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AFTER A BRIEF SEARCH OF THE DORMS for any sign of who might have been watching them, fatigue had eventually overwhelmed her, and she’d retreated to the safety of her apartment. However, in the silence of her rooms, the current still permeating her body made her unable to sleep. The hackchip rotated between her fingers—the same one she’d used to gain access to the dataport during the lux party upstation.
With all the time she’d spent preparing for the fight, there had been no time to figure out her father’s last words. Not for the first time she wondered what her life would be like if she were able to clear the Petrov name. There was a chance Commander Grey would make reparations and grant her a free space jump to the planet’s surface so she could start over. And perhaps, just perhaps, things with Daxton could be different.
Like that would really happen, she chided herself. Cerise had money, fame, looks, and status. And what did she have to offer? Street smarts? Half-decent welding technique? Not exactly skills that would fit in at the New London palace.
Not to mention the way Daxton had looked when she’d tried to get him to go back upstation. It was a huge misunderstanding, but one she felt had made their connection even more tenuous.
Something scraped against her apartment door, and Tesla froze. How many people had Yosef sent to finish her off? She crouched, her body protesting as she grabbed a knife from the kitchen. The vidfeed on her door panel showed an empty stoop, but the scratching sound continued. Then, ever so quietly, a small voice cried out.
“Tesla? Are you there?”
After months of hearing those same sniffles, Tesla knew it could only be Ming. She unbolted the door to find the boy sitting on her doorstep, a container of milk clenched tightly in his hands.
“What are you doing out after curfew?” she said, glancing over the boy’s head to see if anyone else lurked outside. “Where are your parents? Where’s Ren?”
The boy’s lip quivered, and he dissolved into tears. “They took him, Tessie. The doctors came and took Ren and everyone away. I d-didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
Oh stars, no. Tesla raised her eyes over the boy’s head and saw it: a bright yellow circle bisected by a single line. A quarantine mark. The same that had been drawn over her own door the last time she had ever seen her mother.
“Was Ren the one who got sick?” she asked, kneeling down to take the boy in her arms. Ming pressed his face against her neck, his small arms grasping her tightly. Tesla felt him nod, and her heart caved inward. “But if they took everyone into quarantine, why are you out here?”
A chubby finger pointed toward the milk. “Mama sent me out for it hours ago, because the baby was hungry,” he cried, wiping his running nose onto his stained sleeve. “We were careful, Tessie. Mama and Papa were so careful when Ren got sick. Said we couldn’t go near him at all.”
Tesla made a soothing sound as she felt Ming’s forehead with the back of her hand. No fever. He might still be sick, but his skin didn’t show signs of the telltale discoloration of Bruise Boil, evident even during the earliest stages. Her gut told her the boy would be alright, if only a bit shaken. “Okay, you’re going to stay with me tonight, and tomorrow we’ll figure out what to do,” she said.
If the security forces found out she was harboring a quarantined resident in her quarters, they would both be sent to the Dead Zone, a hospice area in the medical ward where station residents were sent to live out their final days.
As Ming shuffled into her apartment, she quickly left a message for Sav, asking him to check on the boy tomorrow when he brought Blitz downstation to analyze her bioNexus.
Just as she was about to punch the door closed, a silhouette filled the entryway. The light from her doorstep cast downward against the face, carving it into a thousand sharp shadows.
Tesla stilled.
Kiyo’s laughter sliced through the air, a haunting, emotionless sound that sent a chill through her. This wasn’t the Kiyo she knew. Gone was the laughter from the corners of his eyes, replaced by a look of spite and... something else. Something dangerous.
Desperation, she realized.
Tesla moved outside, closing Ming safely inside the apartment. “What do you want, Kiyo?” A sour smell hit her nostrils. He’d been drinking lunarshine. Barrels, she guessed, judging by the strength of the stench.
“Little Tesla all grown up,” slurred Kiyo, wobbling slightly on his feet. “How does it feel to be the most hated girl in the Gulch right now? You lost people a fortune in corpCredits tonight, including me.”
He’d bet against her. Of course he did. He’s a Skinner now, she reminded herself. The fact hurt more than she wanted to admit. Where had the boy she’d known all these years gone? The dragon tattoo along his neck looked fresh in the dim light. “Go home,” she said, backing toward the door, “before security forces finds you drunk and out after curfew.”
“So concerned for my welfare all of a sudden. How sweet.”
“You weren’t exactly worried about me when Radek tried to kill me tonight,” she retorted. “Tell me—did Yosef pay you to join the Skinners, or did you volunteer to be his lapdog just for the attention?”
Kiyo shoved her forward, pinning her against the wall before she could register the motion, one hand against her throat and the other caressing her hip. “You’d know all about attention, wouldn’t you, Tes? How much does the prince pay to screw you? Or does he just command your legs to spread?” He bit his lip, glancing over her body in a way that made her ill. “I saw the way he touched you tonight. I saw the way you were so... eager to please.”
The muscles in her throat tightened beneath his fingers. Stars lined her vision and her lungs burned for air. Even if she could scream, she knew no one in the Gulch would come running to help her. Given the outcome of the fight, most would probably pay to see her killed. Her voice rasped out. “Let—me—”
His wet lips crashed down on her own, cutting off her words as he enveloped her mouth in the taste of lunarshine and joori leaves. Her body shuddered in revulsion. The kiss was nothing like Daxton’s. The prince’s touch had been giving, gentle, kind. Kiyo’s kiss held the promise of pain.
Tesla lashed her knee out against Kiyo’s groin, but he twisted at the last moment, forcing her blow to land harmlessly against his thigh. He grunted, but the sound quickly turned to a sinister laugh.
“Don’t be so rude,” he whispered against her hair. “I’m just asking for a taste.”
Tears stung her cheeks, and she hated herself for crying. Hated that she couldn’t overpower him. Hated that she’d lost her parents and her best friend, leaving her with only violation and pain to fill the void. Something inside her broke, allowing the anger and hurt she’d felt for so many months to spill over.
“You were my family,” she choked out beneath his grip. “You were all I had left. And now you’re another one of Yosef’s thugs, like Naamah? How could you do this to me?” She pounded her fists against his chest, but Kiyo didn’t even flinch.
“Let me show you what I can do to you,” his lunarshine-infused breath whispered against her cheek. Kiyo’s hand traveled to her flat stomach, searching for the bottom of her shirt. His lips pressed against hers once more.
Tesla didn’t hesitate, biting down as hard as she could on his prying tongue.
He jerked backward. In a flash, his hand slapped her hard enough to send her staggering. But the moment was just enough to free her from his grasp. Just like she had in the match, she lowered her center of gravity into a deep crouch and leapt into the air, punching downward with all her strength.
He howled, stumbling backward against the walkway railing as something metal and heavy clattered in the darkness. Then she saw it—the flash of a chrome barrel sliding across the floor.
Kiyo tried reaching for the gun, but his fingers barely brushed the hilt of the pistol before Tesla raised it up, pressing it against his forehead with shaking hands.
“Go—Home—Kiyo.” Her throat felt dry and raspy like a steel sponge.
His eyes widened as he took in the situation. Tesla saw the exact moment he realized what he’d nearly done, a wave of horror shifting his features. “No, no, Tesla. I-I’m so sorry—”
She silenced him by grabbing his hair and shoving the barrel beneath his chin. “If you ever come near me again, I will end you,” she bit out, spitting on the ground near his shoes.
Kiyo nodded, his cheeks smudged from his own tears. As he rose, Tesla fought to steady her hands, aiming the pistol directly at his heart.
His shoulders shuddered as he let loose a thin, croaky whimper. His mouth opened to speak, and Tesla knew all the things he wanted to confess: that he’d loved her once, that he was sorry they’d become enemies, that he hated how he’d touched her just now. Instead, he choked back another sob, turned, and ran into the night.
Tesla’s knees buckled, and she collapsed against the wall, still clutching the gun in her palm. She wanted to scream, to shout after him all the ways he’d shattered her heart, but the words caught against the walls of her raw throat.
There was nothing left to say.