Christian flexed his hands at his sides, swallowing the surge of adrenaline rising in his throat.
They had her. At last, he could get back to Gemma.
“Claude, route?” Ahna asked.
“North access is still stable,” Claude confirmed. “We clear that debris pile, we’ve got a straight path out. Might be tight, but it’s solid. I’ve already marked it on your HUDs.”
“Copy. Imara, drone sweep. Confirm no hostiles.”
“All clear,” Imara replied. “No other heat signatures. We’re alone.”
“Copy that. Let’s get Proctor back to Gallowood House. And somebody grab that bag. Philip’s gonna want to know what they’ve been trading.”
Christian stared after Nadine as Hawk shoved her forward, the woman striding like she wore her shackles by choice. His head buzzed and every joint protested, but his focus had never been sharper.
He shouldered his rifle and limped toward the exit, breathing in the victory.
His suit quarantined and his body fully cleaned of any potential toxin crossover, Christian sat on the edge of his mattress to give Gemma the good news. It was04:00, but he figured she’d rather know sooner than later.
She never answered, even on his third attempt.
Christian jumped to his feet and hurried around his room, packing as many supplies as he’d need to get to the temple, his heart in his throat. His mission here was technically over. Ahna’s team was taking Nadine to Zion—to a real holding cell—in just over sixteen hours. But they’d be fine without him. He’d told Gemma he’d race to her side if she needed him, no matter thecost.
He froze. He’d also promised Gemma he’d make sure Nadine got to Zion in one piece.
Maybe they’d given Gemma something to help her sleep. Or maybe there was a sandstorm disrupting the ability for their comms to speak at such a far distance. Gemma hadn’t called him or sent a message suggesting she was in trouble. Maybe he was just overreacting.
A loud series of three beeps rang through the SARTF earpiece. Christian tapped the device and answered.
“You good to watch Proctor ’til shift change?” Ahna asked.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing at the use of Nadine’s last name. “Proctor” was supposed to be a term of endearment for the woman he loved, and now the word was tainted.
“Yeah,” he answered Ahna. “I’ll head down there now.” Worrying about Gemma would have to wait.
Christian made his way through the dim corridors of Gallowood House. Grave shift was still ticking, and the air was heavy with that pre-dawn stillness. Solar shift wouldn’t know yet that Nadine Proctor sat in the basement. They were in for quite the surprise when they woke.
Ahna stood outside the basement door, conversing with Broadman—the solar shift’s team lead and the man who’d led the first group into Perileos. At the sight of Christian, they paused their discussion.
“Appreciate you keeping eyes on Nadine while we debrief with Philip,” Ahna said to him.
Broadman sized him up as if Christian was nothing more than a pest he wished to stomp.
“Not a problem,” he replied, ignoring Broadman’s stare.
Ahna patted him on the shoulder. “Someone will relieve you at oh-seven-hundred.”
Christian nodded and stepped in front of the electroglass screen to keep an eye on Gemma’s sister.
Like both Cho and Mira, Nadine sat in a metal chair in the middle of the makeshift prison cell, her hands bound and ankles cuffed to the chair’s legs. But unlike Cho and Mira, a strap had been placed low on her waist as an extra precaution, tying her to the chair, as if the Systems expected she’d attempt to escape.
“I know you’re out there,” she cooed, each syllable bouncing like a nursery rhyme. “Come on. We both have a long day ahead of us, so why don’t we sit and chat to pass the time? It looks like there’s an extra chair in here. Though I have to say, it’s not very comfortable.”
When Christian refused to acknowledge her, Nadine began to sing, loud and obnoxious and completely out of tune. It sounded like someone trying to strangle a dune runner. He ground his teeth, but as time passed, her voice only grew rowdier and stronger.
“For fucks’ sake,” he mumbled before opening the door to the makeshift cell.
At the sight of him, Nadine’s crooning ceased.
