Her hands began to shake from gripping the chair. Every second of indecision was wasted time.
“Cinder.” Scarlet placed a hand on her arm. It only made her squeeze the chair tighter. “We have to—”
“Run. We have to run.”
Scarlet nodded. She spun back to the controls. “Iko, prep thrusters for—”
“Wait,” said Wolf. “Look.”
Beyond the cockpit window, a podship was disconnecting from the satellite. Thorne’s podship.
“What’s happening?” Iko asked.
Cinder hissed. “Thorne’s ship is coming back. Comm him.”
Scarlet pulled the comm screen up. “Thorne—report. What happened down there?”
The screen returned only static.
Cinder chewed on the inside of her cheek. After a moment, the static was replaced with a simple text comm.
CAMERA DISABLED. WE’RE INJURED. OPEN DOCK.
Cinder reread the message until the words blurred in her vision.
“It’s a trap,” said Wolf.
“It might not be,” she answered.
“It is.”
“We don’t know that for sure! He’s resourceful.”
“Cinder—”
“He could have survived.”
“Or it’s a trap,” muttered Scarlet.
“Cinder,” Iko broke in, her voice pitched high. “What should I do?”
She swallowed, hard, and shoved herself away from the chair. “Open the dock. Both of you, stay here.”
“Absolutely not.” Wolf fell into step beside her. She could tell that he was in fight mode—his shoulders hunched near his ears, his hands curled into claws, his stride fast and determined.
“Wolf.” Cinder pressed her titanium fist against his sternum. “Stay here. If there is a thaumaturge on that ship, Iko and I are the only ones who can’t be controlled.”
Scarlet latched on to his elbow. “She’s right. Your presence could do more harm than good.”
Cinder didn’t wait for Scarlet to convince him. She was already halfway down the ladder that dropped into the ship’s lower level. In the corridor between the podship dock and engine room, she stopped to listen. She heard the solid closing of the dock’s doors, and the life system pumping oxygen back into the space.
“Dock is secured,” said Iko. “Life system stabilized. Safe for entry.”
Cinder’s retina display was panicking, as it tended to do when she was nervous or afraid. Red diagnostics flared up in the corner of her vision, laced with warnings: BLOOD PRESSURE TOO HIGH; HEART RATE TOO FAST; SYSTEMS OVERHEATING, INITIALIZING AUTO-COOL RESPONSE.
“Iko, what do you see in there?”
“I can see that we need to get some real cameras installed on this ship,” she responded. “My sensor confirms that the podship has docked. I detect two life-forms inside, but it doesn’t seem that anyone has gotten out of the ship yet.”
Maybe they were too injured to get out of the ship.
Or maybe it was a thaumaturge, unwilling to leave the shuttle while there was still a chance they could reopen the docking doors and have everything inside sucked out into space.
Cinder opened the tip of her left pointer finger, loading a cartridge. Though she’d used up all her tranquilizer darts during the fight in Paris, she’d been able to manufacture some weapons of her own—projectiles made out of welded nails.
“We just received another text comm from the ship,” said Iko. “It says, ‘Help us.’”
Everything inside Cinder’s head was screaming at her—Trap. Trap. Trap.
But if it was Thorne … if Thorne was inside that ship, injured or dying …
Clearing her thoughts, she reached up and punched in the dock’s access code, then wrenched down the manual lever. The unlock mechanism clunked and Cinder held up her left hand like a gun.
Thorne’s podship was sandwiched between the second pod and a wall of cords and machinery bolted to the thick paneling: tools for loading and unloading freight, fueling equipment, jacks, air compressors, pneumatic coils.
She inched toward the ship.
“Thorne?” she said, craning her head. She spotted a lump of fabric in the pilot seat—a body hunched over.
Shaking, she swung open the door before ducking a few steps back and aiming her weapon at the body. His shirt was soaked in blood.
“Thorne!”
Lowering her hand, she reached forward, rolling him toward her. “What hap—”
An orange light brightened in the corner of her vision, her optobionics reminding her that her eyes were a weakness.
She gasped and raised her hand again, just as he shot forward. One hand wrapped around her wrist, the other clamped around her neck, his movements so fast Cinder fell onto the floor. For a moment it was Thorne on top of her, blue eyes surprisingly calm as he pinned her to the ground.
Then he morphed. His stare became cold and crystalline, his hair grew longer and lighter, and his clothes melded into the red and gray uniforms of the Lunar royal guard.
Her instincts seemed to recognize him before her eyes did, flaring with violent hatred. This was not any Lunar guard. This was the guard who had held her captive during the ball, while Levana taunted her and threatened Kai, threatened everyone.
But wasn’t he—
A fluttery laugh drifted through the air. Cinder squinted against the bright lights as a woman emerged from the podship.
Right. The personal guard to Head Thaumaturge Sybil Mira.
“I had expected more from the galaxy’s most-wanted criminal,” she said, watching as Cinder pressed her free hand into the guard’s chin, struggling to push him away. The thaumaturge smiled, looking like a hungry cat with a new toy. Stars began to speckle Cinder’s vision. “Shall I kill you here, or deliver you in chains to my que—”
She cut off, her gray eyes flickering toward the door. A guttural roar was followed by Wolf throwing himself against the thaumaturge and trapping her against the podship.
The guard’s hold slackened, indecision flashing across his face as he glanced up at his mistress. Cinder swung her fist toward his jaw. She felt the crunch and he reeled back, his attention back on her.
Cinder pulled her knees up, gaining purchase, and shoved him away. She scrambled to her feet, as Wolf grabbed the thaumaturge and wrenched her back. His lips curled, revealing his implanted fangs.
The guard reached for his holster, drawing Cinder’s focus. He pulled the gun out. Cinder raised her hand.
Two shots fired in unison.
Wolf howled in pain as the guard’s bullet buried itself beneath his shoulder blade.
The guard grunted as Cinder’s projectile found his side.
Cinder pivoted, her aim seeking out the thaumaturge’s heart, but Wolf was between them, a dark spot of blood seeping through his shirt.
Sybil’s face was disfigured by fury as she placed her palm against Wolf’s chest and snarled. “Now then,” she hissed. “Let’s remind you what you really are.”
Wolf snapped his jaw shut. A low growl rumbled through his throat. He spun toward Cinder, his gaze filling with bloodlust.
“Oh, stars,” she murmured, backing up until she was pressed against the second podship. She held her hand steady, but she had no hope of hitting Sybil with Wolf in the way, especially now that he was under the thaumaturge’s control. Gulping, she reached out with her mind, grasping for the familiar waves of Wolf’s energy, his own signature of bioelectricity, but found something brutal and feral clouding around him instead.
Wolf lunged for her.
Cinder switched her target, reaching for the guard instead. It felt natural, the half second it took to claim his willpower and force him into action. In a blink, the guard was between them. He raised his gun, but was too slow as Wolf backhanded him out of the way, sending him sliding between the ship’s landing gear. The gun clattered along the row of cabinets.
Cinder skittered around the podship’s nose. They made eye contact over its roof and Wolf hesitated, his fangs bared. Cinder’s internal warnings were coming so fast they’d blurred together, pointing out escalated heart rates and an unhealthy increase of adrenaline. She ignored them, focused only on keeping the podship between her and Wolf as he prowled back and forth.
But then his entire body flinched. Wolf turned and raced toward Sybil as another gunshot echoed through the dock. Wolf threw himself in front of the thaumaturge, catching the bullet in his chest.
Scarlet screamed from the doorway, a gun in her shaking hands.
Panting, Cinder scanned for a weapon, a plan. The thaumaturge was backed into a corner with Wolf acting as her shield. The Lunar guard was curled up beneath the nearest podship, hopefully unconscious. Scarlet lowered the gun. The thaumaturge would have no trouble controlling her.
Except, the thaumaturge had doubt in her expression and a grimace on her face. A vein was throbbing in her forehead as she cowered behind Wolf.
Cinder realized with some shock that it was almost as difficult for Sybil to control Wolf as it was for her. She couldn’t control anyone else so long as she had him, and the moment she released Wolf, he would turn on her and the battle would be over.
Unless.
Unless she killed Wolf and removed him from the equation entirely.
With the blood pooling and dribbling out of his two bullet wounds, Cinder wondered how long that would take.
“Wolf!” Scarlet’s voice shuddered. The gun was still aimed at Sybil, but Wolf was still between them.
Another gunshot made Cinder jump, the noise ricocheting off the walls. Sybil cried out in pain.
The guard—not unconscious after all—had grabbed the abandoned gun. And he’d shot the thaumaturge.
Sybil hissed, her nostrils flaring as she fell to one knee, one hand pressed against her thigh, already covered in blood.
The guard was kneeling, gripping the gun. Cinder couldn’t see his face, but he sounded strained when he spoke. “She’s controlling me. The cyborg—”
Cinder’s lie detector flickered, unnecessarily. She was doing no such thing, although, had she thought of it before …
Sybil shoved Wolf toward the guard. The energy in the room quivered, waves of bioelectricity steaming and shimmering around them. Sybil had released her power over Wolf. The gunshot had weakened her—she could no longer control him.
Wolf collapsed against the guard, and they both crumpled to the ground. The guard grappled for purchase, keeping a tight hold on the gun as he shoved Wolf away. Pale and shaking, Wolf couldn’t even fight back. Blood puddled around them, slicking the floor.
“WOLF!” Scarlet raised the gun toward the thaumaturge again, but Sybil had already scrambled up, limping behind the nearest podship.
Cinder dove for Wolf, grabbing him under both arms and dragging him away from the guard. He flailed his legs, his heels slipping on the blood, but otherwise offered no assistance.
The guard rose up to a crouch, panting, covered in blood, his own side bleeding from Cinder’s projectile. He still held the gun.
As Cinder stared at him, she saw the choice.
Take control of the guard before he raised the gun and killed her.
Or take control of Wolf and give him the strength he needed to get out of the dock before he bled to death.
The guard held her gaze for one throbbing moment, before he hauled himself up and ran toward his mistress.
Cinder didn’t wait to see whether he was going to kill her or protect her.
Clenching her fists, she blocked out everything around them, focusing only on Wolf and the bioelectricity that simmered around him. He was weak. This was not like trying to control him in their mock fights. She found her will slipped easily into his, and though his body protested, she urged him to stiffen his legs. Just enough to take most of his weight off her. Just enough so she could carry him, limping, into the corridor.
She dropped Wolf against the wall. Her palms were sticky with blood.
“What’s happening?” Iko wailed over the speakers.
“Keep your sensor on this corridor,” said Cinder. “When all three of us are safely out of the dock, shut the door and open the hatch.”
Sweat dripping into her eyes, she rushed back into the dock. All she needed was to get Scarlet and let Iko open the hatch. The vacuum of space would take care of the rest.
She spotted the thaumaturge first. Not ten paces in front of her.
She had a clear shot.
Nerves humming with adrenaline, she lifted her hand and prepared a projectile. She took aim.
Scarlet leaped in front of her, her arms out in a T. Her expression was blank, her mind under the thaumaturge’s control.
Cinder almost wilted with relief. Without hesitating, she grabbed Scarlet around the waist with one arm and raised the other to let off a volley of projectiles toward the thaumaturge—more to keep her at bay than in hopes of doing any real damage. The last of her welded nails struck the metal walls as Cinder stumbled and fell back into the corridor.
She noticed the orange light in her vision at the same moment she screamed, “Iko, now!”
As the corridor door zipped shut, she spotted Sybil racing toward the nearest pod, and a glimpse of feet on the other side of the podship.
The guard’s feet.
But—
But—
Blue jeans and tennis shoes?
Cinder shoved Scarlet’s body away with a scream.
The glamour vanished, along with the orange light in her vision. Scarlet’s red hoodie flickered, transforming into the Lunar uniform. The guard groaned and rolled away. He was bleeding from the wound in his side.
She’d grabbed the guard. Sybil had tricked her. Which meant—
“No—Scarlet! Iko!”
She threw herself at the control panel and punched in the code to open the door, but an error flashed at her. On the other side, the docking hatch was opening. A curdled scream echoed through the corridor, and Cinder almost didn’t realize it was hers.