Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,201

sound came out. Instead, it was Etienne who spoke.

He took a step out of his corner and unlocked his arms from across his broad chest. “There were two ships on the mission, but we lost contact with the other one shortly after it took off.”

Comprehension suddenly crashed into Marcellus. These people had helped the Vangarde break out Citizen Rousseau? That strange ship he’d seen on the roof belonged to them?

Etienne looked to Chatine, who was staring numbly at the ground, and the hardness of his gaze softened. “Her little brother was on the other ship.”

“Roche,” Chatine whispered, her voice cracking. “It was Roche. He was my lost baby brother, and I didn’t even know until it was too late. Back then, we called him—”

“Henri,” Alouette said with sudden realization. “I remember now. At the inn. Late at night, I would wake up to the sound of his cries. You would go to him. You would sing to him.”

As Marcellus watched the rivulets of tears make their way down Chatine’s cheeks, he felt like the whole planet was imploding around him. His insides caved in on themselves. The walls of the chalet came crumbling down. Not only had his grandfather killed Citizen Rousseau and Mabelle and Alouette’s beloved sisters in that attack. He’d also killed Roche. That clever boy Marcellus had interrogated in the Precinct. Chatine’s little brother.

General Bonnefaçon had destroyed all their lives. He was an enemy to everyone in this room. To Chatine, who’d suffered on Bastille. To Alouette, who’d lost the only family she’d ever known. To Gabriel, who was fighting for his life in that operating room right now. To Cerise, who’d left behind her comfortable life in Ledôme only to be stuck here, staring at a door and praying to the Sols that Gabriel would make it out. Even to these Défecteurs, who had been banished to the frozen tundra of the Terrain Perdu in an attempt to escape the Ministère’s wrath. They were all victims of his grandfather’s vicious game. They’d all been made miserable because of him.

And for all they knew, he could be destroying even more lives right this minute.

The thought made the room spin. Marcellus gripped tightly to the edge of his cot and tried to take deep breaths. He didn’t know how much longer he could stay locked up here. He didn’t know how much more waiting he could take.

“Your friend is stable.”

The voice came from behind Cerise, startling everyone. Marcellus looked up to see Brigitte, the former cyborg médecin, standing in the doorway of the operating room dressed in her medical scrubs, her scarred face covered by a surgical mask that stopped just below her eyes.

Cerise’s gaze seemed to track right to the splatters of blood on the front of Brigitte’s shirt. “Oh my Sols! He’s alive? He’s going to be okay?”

Brigitte grabbed Cerise’s hands in hers and squeezed them tightly. “He’s going to be okay. I was able to get all the fragments of the cluster bullet out. And I went ahead and removed his TéléSkin while he was under. He’s going to make it. He’s a fighter.”

Cerise collapsed in relief onto the nearest cot. “Oh, thank the Sols.”

“Pretty nasty things, those cluster bullets,” said Brigitte. “Do you want to tell me how he got shot?”

Cerise looked to Alouette, who looked to Marcellus, who looked to the floor again. “We were pursued by the Royal Guard.” He swallowed. “On Albion.”

He expected Brigitte to react with shock. It wasn’t every day you met a Laterrian who had been to Albion. But she simply nodded for him to continue.

Marcellus anxiously cleared his throat. “My grandfather, as you might know, is General Bonnefaçon.” Once again, the Défecteur’s expression remained neutral, even in the face of her enemy. “But I swear I don’t work for him anymore. You don’t have to worry about me—”

“If I was worried,” Brigitte interrupted calmly, “you wouldn’t be here.”

“Right.” Marcellus felt a flicker of relief, followed quickly by confusion. “Wait, why aren’t you worried?”

Brigitte cracked a small smile. “Let’s just say we have some of the same friends.”

Marcellus wasn’t quite sure what to do with that, so he simply stored it away to be questioned later. “Well, anyway, we went to Albion to track down a source who had been working with the general to build a weapon.”

Chatine stiffened. “What kind of weapon?”

Marcellus looked to Cerise, who looked to Alouette, who held Chatine’s gaze with unwavering strength. “It’s an update. For the Third Estate Skins. It gives the