"We need to get to that research station," I said. "We need to contact the Alliance, warn them—"
"And hope we can survive long enough to do it." Serna looked back the way we'd come, toward the crash site where Riuondo and his mercenaries were undoubtedly beginning their hunt.
"We need to move," she said. "Now."
And we ran again, deeper into the jungle, toward the mountains and the research station and whatever slim hope of survival we could find.
Because behind us, hunting through the alien forest, was a man who'd spent a hundred years planning his revenge.
Chapter 9
Serna
We ran.
Branches whipped at my face. Roots tried to trip me. The humid air burned in my lungs, but I didn't slow. Couldn't slow.
Because Riuondo Barkaze was alive.
And if he was alive, then everything I thought I knew for the past century was a lie.
The pieces fell into place as we pushed through the dense foliage, Cullen keeping pace beside me with impressive endurance. Seven candidates had competed in the Prime trials. Seven of the most capable beings the Alliance could produce. And now only two remained.
The pattern was unmistakable once I saw it. Kaell'inth Zir'naex—shuttle accident. Threnara Serac—died in her sleep. Vextaral Morvan—killed by a wild animal. Sollix Van-arstan—lab explosion. Melthis Vaelara—murdered by a robber. Five deaths over a century, each one tragic but explainable. Accidents. Bad luck. Random violence.
Except none of them had been accidents. I knew that now.
"They're all dead," I said, the words barely above a whisper as I stopped against a massive tree trunk. "All the other candidates. Riuondo killed them. Systematically eliminated everyone who could challenge his claim if something happened to me."
Cullen's expression shifted to understanding. "That's what Persico was warning about."
"A century of planning." The full horror of it washed over me. "If he kills me now or forces me to abdicate, he's the only candidate left. The Council would have no choice." The idea made bile rise in my throat.
We started moving again, climbing higher as the jungle thinned into rocky terrain. The foothills rose before us, and somewhere beyond them was the research station. Our only hope.
I was acutely aware of Cullen beside me as we climbed—the fluid way he moved, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the coiled strength in his frame. When he'd kissed me in the jungle, something inside me had ignited like a star going nova. I'd spent a century mastering control over my emotions, my desires, my fears. It was what had won me the trials. What had made me Prime.
But I couldn't control what I felt when I looked at him.
And that terrified me.
"Serna." His voice was quiet, concerned. "You okay?"
I realized I'd stopped moving. "I'm fine."
"You're not." He moved closer, and his hand found mine. "Talk to me."
You. You're what's going on. You're what I can't control.
"I'm thinking about how many people have died because of Riuondo's obsession," I said instead. It wasn't a lie. Just not the whole truth.
Cullen studied my face, and I knew he saw through me. But he didn't push. Just squeezed my hand and said, "We're going to stop him."
I wanted to believe him. But I'd seen what obsession could do. What a century of planning could accomplish.
"Come on," I said, pulling my hand from his before I did something foolish. "We're almost to the foothills."
We climbed higher, the jungle giving way to rocky terrain dotted with scrub vegetation. The twin suns were beginning to set, casting long shadows across the landscape. We'd need to find shelter soon, somewhere we could rest before making the final push to the research station.
