Bonds of Brass (The Bloodright Trilogy #1) - Emily Skrutskie Page 0,24

vicious swerve to avoid clipping the massive communications tower that’s suddenly loomed out of the darkness.

Gal’s wide eyes turn up to meet mine.

I slap him lightly. “Face front, dumbass. Eyes on the sky if you’re gonna drive. Gods of all systems, that was the academy’s main relay. If you’d taken it down, you’d have knocked out the military comms keystone for this entire system.”

Gal lets out an anxious scoff. “Hey, worst-case scenario, they sue my parents for the damages.”

We both crack at the same time. The laugh comes from my stomach, blasting out of me so violently that I almost choke. The ship’s vector wobbles as Gal bends over the controls, wheezing. He’s trying his best to bite down on his hysteria, but when I’m laughing, he can never stop. I lean back in the copilot’s chair, letting out a wild howl as we blast toward the stars above.

Then an alert flashes on the dash. Gal glances down at the warning, rubbing the tears from his eyes as he tries to make it out. “Rut me sideways,” he says.

“Now what?”

“They’ve launched missiles.”

CHAPTER 6

OUR EYES MEET. “Switch,” we whisper simultaneously.

I didn’t strap in, but Gal did. As I rocket out of my chair and scramble to the other side of the cockpit, he struggles with the restraints, his sweaty fingers slipping over the belts. The ship lists dangerously, and I lean over him to grab the controls before we start to plunge. The panel beneath me shows the inbound missiles. Thirty seconds until we’re bits.

As Gal keeps floundering, I crank the engines up as hot as they’ll go, practically daring the heat seekers to hump us. The Beamer handles like a bar of soap, a far cry from the Vipers I’m used to.

“Gal,” I warn.

“I’m trying, I just—”

I know what I need to do. I twist over the seat, trying my best to keep the controls steady as I climb into Gal’s lap. The cockpit clearly wasn’t meant for this—I barely have room to maneuver, but at least I can reach everything I need to.

“Ruttin’ unreal,” Gal chokes from beneath me.

“One, you brought this on yourself. Two, I’m really, really sorry about this,” I snap, then yank the controls and point our nose to the sky.

Acceleration crushes us as we climb. Gal whimpers, and it occurs to me that I’m probably not going to like the consequences of collapsing an Umber prince’s rib cage. My eyes are on the instruments as the missiles close. I have to time this right. Two inbound heat seekers fly in parallel, dissolving the distance between us far too fast for my liking.

“Gal?”

I get a grunt. Can’t blame him.

“Hold on.”

He takes a second to catch my meaning. When his arms lock around my chest, I twist the Beamer’s controls, throwing us into a tight spin. This ship can barely handle these kinds of forces—the whole thing creaks and groans. It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open and focused. With no belts to hold me in, Gal’s the only thing keeping me from flying across the cockpit. Even in the tumult, the warmth of his chest pressed against my back isn’t lost on me.

Focus. I need to focus. Just for a minute more.

The spin has thrown the heat seekers into a spiral that twists wide. Wide enough? We’re about to find out. Because here’s the problem with heat seekers: they get a little confused when you go cold.

I cut the engines with a flip of a switch. Our acceleration drains away. The Beamer goes terrifyingly quiet. Nothing but our breaths, our heartbeats, and the rush of air around us. Nothing but the incoming shriek of the missiles.

We reach apogee. We drop. Gal’s grip around me goes tighter. The instrumentation whistles a warning. I squeeze my eyes shut.

Nothing I do can save us now.

The missiles scream past us, recalculating, converging. A fraction of a second later, there’s a bloom of light beyond my eyelids and an explosion that shakes us like