.
Christian’s shirt was soaked, a thin layer of red dust clinging to it like paint.
Sweat dripped down his spine. His shoulder burned from the bullet that had nicked him, but he didn’t slow.
All that mattered was getting Gemma to safety.
Behind him, Hawk stumbled and swore.
“Still with us, Patch?” Imara called out.
“Just conducting a very thorough stability check,” Hawk shot back.
At last, they crested the ridge.
Open desert. Rolling red dunes. Nothing to hide behind for kilometers.
Gemma slowed beside him, her breath ragged. “This is suicide. We’re exposed.”
“Without your comms and rings, they wouldn’t know which direction we ran. And we cut back on our trail often enough. Their trackers couldn’t follow us,” Nadine replied. “Odds are, they’ll think we ran toward Perileos. Not away from it.”
Christian didn’t like those odds. “How far?”
“Another kilometer. The mouth of the cave is small. Barely big enough for redhead here to fit through.” She tipped her head in Hawk’s direction. “They’d have to be looking really close to see it.”
Christian pursed his lips. They could manage that. Hopefully.
They took off at a dead sprint. Nadine was by far the fastest in the group, even quicker than him. Proof she’d spent a lot of time on Reva’s surface. It was no wonder the Dissent were so hard to find when they were probably spread out in places no one even knew existed.
Again and again, Christian flicked his gaze to Gemma, who ran at his side with eyes full of tears. He couldn’t wait to have her back in his arms. Stars, he’d missed her so fucking much.
A few hundred meters later, Imara stumbled. Hawk caught her by the waist before she hit the ground.
“Easy,” he said.
“Leg’s locking up,” Imara replied through clenched teeth.
“Switch your gait. You’re leaning too hard right.”
“I don’t need you to coach me, Patch.”
“Don’t fall over, and I won’t have to.”
They moved like that, a tangle of exhaustion and shared grit, across the last stretch of crimson sand.
Finally, Nadine slowed her pace and pointed to a narrow fold in the mountain looming before them. “There. Inside that crevice.”
It looked like just a shadow, but the subtle slope led downward. One by one, they disappeared into the darkness.
The shift in temperature was immediate. A cool relief after the sun’s relentless blaze.
Nadine opened a metal chest that had been cleverly tucked into a gap between stone. From the chest, she withdrew three small torchlights. “You’ll need these until we reach the hideout.”
With torchlights lit, they eased down the slope. The sounds of their boots echoed, mingling with groans, heavy breathing, and the subtle clatter of someone’s gear. Then the cave widened, opening into a small cavern.
It wasn’t massive, but they’d be able to roam freely.
Scavenged insulation panels lined one side.
Supply crates stacked against another. Two battery lamps hung from hooks drilled into the stone.
And from the far side of the cavern, a narrow waterfall streamed down the rock face, pooling at the base into a shallow basin.
The sound of water, gentle and steady, masked everything else.
“Fuck me,” Imara said, flopping to the ground. “You mean Reva actually has running water?”
“You’d be surprised how many underground caverns do,” Nadine answered, turning on the battery lamps. “The Systems just doesn’t want you to know so you can stay beholden to their ‘charity.’ ”
Christian exhaled hard. His spine ached, his shirt clung to him, and his shoulder throbbed. But none of it mattered. Not now, anyway.
“Supplies are here.” Nadine opened a nearby crate. “Blankets. Protein packs. Battery rations.”
Imara unhooked her prosthetic and set it beside her before leaning back, eyes closed. “Well, that sucked.”
Hawk sat cross-legged beside her, his shirt soaked through. “I’ve had worse.”
“That’s because you only have one eye. You remember half as much pain.”
Christian tuned them out, stepping to where Gemma stood in the center of the cave, trembling.
Her whole frame seemed caught somewhere between fight and collapse.
There was a tremor in her hand, and her shoulders curled in on themselves like she was bracing for another blow.
A violet tattoo on her arm glowed faintly, from her fingertips to just above her elbow.
That was new, but it somehow suited her.
He tilted her chin up. “Look at me.”
Her eyes met his, reluctant and heavy. A ring of violet had formed around her pupils, blending with the blue as if the color were here to stay.
“You’re free,” he said quietly.
Gemma blinked slowly, and a tear rolled down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb.
“Come here,” he said, nudging Gemma passed the waterfall into a shallow cavity. Christian flicked on the torchlight and set it next to him on the ground before drawing her into a tight embrace. She held onto him as if he were the rope keeping her from floating away.
When she dropped her head against his chest, his shirt shifted, and hot pain lashed at the wound in his shoulder. He couldn’t keep himself from wincing.
Gemma’s head shot up, and she stepped out of his hold. “Your shoulder . . .” Her chin quivered. “I should get—”
He pulled her back into his arms. “It’s just a nick. I’ll be fine.”
“But if I don’t clean it—”
“Just let me hold you, okay?”
She melted into him.
A lump the size of his fist lodged in his throat. Fuck, he missed this—the feeling of her in his arms, the rightness of it.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” her soft voice said into the silence.
He kissed the top of her head. “Always.”
Moments passed before she spoke again. “Are you afraid of me now?”
Christian relaxed his hold on her enough that she lifted her head. Her watery gaze met his, and the pain—the fear—he found in her eyes nearly severed his heart in two.
“No, never,” he replied. “I told you I’d love you no matter what, and I meant it.”
“Even though it’s not safe for you or Imara or Hawk or Nadine—or anybody—to be close to me?
I am dangerous, Christian. It’s all I could think about as we ran from the skimmer.
In Zion, I thought the worst thing that could happen was being locked away forever, but now .
. .” She shook her head. “I can’t let it happen. I can’t hurt you.”
He frowned, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You won’t. The part of you that’s dangerous is not stronger than the part that’s fighting it.”
“You can’t promise I won’t lose control and have to watch you drop dead because of me.”
“No. But I can promise I won’t let you run just because you’re afraid. We’ll figure this out. It’ll all be okay.”
Gemma took a deep breath and nodded, though the fear in her gaze didn’t fade.
He pulled her back into a hug, and for moments, they just stood there as if time wouldn’t continue until they let go.
Then Imara called out. “Yo, lovebirds. We’re breaking open some rations. Get your asses over here and eat something.”
He felt Gemma’s mouth move into a smile against his chest. “I would’ve loved to see her boss you around like that when you guys were in Perileos.”
He chuckled. “She did try to break my finger at one point. She’s terrifyingly good at inflicting pain to get what she wants.”
“I’d say don’t tell her that, but I’m sure she already knows.”
When he looked at her, the soft smile had remained on Gemma’s beautiful face.
His heart fluttered.