I stagger to a halt.
Fek. My kitchen table has been pushed over. Chairs have been tossed across the room, and the cupboard doors are open, the crockery inside smashed over the floor, and the robotic arm ripped free of its tracks, torn wires still sparking with stunted power.
“Killan.” Lydia pushes against my chest, forcing me to put her down. She looks between the mess of our kitchen and me, two hands covering her mouth. “Harlee and Roan wouldn’t have done this.”
“Roan.” I run down the passageway that joins our two houses and burst into his kitchen. It is trashed, too. His broadcast posters torn from the walls and shredded, the door leading to his and Harlee’s bedroom pulled off its hinges, their mattress slashed, and stuffing strewn over the floor.
“Fucking hell.” Lydia walks to Harlee’s side of the bed and picks through what remains of her trampled clothing. “Who did this?”
I grab Roan’s datapad. The screen is cracked, and it won’t bridge to any of our other tech, which means I cannot check the ground sensors for movement outside. But it remains connected to InGal, and dozens of unread messages fill the screen. Most are from his friends on the LOVE GALAXY Official Fan Chatroom. Some are dated as late as yesterday morning. The newest ones are from minutes ago, withSKYLANDERasking Roan if everything is alright.
I select a message from near the bottom of the list. It’s the only one from Sorin and is marked urgent. It opens to a thread of messages between my younger brothers.
SORIN:
Do you know why the Freighter has returned?
ROAN:
What do you mean?
SORIN:
Atakis has landed outside my cottage.
ROAN:
Ha. Maybe he is sick of Chloe already.
SORIN:
Did Killan say anything about him? His crew is disembarking. This does not feel right.
Fek. I am sending Briar to you.
ROAN:
I am coming.
SORIN:
No. Wait for Briar.
ROAN:
Sorin? What is happening? Are you there?
Sorin?
Sorin!
Panic churns in my stomach. I wrap an arm around Lydia, drawing her to my side. Her eyes are wide, and she is evidently waiting for me to speak. I remember then that she cannot read the Common Tongue, so she will not have understood Sorin and Roan’s messages.
“It is Atakis,” I tell her, keeping my voice low, despite there being no sign of his crew having remained inside.
“Why does your scowl look like that?” Lydia demands, standing on her toes to give herself another inch of height as she examines my face. “What’s Atakis done? Where are Harlee and Briar? I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“He came back.”
