The knowledge struck in shards.
The pod rattled farther into the unknown.
When it finally stopped, Nepra would be waiting for her.
21
Hell. Not metaphorical—real hell.
Audrey thought she’d tasted hell before with prison cells, psych evaluations, and the night her world burned. This was deeper.
The container shook in that same familiar way as the turbines turned up again.
She couldn’t breathe. Heat pressed in, swallowing oxygen, shrinking the box more with every inhale. The walls scraped her elbows—too close—and the crates around her pressed inward like fists against her chest.
Raw holes in the metal let in faint air, but not enough of it. The container became a tomb, swallowing sound and sanity.
When the portal jump hit, her body revolted.
Audrey vomited what little she had left, bile burning her throat before the box muffled the sound. Afterward came dry heaving—only pain. Sweat soaked her clothes. The heat turned the container into an oven. Each inhalation felt borrowed.
Time meant nothing. Minutes? Hours? Her throbbing heart was the only measure of existence.
Emerson, former ally and now betrayer, disappeared in the smoke. Cary, Audrey’s twin, was alive somewhere in the vast Aggregate. Each mile brought Audrey closer to whatever waited on Nepra. If the Aggregate had taken Mihail alive, it was because he’d stayed behind for her. The thought sat ugly inside Audrey. She didn’t know whether to call it a sacrifice or a strategy.
And Ryker.
The name surfaced through the nausea and darkness. The man who had stolen everything from her waited at the end of this route. Beneath the sickness, one thought stayed clear: panic wouldn’t save her. Her next mistake had to count.
Audrey smiled into the dark. She wasn’t afraid of Ryker like everyone else; she was going to devour him alive if he stood in her way of getting to her sister.
A blast of cool air tore across her face. Light burst into her eyes as the lid of the box cracked open. It felt like being dragged out of a grave. Finally, real air rushed into her lungs. A shock of life.
“Move. Final stretch,” Nikos growled, grabbing her arm and pulling her upright.
She staggered, legs trembling so badly she nearly collapsed. She blinked rapidly, forcing her vision to focus as shadows and moving figures turned into other captives standing around waiting. They, too, looked dead on their feet, but all shared Audrey’s physical characteristics: dark hair and olive skin. Audrey alone bared her teeth, though.
Wind shoved grit into her eyes while she scanned the landscape. It didn’t smell like Earth. The cold carried dust scorched with smoke, and its sky was a muted, bruised yellow. There were no cities she could see, although they had to exist. All that stood for miles was a shabby relay outpost.
Their minds buzzed, but with the suppression cuffs on her wrists, they muted everything to a frustrating hum. Withoutthe cuffs, she could sweep minds, pick out memories, and manipulate their feelings. Before, telepathy made each brain an open book. Now, she was muzzled—abilities blunted, nearly ordinary.
A hand shoved her. “Walk, Simas,” one of Nikos’ men growled. Audrey almost laughed at the recognition inside his eyes—oh, they did not like her. It seemed gold triads weren’t as revered by everyone as they were by Mihail. Some Voíríans considered her a threat.
Good.
The other captives were already being funneled away into different vehicles and into the hands of new handlers. No one explained where they were going, and no one looked back.
A bald man with a dark beard stepped into her space, his breath warm on her skin. Tattoos crawled over his throat and arms like vines with writing she couldn’t read. He was maybe her age. Taller, but not massive. Someone she could probably take if her powers hadn’t been bound and she wasn’t half-dead.
“Well, well. Even covered in filth, you’re something, aren’t you? Number Two never said you were so pretty. It won’t do you any good. But I bet you’ll look even better when you scream.”
“Nassar,” Nikos snapped, “we need her alive.”
“But not pristine, right?” Nassar flashed his white teeth.
Unease pooled low, deep in her gut.
“Welcome to Nepra, Miss Simas,” Basir said, pushing her with a hand heavy on her neck. “Try not to be too impressed by the safe house.”
