The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,98

break into a sprint, tears blurring my vision as I run toward my family. I don’t care that two guards are right behind me, that the whole world is watching our reunion turned good-bye—all I see are my brother, my parents. They hold out their arms to me, and I fly straight into them, the four of us colliding in a tangle of hugs, kisses, and tears.

“I’m sorry,” I cry onto Sam’s shoulder. “I was supposed to come back for you. It was supposed to be us against the world, for life, and now—”

Sam interrupts, holding me by the shoulders. “It is us against the world, Sis. You’re going out to find us a better one.” His voice cracks with emotion, but he forces a smile. “I told you before, you were born for this. And I’ll be okay.”

“We are so proud of you, azizam.” Dad wraps me in a tight hug, and tears spill from his eyes as he touches my space suit. “We’ll talk every day, okay? Email, video-chatting, whatever you can do—we’ll be there.”

Only my mother is silent, staring at me with a broken look on her face. She tries to smile, but a sob escapes instead.

“I love you, my sweet girl,” she whispers, kissing my forehead.

“I love you all so much. And I realize now, more than ever, how lucky I was—am—to have you.” I take a deep breath. “I’ll never forget it.”

A roar bursts from the crowd, and I turn to see a giant countdown clock lighting up.

“T-minus ten minutes!” a voice booms.

I cling tighter to my family as I wonder how it’s possible for my heart to break so many times in a single day. One of the guards steps forward, placing a firm hand on my back.

“It’s time to get into the launch vehicle, Naomi.”

This is it. I shake my head. How is it possible I’m already out of time?

I hug my parents and Sam once more, and before our last good-bye, I blurt out, “The other finalist, the one I was standing next to on TV—his name is Leo Danieli, and he doesn’t have any family left. Will you find him for me? Maybe—maybe you guys can be there for each other. He . . . he means the world to me.”

“We’ll find him,” Mom says. “Promise.”

I try to smile in thanks.

“Go fly, Sis,” Sam says in my ear. “We’ll be watching you, cheering you on every day from Earth.”

“My body might be up there, but my heart will always be here.” I reach out my hand, and my parents and brother cover it with their own. “So I won’t say good-bye. I have to believe I’ll see you again.”

“T-minus seven!” the booming voice echoes, and now two guards are wrenching me away from my family, ushering me in line with the two robots and the rest of the six.

I can hear my heart’s loud thumping inside my space suit as we make the slow march into the rocket ship. Cyb supervises us as we strap into our acceleration seats and lie down flat, just like in the virtual reality simulation. I turn my face against the leather seat, as I did with Leo before we kissed . . . but it’s not his face beside me anymore. A fist tightens around my heart.

The countdown echoes inside our spacecraft, and it doesn’t matter how terrified I am—the clock keeps ticking. “T-minus six . . . T-minus five . . .”

The ground beneath us rumbles violently, and all six of us grip the sides of our seats in fear. Through the porthole window, I spot fish leaping out of the sea, the sky lighting up a fiery shade. I hear Cyb yell, “All clear for liftoff!”

The force of gravity presses down against me as the cabin rattles; the engines ignite. Just when I think I can’t stand this feeling any longer, that my whole body is going to explode and disintegrate right here—we break loose. The air whooshes from my lungs as we fly.

And we soar, up past the sky.

Twenty-Nine

LEO

I STAND AT THE EDGE OF A PRIVATE LAKE IN AUSTRIA WITH DR. Greta Wagner, the exiled inventor and scientist—who I now know as the anonymous mind behind the Space Conspirator, too. Across from us, on a concrete platform, stands her latest secret invention: a single-passenger rocket ship built for Europa.

“I’ve long believed that both mankind’s greatest discoveries and greatest risks lie there, below the ice,” Dr. Wagner says, following my gaze. “None of