“Yes,” she finally said, the word ringing out like a gong.

Jeth pushed the air from his lungs then drew breath again. At least the others will escape, if not Lizzie and Cora and me. That was better than nothing.

“But I want to say good-bye to everyone,” said Sierra. “Starting with him.”

“As you wish,” Renford said, sounding amused now.

Jeth heard Renford’s heavy footsteps retreating and then lighter ones approach. Soft, gentle hands touched his face. He opened his eyes to see Sierra leaning over him. She stroked his cheek, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Then she leaned down to him, pressing her lips against his. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But don’t give up hope. I’ll find us a way out of this. Or I’ll die trying.” She kissed him, her mouth a balm against the hurt inside him.

Then she was gone.

Jeth managed to raise his head just enough to see her disappear through the doorway with Renford. Hammer moved into view, and Jeth recoiled from the sight of him, wanting to get away.

Only there was nowhere to go.

Hammer stooped over him and said, “Five more days, Jethro, and you’ll be eighteen.” He grabbed Jeth’s chin and pushed his head to the side, exposing the back of his skull. Then he jammed a finger against the implant architecture hole. Pain arced over Jeth’s head and down his spine, sparks flashing across his vision. He couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his throat.

Hammer laughed. The terrible, triumphant sound crushed out the small flame of hope Sierra’s parting words had given him.

Chapter 32

ONCE, WHEN JETH WAS SEVEN, HE SPENT THREE DAYS IN bed sick with the flu. It was the worst he’d ever felt in his life, as if his body had forgotten what it was and how it was supposed to behave. Food made his stomach clench. Any liquid at all set his throat to burning. His head felt like he was wearing it inside out.

Yet despite his misery during that time, his strongest memory was of the way his mother had cared for him. How she had stroked his face with a warm cloth whenever he finished vomiting or smiled down at him as she adjusted the pillows behind his head, pulling the covers over his body as he shivered with fever. He remembered the soft, lulling sound of her voice as she read aloud to him stories of other little boys having adventures, gallivanting around the universe in starships or exploring a jungle teeming with tigers and lions.

She had made those three days bearable. And it was only the memory of her that kept him sane now.

Five days I’ve been locked in here, Jeth thought, running his gaze over the empty, oppressive walls. Maybe six. He’d spent the last hour trying to figure it out for sure. They’d been feeding him at regular intervals, twice a day, as far as he could tell. It was so hard to be certain, though. After the torture, they’d brought him back here, where he’d slept for hours and hours, a bone-deep fatigue settling over him like an iron blanket. Only now was the tiredness finally starting to fade. His muscles still ached as if from strenuous exercise.

Five days, maybe six.

The knowledge of how much time had passed, how close he was to the end, made him want to stand up and pace the length of the cell, but he knew better. He would need all his energy when they came for him.

The waiting was even worse than the torture. He’d spent his waking moments the last few days hoping for some word from Sierra, some sound of tapping on the walls as she prepared to bust him out. He wanted it so badly he’d even started imagining sounds.

Five days. Maybe six.

Had it been that long? It had to be. He was sure of it.

Which means I’m eighteen now.

And old enough for an implant.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the cell, trying to figure out what to do, worry over when they would come driving him mad.

Click.

Jeth opened his eyes, and in a grip of panic he jumped up, his muscles screaming from the sudden movement.

For a moment he was sure he’d imagined it, but then the door slid open. Dax stood in the doorway, smiling in at him. In a second, all the tiredness and ache left Jeth’s body, replaced by rage-fueled adrenaline. He leaped toward Dax, right fist clenched and arm swinging. He would bash the smile off his face.

Dax ducked at the last second and jammed his shoulder into Jeth’s stomach, flipping him over. Jeth landed on his back, gasping for air.

Two pairs of hands grabbed him by the arms and hauled him to his feet. Jeth tried to pull away from them, but like all of Hammer’s Brethren, these two were large and burly.

Dax faced Jeth, shaking his head. “You need to learn how to pick your battles, Golden Boy.”

“No, I need to learn not to trust assholes like you.” Jeth’s voice came out rough from disuse.

Dax chuckled. “That too.” He waved at the Brethren holding Jeth. “Bring him along. Hammer’s waiting to see him.”

The Brethren pushed Jeth down the corridor after Dax. Jeth expected to be taken back to the interrogation room, but Dax turned in the opposite direction. Questions darted through Jeth’s mind. Where were Lizzie and Cora? Was Sierra still here? Did the others leave on Avalon?

He knew there was little point asking for information from a proven liar, but he couldn’t help himself. “Where’s my crew?”

Dax looked over his shoulder. “Gone. Except for Lizzie. They flew out of here almost a week ago, aboard Avalon.”

Jeth wanted desperately to believe it. “Milton, Celeste, Shady, and Flynn?”