Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,177

there’s a ninety-five percent chance it will end in disaster.”

“And if we stay here,” Cerise said, “then it’s one-hundred percent certain that Gabriel will die, and the planet will fall into the hands of a madman. Pick your disaster.”

“I hate to admit it, but I have to agree with Sparkles here.”

They all spun to see that Gabriel’s eyes were open. His forehead glistened with sweat and his mouth was twisted in a pained grimace, but he was awake.

“Gabriel!” Cerise ran to him and threw her arms around him, completely unmindful of his condition. He winced at the sudden impact.

Cerise sat up, her expression instantly morphing to fury. “How could you do that? How could you just go and get yourself shot? You’re such an idiot!”

Gabriel chuckled hoarsely. “Are you gonna punch me again?”

Cerise huffed and stood up from the bed. “Maybe. But not until you’re better.”

“That’s very considerate of you.”

“Marcellus,” Alouette warned, almost as though she could see the wheels in his head spinning frantically. “We can’t do this.”

“It’s our only chance,” Cerise argued. She pointed at Gabriel. “It’s his only chance. You said so yourself, our intentions mean more than the results. And right now, our intentions are the only thing we have left.”

Cerise tapped again on the screen and the display shifted. Now, the monitor showed nine blinking dots glowing ominously in the darkness of space. “The microprobes are reporting three more warships than there were an hour ago,” Cerise went on. “They’re not giving up. They’re only sending more.”

Cerise turned back to Marcellus, an expectant look in her eyes. He darted his gaze to Alouette who was staring at him with the exact same look. He clawed his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes, his thoughts a jumbled, chaotic mess.

Was Alouette right? Had he lost his mind? Were they insane to try this?

But what other choice did they have? His grandfather had his hands on a weapon that would certainly destroy the planet. He had his very own Third Estate army at his command now. Not to mention, if they stayed here, the Albion Royal Space Fleet would inevitably find them and throw them in the Tower. If they even let them get off this ship alive.

How could they not try this?

The familiar fire started to burn inside his chest. The flames of desperation. Of fury. Of vengeance. Of knowing he would rather die than see his grandfather take control of Laterre.

This is what Julien Bonnefaçon would have done. Marcellus was certain of it. If his father were alive today, he would stop at nothing to see General Bonnefaçon defeated. He would stop at nothing to save his planet.

Marcellus glanced at the monitor on the wall and stared vacantly at those tiny green dots combing through space, like hunting dogs spurred on by the fresh scent of prey.

He flashed Alouette an apologetic look, then turned to Cerise. “Prepare for hypervoyage.”

- PART 5 - TERRAIN PERDU

Only a special few entered the program, singled out for their intelligence, their dexterity, and their brilliance. Under bright, sterile lights, tiny wires were tapestried into their skin. Filaments threaded through their cortexes. And a glowing orange light embedded into the window of their being. Feelings were sacrificed and emotions set aside, but their abilities flourished a thousandfold. Their hands moved faster. Their brains processed quicker. Technology and flesh worked together in a beautiful, efficient, and exhilarating dance.

But sometimes the dance faltered.

And the embers of a forgotten conscience ignited once more.

From The Chronicles of the Vangarde, Volume 2, Chapter 18

- CHAPTER 50 - CHATINE

ONCE AGAIN, CHATINE WAITED UNTIL everyone was asleep. It took longer this time because of the fête. The Défecteurs didn’t make their way back to their respective chalets until the early hours of the morning. Chatine could hear them outside, still dancing and singing and celebrating, while she lay on her bed in the treatment center, seething and raging and simmering, her breath a mess of gasps, her mind a tangle of bitter, dark thoughts.

Finally, however, the camp fell quiet and Chatine eased out of her bed, donned her coat, and slipped out into the darkness.

She limped down the grid of walkways, checking every corner, eyeing every door to make sure it remained closed. The last time she had snuck out in the middle of the night, Etienne had somehow found out and followed her. But she could not have him following her this time.

He was already suspicious enough. He’d seen Chatine’s reaction when she’d come face-to-face with