guilty in the least for indulging myself—after all, I’d worked up quite an appetite with Soren.
I looked out into the distance, watching as Soren’s transport pod cut across the royal grounds and toward the hospital. There goes my man, I thought, smiling like a teenage girl pining over her crush.
Even though I was pretty damn sure that this wasn’t a dream, I still wanted to pinch myself. Just in case. I was madly in love with Soren, and unless I really sucked at reading him, I was pretty sure that he felt the same.
I had been so certain that I’d accept a Tracorox contract if one came up, but now...did it still make sense for me to do it? Dylan and I could have a life here. A good life. Maybe it was time for me to let go of revenge. June would want me to be happy, and that was the best way to honor her memory.
“That’s it, then,” I muttered, taking a sip of my ploshk. I’d wait for Soren to return, and then I’d tell him I’d made my decision—once my contract with the IEP was up, I was going to stay here on Hollander.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t that hard of a decision to make. And once it was done, it was as if a hundred-ton weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I still missed June—and I’d always miss her—but it was time for me to start looking forward.
With the cup of ploshk nestled between my hands, I got up from my seat and wandered back into the bedroom. I grabbed my Holopad from the bedside table and unlocked the screen, a nostalgic feeling washing over me.
I dialed up June’s Holopad, needing to hear her voice and see her face. It was a silly thing to do, as I knew she wouldn’t answer, but her Holopad greeting message contained a holographic image of her, and seeing it was one of the few things that comforted me whenever I found myself missing her.
I smiled as I waited for her voice to come through, like it had countless times before, but that didn’t happen. Instead, I heard the violent crackle of static. My heart almost stopped as I saw a message blinking on the screen.
Connection Established.
Dazed, my hand going limp, the cup fell from my fingers. It shattered into a million pieces, bathing my bare feet in warm orange ploshk, but I barely noticed it. My attention was solely focused on the Holopad’s screen.
Something clattered on the other side of the line, and I heard what seemed like heavy boots slapping concrete. That was followed by a scuffling sound, as if someone was struggling.
Then…silence.
I held my breath as I waited for something to happen, and that’s when I heard someone breathing heavily, the sound of it coming through the static.
“June?” I whispered, my heart drumming inside my chest. My fingernails were digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood, and my vision had turned into a tunnel, everything but the Holopad becoming blurry and out-of-focus.
“June is dead,” a deep voice growled from the other side of the line, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “Stop calling this Holopad.”
“Who is this?” I asked, struggling to get the words out.
“You’re a busybody, Maya, aren’t you?” the voice said menacingly. “I’d be careful, if I were you. Busybodies are prone to accidents.”
“Who is this?”
“You don’t know?” There was surprise there, almost as if the answer was self-evident. Then, it dawned on me—this was Dylan's father. “Forget about your sister, or else I’ll make sure I won’t forget about you. Or those around you, including Dylan and that precious prince of yours.” A dark chuckle, and then: “Yes, I know about him, Maya. I know everything.”
I was about to faint. The room spun around me, and a wave of nausea twisted my insides like a knife. I didn’t say a word. I was far too dazed for it.
That’s when I heard it.
It was nothing but a faint little whisper, a sound that seemed to come from the far end of a tunnel. It was a voice, and it sounded just like…
No, it can’t be.
And yet, there was no mistaking it.
“Maya, Maya!” It was faint, barely audible, but that was my sister’s voice. That was June. But how could that be? June was dead! Had I finally lost it? Was I hallucinating all of this?
Again, that scuffling sound returned.
“Forget about Tracorox, woman,” that voice said, sharp knives