Torn Sky (Rebel Wing Trilogy, Book 3) (Rebel Wing Series) (11 page)

Tia screamed as Aris hit the ground. She stepped toward her, but that’s when she saw Baksen. He was frozen in the act of turning back for her—he must have noticed she wasn’t following. Solagun fire hit him as he stood there, staring at her, the realization of what she’d done filling his eyes.

He crumpled slowly.

No, Gods no. Not Baksen.

She collapsed, her knees cracking against the hard, carbonate floor. All around her, men in black uniforms were running, shooting, but all she saw was Baksen, lying in a pool of his own blood. Frantic, she scrambled to his side and pressed her hands against his throat, but they were useless against the rush of red.

She whispered that she was sorry, over and over. She wished she could tell him that she hadn’t wanted this.
Any
of it. That her family was being held hostage—that she was just trying to save them—but there wasn’t time. And it didn’t matter—it was no excuse. She deserved him thinking she was a monster.

His gaze, bitter and glassy, never left her face. Even after his blood stopped pulsing over her fingers and his breath ceased, still he stared.

Tia bent over him, harsh sobs racking her body. Her nightmares had come to find her. They’d snatched her into their dark maw, driven her to a place from which she’d never, ever return.

She’d thought planting the firebombs at the stationpoints they took their S and R victims to would be the worst she’d do. She’d prayed they’d never be detonated, that somehow the Safarans would be defeated before they got a chance to use them. Then Spiro blew.

Tia hadn’t thought she had a soul left to lose after that. But her contacts kept demanding more. The comms from her family showed blank faces tight with terror, reading words they were forced to say. Coded messages asking for specific intel, telling her to betray her own team, threatening torture and death if she didn’t provide answers.

And she’d done it all. Even as it ate at her, even as the ghosts of the dead walked with her. She kept hoping the messages would stop, and then her heart would seize and she’d pray for one more, just to see her parents’ faces again. Her little brother, whose pale hair hung lank and dirty across his forehead. She couldn’t let them torture her fifteen-year-old brother. Milo was so brave; when he’d found out she’d joined the military in secret, he’d asked her question after question, his eyes lit like candles. He wanted to be like her, and he was planning to volunteer for Military during his Selection ceremony when he turned eighteen.

She’d spent two weeks at home while she waited for approval to volunteer again—this time as a woman. In those two weeks, her choice had felt like the smartest thing she’d ever done. Even her parents were proud.

And then a group of Safaran soldiers had snuck into her house in the middle of the night and kidnapped her family. They’d held her down and made her watch as they restrained her mother so tightly her wrists bled.

Even then, at the end of her world, Tia hadn’t realized how bad it would get.

She’d fought the nightmares back, and did as they demanded. She’d reported on Aris’s solo missions to find Elom. Planted the bombs. Shared info about troop movements and the invisible wingjets. She’d convinced herself that there’d be an end. That she’d save Milo, her mother, and her papa, who was in frail health.

She
had
to save them.

But this was too much. It had gone too far.

A body thudded to the ground next to her. Lieutenant Riatta. By the time Tia looked up from Theo’s blank eyes, Milek and Aris were being dragged away, and Yannis and Nesta were dead. Two Safaran soldiers stood over her, their guns drawn. She bowed her head.

Tears poured down her cheeks. She cried for her family, for her team, for everything she’d done and how it hadn’t been enough. Too much and yet not enough. She couldn’t free her family, she saw that now. And she didn’t deserve to free herself.

When the pain came, she welcomed it as her due.

It wasn’t until later, when she opened her eyes to see Lieutenant Santos and Otto standing over her, that she realized her wounds weren’t fatal.

Which meant the Safarans wanted more from her.

She, who had nothing left to give.

Aris wished they’d knock her out. She didn’t want to see the huge welt swelling along Milek’s cheek after a hulking, steel-eyed soldier knocked him to the ground.

She didn’t want to feel the blood seeping from her wrists or wince at each new bruise as her body rattled around in the Safaran wingjet. The soldiers had restrained her legs and arms but done nothing to keep her or Milek secured as the jet rocked and dove. She read the flyer’s intent in every sudden swerve and dip, every unnecessary change of speed. These soldiers weren’t allowed to kill their cargo, but they would punish them all the same.

Most of all, she wished she was unconscious so she wouldn’t have to see Pallas’s face in her mind.

As the jet dipped once again, Aris hung for a split second in the air before slamming into the hard metal ribbing. She grunted from the impact, her whole body aching. Somehow, Milek used the momentary free fall to wedge himself closer to her, so their faces were almost touching. They’d already tried loosening each other’s restraints, but two quick kicks from their guards had disabused them of that plan.

“I still can’t believe it was Pallas. I
trusted
her.” Icy disbelief still coursed through her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Milek whispered. “It’s done. We need to focus on getting out of this.”

“Getting out of this?” Aris choked on the words. Ward Balias probably just wanted the pleasure of killing them himself.

“
Yes.
This isn’t over for us, Aris.” He pressed his forehead harder against hers, straining against his bonds as if he could yank free of them and throw his arms around her. “They took us alive for a reason.”

Aris lifted her chin and cricked her neck until their lips met. She wasn’t willing to give up yet, but she couldn’t help the tears that slid out of her eyes. Milek kissed her back, and she could feel the fear behind his determination. Her tears fell faster.

Pain exploded in her side. She cried out and tried to shift away from the heavy boot that kicked her, again and again.

“None of that now,” the Safaran soldier drawled. His small, piggin eyes appraised her. “This isn’t that kind of establishment.”

Aris glared at him, promising herself that if she ever had the opportunity, she’d kill him. Milek wriggled against her back. And then, suddenly, he staggered to his feet. While their two guards were focused on Aris, he’d worked his hands down his back, around his legs. His restrained hands now in front instead of trapped behind him, he launched himself at the soldier who’d kicked her, wrapping the thin metal shackles around his throat. The man struggled, his eyes bugging. Milek ignored all efforts to disengage him; his face glowed with hatred so intense, Aris almost expected the soldier to die from its venom alone.

The other guard shouted. Aris rolled toward him, banging into his ankles just as he stood up to help his partner, sending him into a heap on top of her.

He elbowed her in the stomach, knocking the breath from her lungs. Above them, the choking sounds sputtered to silence.

“Bitch,” he spat, and then he slammed her head against the floor of the wingjet, and the oblivion she’d wished for swept her away.

***

“Aris,” a voice whispered at the edge of the darkness. “Wake up, Aris. Please wake up.”

She didn’t want to wake up. There was a cruel reality teasing her consciousness, and she wasn’t ready to face it. But every bruise under her skin flamed to life, and the pain wouldn’t let her sleep. With a groan, she opened her eyes.

Metal bars formed a wall in front of her face. Her body screamed as she eased herself up, the floor cold against her palms. She was in a long, narrow hallway lined with cells.

No, not cells.

Cages.

“Aris.”

She turned and found Milek in the cage next to hers. His swollen, bleeding hands gripped the bars so tightly she wondered if he’d been trying to pry them apart.

She scooted toward him, ignoring the knives of pain stabbing her legs, and reached through the bars, cradling his face. His scar had disappeared beneath a crusted layer of blood from a gash in his forehead. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and his lip still oozed fresh blood. Dark blue bruises shadowed his chin and temple. “Gods, Milek,” she breathed. “What did they do to you?”

He leaned his forehead against the bars but didn’t break eye contact. “I killed the soldier who kicked you. The other one wasn’t too happy about it.”

Shadows hid behind his clear, blue eyes. He’d made his play for their freedom. He’d killed. And it hadn’t done them a damn bit of good.

She smoothed gentle fingers through his hair. “We won’t stop fighting.”

“I can’t fight steel bars.” His hand reached up and clasped hers, holding it against the less-bruised cheek. “I love you, Aris.”

“Don’t say it like that,” she said, swallowing back tears. “Like you’re afraid you won’t get another chance.” She was grateful that he was here with her, that she wasn’t alone, even though she should have wished he were anywhere else. Somewhere safe.

Suddenly, a new thought filled her mind, a thread of hope.

“Do you think they’ll send Elom to torture us?” she asked, her voice as fearful as she could make it, in case someone was listening.

His eyes widened slightly. He nodded slowly to show he understood.

If they could get near Alistar, they could send a message back to Mekia. She wasn’t sure if Pallas was alive or dead, but either way, Commander Nyx needed to know who the spy was.

Aris hoped she was still alive. She wanted Pallas to pay for her betrayal in a million different, painful ways.

A metallic scrape filled the air as a door opened. The prisoners in the cages around them startled into wakefulness. Some moaned. Other screamed.

Heavy footsteps.

Aris’s heart pounded. She wasn’t surprised when the four soldiers ignored the other prisoners, heading straight for her and Milek.

She searched for Elom’s bald head, but he wasn’t among them.

“This one,” the lead soldier said, gesturing to Milek’s cell. He stood back to give his men room to unlock the cage.

Aris tightened her grip on Milek’s hands and pressed her forehead to his, stifling a whimper. “No . . . no . . .”

“I’ll be okay. It’s gonna be okay,” Milek murmured, and the words were a tiny comfort, even though neither of them believed anything was going to be okay.

Two of the soldiers hauled on his arms. He kept his grip on the bars for a few seconds, but it was no use. The third soldier cuffed him in the head and he slumped, his arms going slack.

Aris reached desperately for him through the bars as they dragged him across the floor, as if somehow, if she just tried hard enough, she could slip through the narrow space and follow. She could save him.

“Don’t you hurt him!”
Her ragged scream joined those of the other prisoners.

At the sound of her voice, Milek fought his captors more fiercely, growling like a wild thing, his face dripping blood. “Aris,” he yelled, and her name was a cry, a prayer, a promise. It was everything and nothing, a flaming arrow in the dark.

Galena burst onto the balcony without waiting for Kellan to announce her. “Tell me you have something.”

Pyralis was standing with his hands on the railing, staring out into the trees. The first gray hint of dawn lightened the sky. When she spoke, he turned around. His face was pale with exhaustion, and his stricken expression offered her no comfort.

She’d been in Sibetza when the news came through. The flight back to Atalanta had been the longest of her life.

“It’s been four hours, Pyralis,” she said. “My son was abducted
four hours ago
. Tell me you have news by now.” Her voice vibrated with fury.

They’d had so many close calls: Milek’s mission into Safara to rescue her, then Aris; the bombing of Spiro. And every time, somehow, her son had made it out. But not this time.

And that was blighting
unacceptable
.

“Nothing conclusive yet. I’m sorry.” When she opened her mouth, he held up his hands. “I’m trying, Galena, but there’s a lot of confusion. This is what we know: Shortly after the raid on the warehouse began, Alistar was ordered to return to the palace without ever retrieving the weapon. It’s unclear why. Lieutenant Santos made the judgment to not engage, instead flying to the warehouse to assess damage and retrieve survivors. A good call, I think. Ward Balias did not confide in Alistar about the trap, if that’s what it indeed was. We don’t know yet if his cover has been blown. We do know that our fake intel breach was found. The scientist we framed has been detained for questioning. It will take them a while to unravel that thread.”

“And what is Alistar doing now? Does he know where Milek is?” Galena wove around the chairs to the railing. A small candle flickered on the table next to an untouched mug of tea. She should go to Mekia. She needed access to Alistar’s feed, so the
moment
something useful came through—

“He doesn’t appear to be aware they were taken.” Pyralis put a hand on her back and rubbed small circles into the tense muscles. “But I’m sure—”

“Access other sources of intel. We need to
find them
.” His touch was comforting, but she couldn’t stand still, her whole body strung tight as a spring. She stalked up and down the balcony. By degrees, the dawn lightened the space between them.

“Your impatience will not help Milek. We can’t be reckless about this.” Pyralis moved to stand in front of her, forcing her to stop pacing.

“Balias has him. This is because of me. He’ll use Milek’s safety as a bargaining tool.” She fought the burn of tears. “Gods help me, Pyralis, I’ll do whatever he asks to save my son.” She wanted to add that they should have killed Balias when they had the chance, but held her tongue.

Pyralis grabbed her hands. “No. We’ll find another way. We have a man on the inside and a capable Military. We’ll rescue Milek, I promise. We
will
find him.”

“Tell me what I can do,” she said, fighting the urge to yank her hands free. She knew he was trying to hold her steady, but she wanted to be a hurricane. She needed to wreak havoc. “Give me
something
.”

Pyralis, to his credit, was ready with an answer.

“Contact Ward Rosum. Go to Castalia if you have to. Explain to her exactly why she’s going to divert soldiers and resources to us, as well as the
how
s and
when
s. I don’t care what you have to say, or how many times you have to say it. Make her
hear
us this time. Remind her of the child soldiers, the countless rules of war Balias has broken
.
” He cupped Galena’s face in his hands and gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Can you do that?”

“Absolutely.” Her brain clung to this new challenge like a drowning man clinging to a lifeboat. Her terror for Milek didn’t lessen, but the distraction helped her breathe.

Pyralis headed inside toward his office. “I’ll instruct Jax to set up another meet with Alistar. We need to get access to Milek and Aris somehow, and Alistar’s our best chance at that. I’ll inform you as
soon
as I have news.” He called for Kellan then glanced back at Galena. “Two soldiers survived the attack. One is in a coma, the other’s in surgery. When—if—they regain consciousness, Commander Nyx will question them. Maybe they have some idea of where the soldiers took Milek and Aris.”

Kellan hurried into Pyralis’s office and positioned himself in the corner, awaiting instructions.

“I need to make arrangements to travel to Castalia,” Galena said. Already, a plan was forming in her mind. The other dominions had avoided this conflict for long enough. This time, she would make them see the cost of war with their own eyes.

She’d bring the pain and hopelessness to them. She’d make it impossible for them to say no.