The Separation Trilogy Box Set: Books 1 -3

by Felisha Antonette

  I shake my head, but I can’t make out the words needed to talk him down.

  The entrance behind our deceivers slides open. Smaller Vojin rush through, entering the dimly-lit blue hall we stand in. Urgently, bodies buzzing with their bluish green color infusing through them, they say, “We need you in the mainframe.”

  Gunshots go off from somewhere near us. It’s music to my ears. I don’t relax against the hope that thrashes through me, but I blink, letting my eyes remain closed for a full second before I open them and see the three Vojin race from the hall. The gray seven-foot Vojin rushes out behind them, movements fluid as their steps hurry across the glass floor flickering green at the sound of every gunshot.

  The four of us are left alone.

  I smack the shotgun from my face. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Don’t talk to me, Kylie,” Marc says, the rasp is so thick in his voice I clear my own throat.

  “Marc,” I whine and regret the weakness that’s revealed from my doing so. “Just tell me. Why?”

  His gaze flicks to the ground for a second. As it rises, so does his weapon, with me at the end of both.

  A slow breath blows past my lips.

  “Well, Ky,” Collins sings, coming up behind me. She continues past me and takes Marc’s side. “I bet you’re upset, huh?” She grabs his shoulder in her skinny hands. Maybe due to my anger and rushing adrenaline, I see her moving in slow motion, rising on her toes and laying a long-lasting kiss to his cheek.

  Before she breaks the connection, I look away from them and tilt my head back to swallow the tears. I won’t allow this to tear me down. I’m stronger than the betrayal, than him and her.

  The entrance slides open again, and three gray Vojin enter. One has Cory by the neck, forcing him to walk forward. He says, “Lead them to a cell.”

  At least, this means we won’t be executed right now. Luke and I will have a little more time to figure this all out.

  Marc and Sean jerk their guns to our right, and Luke and I quietly follow instructions. I go first, Marc behind me, and I suspect Sean’s behind Luke with Collins somewhere following closely behind. This narrow hall is short. The walls and floor are a glass or a thick, glass-like plastic. They’re matte and glow a bluish green, but it’s not as bright as it was when we arrived. Likely to lessen visibility for the intruders as the Vojin try to get a handle on our invasion.

  Cory, Luke, and I are forced into a cellar. A blue-tinted glass door closes behind Luke, and the small space becomes our holding cell. I find a corner in the rear of the cell to slide down in. I press my back to the wall and draw my knees to my chest.

  Luke paces the floor. His heavy boots pound the glass, every step sounding like a slap and a thud. I’m tempted to beg him to sit the hell down, but I dare not get on his bad side.

  Luke stops in his tracks and whips around. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, glaring at Cory with furrowed brows and wide eyes as if his presence represents a crime. “Why don’t you need a mask to breathe?”

  Cory leans against the wall to my right, shoulders pressed to the glass as his lower body is slightly extended away from it. Dressed in casual attire, a long-sleeve, dark-green t-shirt and black jeans, he had to be in his dwelling when he departed for here. He stuffs his thumbs into his pockets and stares at Luke. “Because I don’t.” His sigh rumbles. “I’m here because I needed to speak with someone about their plot for ruin. Apparently,” he carries on, pulling himself from the wall and stepping to the center of the floor, “I’m a part of this plan to raid their territory. Unbeknownst to me,” he shouts, throwing his arms up. More to himself, he mumbles, “Somehow, even when I do nothing, I’m here, held prisoner with you two dipshits.”

  Luke and Cory bicker, and I zone them out. The obnoxious pounding in my chest has not subsided. The breaking of my heart hasn’t alleviated. It hurts so badly. I hug my knees to my chest to suppress it. I thought the feeling of jealousy was bad, or fear, which was absolutely traitorous. This, though… This feels like I’m dying with every pulse and every pause I get to take a gulp of air for it only to be knocked out of me again.

  “So…” Cory crosses the floor to me. He knocks the side of my boot with his twice. “Marc isn’t the guy you thought he was, huh?”

  With the heel of my palms pressed to my forehead, I utter, “Just because we are prisoners together, that does not mean I will not punch you in the face and chip another tooth.”

  Cory chuckles. “Sorry, Ky. But dude seriously played you.”

  “He did play you, Ky,” Luke says, now at my side, leaning his shoulder against the wall as he looks down at me.

  I flinch and glare up at him through my lashes. “You trusted him too, Luke!”

  “Maybe. But you loved him, and I told you not to.” He meets my gaze. My eyes continue to well with tears, frequently on the edge of rolling over, getting harder and harder to fight. I look away from him, shame keeping me from looking him in the eyes. There’s no way I would tell him what Marc and I did. But somehow, he reads it on me. “Ky,” he sings in a remorseful tone, shoulders slacking as he slides to the floor. “Tell me you didn’t?”

  I cross my arms and rest them against my propped-up knees. “No, Luke. I didn’t. I’m just angry,” I say, pressing my forehead to my forearm. I don’t need his pity or his sympathy.

  The door to our cell slides open. I sit up. A pink female Vojin stands in the entryway, large almond shaped eyes looking the three of us over. The pink Vojin were supposed to be the good ones who wanted to preserve the America and their kind. They had asked to be spared. I try to recall if I shot any pink Vojin, but everything happened so quickly. I don’t know. “Lukahn? Kylie?” she says. Luke approaches her, but she doesn’t move from blocking the doorway until I make it to his side. “Follow me please.” Her body turns toward the exit, and she steps forward on her right foot, movement slow until her left foot falls in step, then she walks at a normal pace. Luke and I cautiously follow behind her. Her voice is vaguely familiar, but I can’t place her name.

  She leads us from the cell to a hall lit in soft forest green, providing just enough light to quietly maneuver behind the Vojin. She stops around a corner, and we wait behind her. Nearby, we hear the sound of a door sliding open and closed. A bright silver light engulfs the hall we wait to enter, likely one of the gray Vojin. It fades, heading the opposite direction of us.

  The female Vojin rounds the corner. We follow behind her. She heads down the hall, stopping at a cloudy white glass door. Here, she presses her slender hand to the central panel, and the reader acknowledges her action by outlining the shape of her hand in pink. The door slides left, unlike the other doors that slid right. We cautiously enter the small space. The Vojin steps in, and the room takes on her pink hue. The door closes, and our surroundings shift, briefly tugging us toward the floor. The room ascends.

  “You would call this an elevator,” she says in a hushed voice, likely taking notice of my confused expression as I survey this contraption. “I visited you on Earth, in your home, pleading for you to consider rebelling with us.”

  I recall her and another warning us their leader had been overthrown by rebellious Vojin who are responsible for the threat on Earth.

  “You all are now prisoners of the Vojin.”

  Luke snorts. I flick my gaze to his repulsed face before focusing back on the slinky frame of the Vojin.

  She continues, “We will keep you from execution. Stay silent. You should avoid answering or asking any questions. Your associates called Jord, Seits, and Harold have also been captured. I have convinced them to move you all near them. In the night, when the passageway is clear and falls dark, this should be the preferred time to discuss your escape and how you will take down the Volones. Once they are out of the picture, the destruction of your planet as well as the takeover will end.” Just as she finishes, the elevator stops and the door slides open.

  Volones. This must be what they are calling the oversized gr
ay Vojin. They look like a completely different species with their seven-foot height and gray fusing color, like storm clouds slowly churning beneath their flesh. They seem built to dominate the smaller Vojin. But their frames are the same: broad shoulders and a wide torso that slims down making their hips skinny to fall in line with their long legs.

  I hold my questions, sensing the Vojin chose to finally speak in the elevator because she was safe from being heard. Luke and I follow her exit. The back of my head is throbbing from being knocked out by that gun, and my arm twitches for me to rub it. But I keep my hands to my sides so I don’t draw attention to my discomfort. I don’t think it’s bleeding, but with every pulse, it feels like the knot is growing bigger.

  The pink female Vojin approaches another door that slides open when she steps in front of it. The door opens to another hall that leads to a dead end, with walls and glass floor lit in a cloudy white that doesn’t shine brightly but brings enough light to see. I see twelve prison-like cells, six on each side, small rooms enclosed by bars made up of thick glass tubes about the width of my wrist.

  We continue down the hall until the Vojin stops in front of the third cell on the left. The clear glass bars lift into the ceiling at our approach. Within the cell, against the wall to the left is a floating, twin-size cot. There’s no toilet or sink unlike the punishment lockups back on Earth. We better start planning our escape immediately. These conditions will not work for us. The Vojin points for Luke and me to walk in. “Here first,” she tells us. “I’ll move you later.”

  We follow orders. The bars quickly shoot down from the ceiling into the floor where a vacuum like sound continues until the bars stop moving. Once they do, she walks away.

  I find a corner and sit with my back against the wall. Crossing my arms, I rest them on my propped-up knees and lay my forehead against them.

  Chapter Two

  How didn’t I see it?

  Was it staring me in the face the entire time, and I was just blind?

  The heat of regret warms over my flesh. I shiver.

  How can I be so gullible? So…stupid?

  Even now, after the recent events, I settle in the corner of this prison cell, headache persisting—a reminder—and regrettably…I think about Marc.

  My regret isn’t because of the time I dedicated to him or the amount of myself I gave to him, but because of how I wish the person betraying me wasn’t him.

  I whip my head back, and ram it against the wall over and over, worsening the knot from where I was clocked in the back of my head.

  Luke sits beside me. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to rest against him. “Shh,” he soothes and rubs my arm. “I’m sorry, Ky,” he whispers.

  I cringe. It should be me apologizing to him for getting us into this whole mess. But peeping a word results in a gasp or whimper, and I will allow neither to escape. Ever.

  “Pull it together, Ky. You’ll be fine. Shake it off.” Luke knows. He’s too smart for me to ever hide anything from him, and though he likely has a million disapproving comments to beat me over the head with, I appreciate he’s not being a jerk right now.

  My tears stay back, but there’s a pain in my chest, a constant fluttering that makes me aware of my heartbeat. It’s pounding in my throat too. I sigh, “I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

  “Don’t talk about it.” He shifts. “Get up. Somebody’s coming.”

  We climb to our feet, watching the edge of the cell for whoever may be heading our direction. A gray Vojin—Volones—comes down the hall with Seits and Jord, hands strapped behind their backs. Marc and Sean are behind them, guns aimed at the backs of their heads. They approach the cell across from ours, and the bars shoot up into the ceiling. The two are shoved in, and the cell is sealed.

  Turning around, the Volones crosses the hall to our cell, and it opens. He points to me as do Marc and Sean’s guns. Luke and I walk forward, and the Volones shoves Luke back so hard he slams into the wall and falls onto the floor. He grunts. I whip around to aid him, and I’m snatched back by my arm, yanked out of the cell. The bars shoot down from the ceiling and quickly seal, separating me from my brother.

  I don’t turn away from Luke until he meets my eyes and gives me a nod. Now knowing he’s okay, I turn my attention back to the Volones. He points down the hall. I march further down the hall until I’m ordered to stop. In the last cell on the left, I’m shoved forward through the opening, and the cell seals behind me. My trigger finger twitches, and I lean against the wall and remind myself to stay quiet.

  “You,” the Volones points to Sean. “Watch her. And you,” he points to Marc. “Watch them.” He gestures to Jord and Seits and leaves after stating he’s going for Cory and Harold.

  I keep my gaze on the floating bed, knowing if I were to avert it, I’d find myself staring at Sean’s back and acting out three different events that would get me shot.

  The cell across from me is empty, and the others are too far away to discreetly communicate with.

  A thump sounds from the glass bars. I look their direction. Marc stands at my cell, shotgun lowered, slung over his shoulder. He gestures for me to come over. I shake my head. Marc places his forehead to the bars with his arms through them, both hands wave me over.

  Again, I shake my head.

  He mouths, “I’m sorry.”

  I flick my gaze away from his frown and lowered eyebrows to the cloudy white ceiling, trying to keep my tears from falling. This is such a stupid feature to this body. The tears burn my eyes but refrain from pouring over.

  Marc taps the bar again.

  Grumbling, I dart my gaze in his direction, and a tear skates down my cheek. He looks away from me. “What?” I harshly whisper.

  “Come here,” he mouths.

  “No,” I mouth back, slamming my fist against my leg. “Go away.”

  He extends his hand through the bars into my cell and opens his eyes a little wider. “Please,” he begs, brows trembling and lips drawing inward.

  Getting up, I go to him. At my approach, he grazes my neck and pushes his hand up through my messy ponytail to the knot protruding from my head. He gently massages the spot. The bars are wide enough apart for him to place his forehead to mine when he inches me forward. “I’m sorry.” I try to pull away, but his free hand shoots out and grabs my waist. He keeps me close.

  His body heat warms my neck and face. The comfort I get from the contact stabs a knife in my back, as if the action is a betrayal to myself.

  Marc turns my head to whisper in my ear, “I’d never turn on you. I do love you, Ky. I just…now…I know in the end you’ll pick Luke, and I can’t be with you knowing you are my first pick and I’m not yours. That’s why I agreed to do things this way. So be mad at me, I can take it. I just wanted to explain and reassure you everything we did was one hundred percent authentic. My love in you was the most genuine emotion I’ve ever felt.” He pauses. “I think I love you too much. And while I’m okay with that, my love isn’t enough for you.” He meets my eyes. “But trust I love you.”

  I grab the glass bars in my hands to keep myself from reaching for Marc and attacking him. “How can I trust you?” This close to him, I avoid looking into his eyes. “If everything was real for you, you would be behind these bars with me. Not on the other side.”

  “That’s not true, Kylie.”

  I try to keep my voice low, but the burn building in my throat makes it rough. “You are a snake, and I stupidly fell into your deception.” I push away, but his hands, still wrapped around my waist and the back of my head, force me to stay. “I’m through with you. Let me go.”

  His hold on me tightens. “Would you look at me?”

  I shake my head.

  “Then hear me.” Marc’s lips brush my ear as he whispers, “I can’t explain right now what’s going on. But you just need to trust me.” He leans back a bit and begs, “Please, Ky. Trust me.”

  I can’t. “As long as you’re out there, and I’m in here, I�
��ll never trust you.” I step back, but my hands remain wrapped around the bars. His pleading eyes locked on mine make my sureties insecurities, and I begin to doubt I’m making the right decision.

  I hold my breath and lean over, grip tightening around the glass. Sadness is working its way through me, but I will not break down. Not here. Not in front of him. I cough against the pain and wince to fight it off.

  “Hey,” Marc carries on in a whisper. “Come here, Ky.” His rough palm rubs my neck. As I rise, he cuffs my cheek and swipes the tear from my eye. “I hate to see you cry.”

  I grab him by the shoulder straps of his vest. I shake him once. “I want to tell you I hate you so badly,” I whisper, now understanding exactly what he meant when he said that to me. “I want to hate you.”

  He wraps me in his arms, bars separating our frames. An inch away from my lips, he utters, “But your wants don’t matter.” He kisses me, and I don’t want it to feel as reassuring and perfectly perfect as it does. What is it about him, this boy I accidentally fell in love with at Separation? How did I get here?

  Marc’s lips move smoothly against mine, like we’ve known each other for years. In this uncomfortable situation, he makes it comfortable. Breaking away, he requests, “Now, tell me you love me, Kylie.”

  Though I may, I will not say those words. “Tell me now. What’s going on?”

  He sighs so low I barely hear it. “Why haven’t you asked me yet?”

  I roll my eyes at his change in subject. “What?”

  “If I’m mixed.”

  I shrug. “I don’t care. I wouldn’t have cared. I didn’t fall for you because of what you are. If you are still you, none of that even matters.” Marc looks down, and I survey him, his dark hair, warm skin tone, his beard lining his jawline, and his neutral expression. Regrettably, I recall Collins kissing him, and an onslaught of memories pound against my already hurting head. A realization pulls a gasp from me.

  Marc looks up, eyes squinting as he waits for me to reveal what’s caused my shock.