Imara crossed her arms. “All right. So, how do you propose we grab them mid-transfer? That sounds fucking impossible.”
Christian paced. “We need to know the exact time and route of the transfer.”
“I can get that easily. Learning how to hack data logs always came in handy for my clients.”
“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” Hawk joked.
She shot him a playful glare.
“So, once we have that,” Christian continued, “we can plan a split assault. Hawk and I can take down the guards and grab the girls. Can you steal us a skimmer?”
Imara snorted. “Of course I can.”
“Again, why am I not surprised?” Hawk joked.
She stuck her tongue out at him.
“All right,” Christian interrupted, his nerves a second away from fraying. “Once you get the skimmer, I’ll use that EMP thing, then we’ll grab the girls.”
Imara nodded, her eyes full of excitement.
“You think we can trust Theo to get us into the city?” Hawk asked.
“If Nadine vouched for him . . .” Christian sighed. “I believe it. And my sister is stubborn. She’ll make sure they have every detail planned.”
Several heartbeats later, Imara broke the silence. “We only get one shot at this. If something goes wrong—”
“It’s not going to go wrong. I’m getting her out of here, even if I have to take down every single person in this building. I learned a lot of things in the Falaichte. And I will use every last one of them to save her.”
Another short pause.
“So, we’re really doing this, then?” Hawk said. “Turning on the Systems? Never thought that would happen.”
Christian frowned. “You can still back out, you know. I won’t hold it against you.”
Hawk snorted. “Yeah, fuck that. Blood doesn’t make a family.”
“Couldn’t have said it better,” Imara replied.
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, legsbouncing. 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.
