Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
His tongue felt thick in his mouth. Every muscle in his body felt weighted with stone. The fucking pink drink—whatever chemical cocktail Thune had dosed them with—was dragging him down like a fucking black hole. His hands shook as he tried to navigate the bizarre circular com panel. None of the symbols looked familiar.
Beside him, Noelle was unconscious, her head lolling to the side, her dress slipping down one shoulder. In the seat behind him, Bright was slumped over too—his breathing shallow.
I need to get them home. Have to. Have to! Burn raged at himself.
He forced his hand up, fumbling his fingers across the glowing com sigils. His breath came ragged, each inhale burning in his chest.
“Come on…come on…” he muttered thickly.
A high-pitched ringing filled his ears. His heart hammered so hard it made his vision pulse.
If he didn’t call the Mother Ship in time…the shuttle might do the worst possible thing—activate its own homing program and carry them straight back into Thune’s claws. Even without hitting the Homeward Bound button, the shuttle might still default to its owner.
And if they were dragged back…
He’ll torture us. Torture her. Then eat us. Fuck. Not gonna let that happen. I’ll crash this ship into a star first.
Finally—blessedly—one of the sigils under his palm lit up red.
A channel opened.
There was a burst of static, then—
“This is the Kindred Mother Ship, communications officer Commander Ravli speaking, how can I help you?” a crisp voice answered.
Burn exhaled harshly.
“Hello? Are you—”
“Shut up and lishen,” Burn slurred.
Gods. His words weren’t even coming out right. His tongue twisted everything sideways. A wave of humiliation shot through him—what if they thought he was drunk? What if they dismissed him?
No. Fuck no. They have to hear me. They have to understand or we’re dead.
“I’m…in…trouble,” he said slowly, forcing each word out like lifting boulders. “Bad…trouble.”
There was a pause.
“Who is this?” the warrior on the other side sounded suspicious—annoyed. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No joke!” Burn exclaimed, voice cracking as another wave of dizziness washed over him. “Name is Burn…Burns Brightly. Twin…Kindred.” He swallowed hard. “Captured…by pirash…I mean pirates. Sold to a…a Trollosh…I mean a Trollox. Stole his fucking ship…need…need you to folsh…fold spash.”
His vision blurred again—stars streaking sideways in messy trails. His stomach lurched.
“Are you being serious?” the officer demanded sharply. “You want us to fold space for a Trollox ship?”
“If you don’t…I’ll be…dead,” Burn managed, gripping the steering yoke so tight his knuckles turned white. “All my friensh…dead. Please…need…help…”
His throat tightened.
Noelle can’t die. Bright can’t die. Don’t let me fuck this up…gods, don’t let me fail them…
“I can barely…barely work the controls,” he muttered, voice fading. “Please…been…drugged…”
His words were devolving into slush. He didn’t even know if they were intelligible anymore.
The officer on the line barked something—too fast for Burn’s lagging brain to process.
Then—
Like a miracle—a crimson gash tore open the space directly in front of the shuttle. A jagged, glowing slit, horizontal and humming with raw power. The Fold.
Burn could have cried with relief.
Holy fuck, they opened it—they actually opened it—thank the gods—now get us through—get us through before—
His grip slipped on the yoke. His arms felt like water. The shimmering red portal blurred, doubled, then tripled in his vision.
He fought it. Forced every ounce of strength left in him into one last motion…one last push.
With a hoarse sound, he shoved the steering yoke forward.
The shuttle lurched violently, engines roaring as it shot toward the Fold.
For one glorious second, they were aimed straight at salvation.
We’re gonna make it. We’re actually—
But the pink drink surged again—hot and dizzying—flooding him with weakness so complete Burn’s limbs gave way.
His eyes rolled back, his body slumped…and then everything went black.
71
NOELLE
The first thing she became aware of was the sound.
It was a soft, rhythmic beeping somewhere nearby—steady and reassuring. It pulsed in the distance like a heartbeat made of light and machinery.
The next sensation was warmth.
Noelle felt it blooming around her like a cocoon—thick, plush blankets tucked close around her and a pillow cradling her head. She was lying on something soft. Not metal. Not stone. And definitely not the black mattress in Thune’s filthy play room.
This is a bed, she realized dimly. A real bed. Clean, comfortable and safe.
Above all, safe.
The air around her was pleasantly cool, but not sterile. It smelled faintly of disinfectant but not a harsh one—it was something organic and natural, she was sure.
Noelle shifted under the covers and a soft sigh escaped her lips as her body protested. Her limbs were heavy, her head woolly with fog. Every muscle ached as though she’d run a marathon in zero gravity and then been hit by a space truck.
She tried to raise a hand to rub her eyes… and froze.
No. No—wait—don’t touch! You’ll get shocked again!
Her instincts screamed at her, and she flinched automatically, hand jerking away from her own face.