Page 11

He saw it now. The same mark they all wore on their sleeves.

Ryneth’s gaze snagged on it. The white spiral with three lines crossing through the center made his stomach drop.

He’d seen that mark burned into the door of his neighbor’s apartment in Sector 7 the night the sirens never stopped. Rumors said it was Concordant who had harvested his entire floor.

Well. This confirmed it.

Ryneth shivered. Shutting his eyes, he forced his breathing to slow. They were still on the ship.

Footsteps closed in, followed by a boot nudging his shoulder. “Wake up.” It was the same voice as the one who’d told the others off.

Ryneth opened his eyes.

The man stood over him, studying him. “Name?”

Ryneth said nothing.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is performance.”

Static flared in Ryneth’s chest. He flexed his fingers, and pain shot up his arms. The urge to lash out pressed hard under his skin.

The masked blond stepped closer, his gaze catching on the faint light twitching at Ryneth’s hands. For a second, he said nothing. Then his mouth curved, though there was no warmth in it. “Well,” he said softly. “That explains more than the hair.”

“What do you mean?” Ryneth asked before he could stop himself.

The blond’s eyes glared behind the mask. “Helion breeds monsters and dresses them up like miracles.”

“Spare me the politics,” the leader said. “I don’t care what he is. I care what buyers pay.”

Hands grabbed Ryneth and hauled him upright. His knees buckled. Someone jerked him forward by the collar. Pain burst through his ribs as they hauled him toward the center of the warehouse.

That was when he saw the cages.

Metal-barred cubes stacked three high. Faces pressed between the bars. Some were crying. Some were silent. Some weren’t even moving.

And Lysa. She was in one of the lower cages, curled against the bars, braid undone. Her eyes widened when she saw him. “Ryneth,” she whispered, reaching through the gap.

Ryneth reached back, but a fist slammed between his shoulder blades. His face scraped the concrete, ribs flaring white with pain.

“No reunions,” a guard sneered. “Move him.”

They dragged him toward a metal frame bolted to the floor. Shackles hung at wrist height, dark with old blood. He was hauled upright so fast his vision blurred.

“Walk,” someone snapped.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Everything hurt, and the blond’s words still echoed through his head.

Helion breeds monsters and dresses them up like miracles.

Light knew what that meant.

“I said move!” A hand grabbed his hair and slammed his head against the frame. Metal rattled when his bound hands brushed the cold bar.

Ryneth winced as static snapped, light jumping along the frame with a sharp crack that made the lamps overhead flicker. For a moment, the current crawled toward his fingertips in a frantic pattern as he fought to hold it back.

The masked blond stepped close and reached out, taking his chin between his fingers. “You’re not even subtle about it.” Turning Ryneth’s face toward the light, he dragged his gaze over him. His thumb brushed beneath Ryneth’s eye. “Pretty. And bright enough to give yourself away.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ryneth tried to pull away, but the grip tightened and held him there. “I’m not from Helion.”