Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,185

clutched protectively around that piece of cloth in her hands. By the time they both collapsed into the escape pod, Marcellus was coughing so badly, he could barely move.

Cerise pounded her fist against the panel on the wall. The door slid shut, and the pod began to rumble. Cerise helped Alouette up and into the jump seat. Marcellus struggled to follow, his muscles barely strong enough to fasten his restraints.

The engine let out a roar and then the pod released. In one swift jolt, they were hoisted out and away from the voyageur. The force of the blast pinned Marcellus to his seat, but just as the pod banked and they began their descent toward Laterre, he was able to turn his head long enough to steal a glance behind them. At the Galactique-class voyageur that had taken them to Albion and back. At the ship that was now exploding into a million shattering and burning pieces of light.

- CHAPTER 53 - CHATINE

OUTSIDE THE CHALET, THE AIR had never tasted so fresh. So cleansing. So cold and delicious. Chatine gulped in huge lungfuls of it, thirsty for more and more and more. Still clutching the handmade sac, she collapsed forward and rested her hands on her knees, trying to calm herself. Her whole body was quivering. Her heart was thundering behind her rib cage. Her mind was on fire.

She couldn’t believe what she’d just done.

She couldn’t believe she’d gone to battle with her parents and actually won.

But she knew this victory wasn’t just for herself. It was for Azelle, who had dreamed of a better life and had died working for it. And it was for Henri. For Roche, who had grown up parentless and abandoned and alone, wandering the streets, begging and conning for food, hiding under marketplace stalls and in the bases of statues.

This victory was for all of them.

The three lost Renard children, who had suffered simply for being Renards.

Chatine’s breathing slowly returned to normal, and her head cleared as she reminded herself that this wasn’t over yet. She still had to somehow break into the storage chalet and steal seven blocs of zyttrium.

Guilt streamed thick and heavy through her veins at the thought. She used to steal without remorse. It used to mean nothing to her. Just another part of her miserable day. But something had changed in her since she’d left Bastille. Since she’d seen that small raindrop-shaped birthmark on the back of Roche’s shoulder. Since she’d woken up on Etienne’s strange ship. Since she’d lost her Skin.

She flipped her arm over and rubbed at the healing incision. She would always have a scar. A reminder of the life she’d led. The chains she’d worn. But it was almost as though Brigitte had taken something else from her that day when she’d lifted the Ministère-manufactured implant from her body.

She’d taken away the ties to her past.

She’d freed Chatine from the person she used to be. The person her parents and the Regime had turned her into.

She couldn’t steal from these people. She was suddenly certain of it. No matter the upside, she couldn’t deceive them or con them or hurt them. She would just have to turn her parents in to the Défecteurs and deal with the consequences. Even if it meant she lost her place here too. Even if it meant she lost their trust.

On the horizon, a slither of clouds glowed pink and blue, a warning that the Sols would soon be rising. Brigitte’s chalet, she knew, was on the other side of the camp, back near the treatment center. Chatine turned toward it and began walking. But she’d barely made it a few paces when she heard another set of footsteps.

She spun and blinked into the beam of a flashlight, her entire body tensing. She didn’t need to see beyond that bright light to know who was behind it. The situation was too familiar. And his energy was too recognizable.

She swallowed.

There was no point in trying to play stupide or pretending she was just out on a late-night stroll through the camp. They were standing right next to her parents’ chalet, and the walls weren’t soundproof.

Chatine cleared her throat, but her voice still quavered. “How much did you hear?”

Etienne didn’t reply as he took a step toward her and lowered the flashlight so that the beam landed right on her chest. Like a blade. Then, it traveled down to the sac still in her hand, and Chatine felt her blood turn to