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Striker nodded, but he wouldn’t be happy until Wren was in his arms. He had to feel her, touch her, and make sure she was a real.

The Apocalypse shuddered as an airlock attached to the Gente ship.

“Got you, you bastards,” Rexx muttered.

“The airlock is secure,” ELVIS said. “I’ve overridden the door lock. The way is clear.”

“Let’s go,” Cleo said.

Striker led the charge, Rexx right behind him. Cleo was sandwiched between Rexx and Blaze. She knew how to fight, but why risk her safety when there were Apexian fighters on board?

He reached the door and stopped. He glanced over his shoulder. “Is everybody ready?”

“Let’s get the door open,” Cleo said.

They were poised, their weapons raised at the door, expecting to meet an unfriendly greeting party.

Striker yanked the door open and poked his head in. There was no one on the other side.

He ducked into the corridor and checked both ways. “There’s no one here.” He stepped inside the Gente ship, flanked by Blaze and Rexx.

There was an emergency light flashing in the corridor.

“It’s a system alert.” Blaze studied the control panel by the door. “The ship’s systems are stable, though.”

“This way. I hear something,” Rexx said.

They moved in formation along the corridor, Cleo in between them so her back was covered.

Striker rounded the corner. Two Gente were unconscious on the floor, their hands tied behind their backs.

“What the hell’s going on?” He strode over and stared down at the Gente.

“It’s Wren, Eden, and Daisy.” Blaze grinned. “They’re on the loose. They’re the reason the ship’s changed course.”

One of the Gente groaned, and his eyes fluttered open.

Striker pressed his weapon against the side of the Gente’s head. “Where are the three Humans you abducted?”

He groaned again but didn’t say anything.

“Answer me or you die. Where are they?”

The Gente glanced at the gun and swallowed. “I don’t know. On the loose somewhere. If we knew they’d be this much trouble, we’d have never taken them.”

Striker’s heart soared into his throat. Wren had escaped. She was okay.

“Let’s move to the cockpit,” he said. “If they have control of the ship, they could have holed up there.”

The group moved, checking any rooms they came to for signs of the Gente, but the place was eerily quiet.

Striker reached the cockpit and tried the door, but it was locked on the inside.

He pounded his fist against it. “Wren, open up. It’s Striker.”

A few seconds later, the door slid open. He was met with a gun in his face.

Eden stood inside the cockpit, blood trickling down her temple. “Have you found them?”