Torn Sky (Rebel Wing Trilogy, Book 3) (Rebel Wing Series)

by Tracy Banghart

  It took them just over an hour to reach Safara. Lieutenant Santos paced them until they crossed the border, and then he peeled off, heading toward Safara’s capital. Dianthe had found a way to patch Alistar’s secure comm feed to the wingjet; Santos would be able to track Alistar’s progress and intercept him once the weapon was secure.

  Considering her tangled thoughts, Aris was surprised at how calm her hands were on the controls, especially as they crossed into the airspace where she’d been shot down.

  “Just a little dance, right?” Milek said, a grin warming his voice.

  An answering smile curved her lips. “That’s right.”

  The warehouse came into view a short time later. Like the other building they’d raided, this one was lit by several bright floodlights and guarded by a contingent of Safaran soldiers.

  Although it would make their jobs more difficult, Aris was comforted by the abundance of guards. That meant there was something worth guarding inside.

  “We’ll do a single pass with fire,” Milek announced to the team. “Target the soldiers and wingjets stationed away from the building. We don’t want anyone blowing the warehouse by mistake, you hear me?”

  “Yes sir”s chorused over the comms.

  Everything came down to this moment. Aris wondered how Pallas was holding up. She was glad Baksen was there with her.

  They swung around and approached the warehouse from the north. Aris studied the three blips on the nav to confirm her team was in correct position. Riatta didn’t seem to be having trouble allowing for the larger size of the transport. Over comms, she heard the quickened breathing of her soldiers. They were more than ready.

  “Now.” Milek’s voice rang across the comms.

  Aris shot forward. Milek’s hands flashed on the gunner controls. Beneath them, red streaks lit the landing pad. By the time the rest of the team had passed over, three Safaran wingjets were in flames. The entrance to the warehouse swarmed with the surviving soldiers. It was obvious they were in a panic, trying to figure out where the threat was coming from. Milek ordered another pass, and the scurrying men disappeared under a cloud of smoke.

  “Think that did it?” Aris asked, as they regrouped to the north again.

  “There will be survivors. But we’ve evened the field. Let’s get down there.” Milek opened comms to the rest of the team. “Land on this side of the warehouse. They’re focused on the entrance. Let’s see what’s left defending the back.”

  Landing was difficult with the veiling tech engaged, but Aris’s flyers had been practicing for weeks and all three wingjets touched down with minimal issues. Before they exited, they watched for guards, but the bombing kept everyone busy. No one was worried about the back door.

  Still, Aris’s heart pounded as she disembarked, her solagun at the ready. Shouts and the bitter scent of burning fuel filled the air. She reminded the team to count their steps to the door, so they’d easily find the invisible wingjets again. The back of the building was dark, but the glow from the wreckage lit their way. Lieutenant Riatta and Specialist Tekla flanked Aris and Milek, Specialists Yannis and Nesta right behind. Pallas and Baksen brought up the rear.

  Night clung under the eaves. A white panel stood out on the wall next to the rusted door: a handprint-activated lock. Without pausing, Milek shot it with his solagun. The laser cut through the pad, and the door clanked open.

  Aris let out the breath she’d been holding. Milek shot her a glance, and then carefully made his way inside. She stepped over the threshold next, her team close at her back.

  Haphazard strips of dim, flickering lighting revealed a vast space. Tall wire shelves lined the long room, with a wide, empty avenue running between. Aris’s eyes flew to the shelves, searching.

  Every single one was empty.

  It’s okay. The weapon is supposed to be underground.

  “We need to find access to the bunker,” Aris said.

  But Milek didn’t answer. He was staring ahead.

  Aris followed his gaze, and her breath froze.

  A solid wall of soldiers, thirty strong at least, emerged from the darkness at the far end of the warehouse, advancing slowly. It was like they’d been waiting, expecting Aris and her team to come through that door.

  She didn’t hesitate. “Run!”

  Her team scattered toward the tall racks. Aris sprinted to the left, aiming for the deeper shadows. Gunfire erupted, echoing loudly enough to rattle the empty shelving. She ducked but kept moving. Milek swerved in front of her. To her right, Specialist Tekla went down.

  “Stop it! Don’t hurt them!” a female voice shouted. “Balias wants them alive!”

  Horror broke through Aris in a bone-shaking wave. The voice had come from behind her. She twisted. Time slowed. In the middle of the warehouse, Pallas stood, unmoving, as Safaran soldiers streamed around her. Betrayal and disblief burned deep in Aris’s gut. Pallas met her gaze, eyes wide, just as a heavy body slammed Aris to the ground.

  Another voice echoed over the din. “The ward only wants Haan and Vadim alive. Kill the rest.”

  Then everything else was lost in the bitter hiss of solagun fire and a woman’s hopeless scream.

  Chapter 21

  Tia screamed as Aris hit the ground. She stepped toward her, but that’s when she saw Baksen. He was frozen in the act of turning back for her—he must have noticed she wasn’t following. Solagun fire hit him as he stood there, staring at her, the realization of what she’d done filling his eyes.

  He crumpled slowly.

  No, Gods no. Not Baksen.

  She collapsed, her knees cracking against the hard, carbonate floor. All around her, men in black uniforms were running, shooting, but all she saw was Baksen, lying in a pool of his own blood. Frantic, she scrambled to his side and pressed her hands against his throat, but they were useless against the rush of red.

  She whispered that she was sorry, over and over. She wished she could tell him that she hadn’t wanted this. Any of it. That her family was being held hostage—that she was just trying to save them—but there wasn’t time. And it didn’t matter—it was no excuse. She deserved him thinking she was a monster.

  His gaze, bitter and glassy, never left her face. Even after his blood stopped pulsing over her fingers and his breath ceased, still he stared.

  Tia bent over him, harsh sobs racking her body. Her nightmares had come to find her. They’d snatched her into their dark maw, driven her to a place from which she’d never, ever return.

  She’d thought planting the firebombs at the stationpoints they took their S and R victims to would be the worst she’d do. She’d prayed they’d never be detonated, that somehow the Safarans would be defeated before they got a chance to use them. Then Spiro blew.

  Tia hadn’t thought she had a soul left to lose after that. But her contacts kept demanding more. The comms from her family showed blank faces tight with terror, reading words they were forced to say. Coded messages asking for specific intel, telling her to betray her own team, threatening torture and death if she didn’t provide answers.

  And she’d done it all. Even as it ate at her, even as the ghosts of the dead walked with her. She kept hoping the messages would stop, and then her heart would seize and she’d pray for one more, just to see her parents’ faces again. Her little brother, whose pale hair hung lank and dirty across his forehead. She couldn’t let them torture her fifteen-year-old brother. Milo was so brave; when he’d found out she’d joined the military in secret, he’d asked her question after question, his eyes lit like candles. He wanted to be like her, and he was planning to volunteer for Military during his Selection ceremony when he turned eighteen.

  She’d spent two weeks at home while she waited for approval to volunteer again—this time as a woman. In those two weeks, her choice had felt like the smartest thing she’d ever done. Even her parents were proud.

 
And then a group of Safaran soldiers had snuck into her house in the middle of the night and kidnapped her family. They’d held her down and made her watch as they restrained her mother so tightly her wrists bled.

  Even then, at the end of her world, Tia hadn’t realized how bad it would get.

  She’d fought the nightmares back, and did as they demanded. She’d reported on Aris’s solo missions to find Elom. Planted the bombs. Shared info about troop movements and the invisible wingjets. She’d convinced herself that there’d be an end. That she’d save Milo, her mother, and her papa, who was in frail health.

  She had to save them.

  But this was too much. It had gone too far.

  A body thudded to the ground next to her. Lieutenant Riatta. By the time Tia looked up from Theo’s blank eyes, Milek and Aris were being dragged away, and Yannis and Nesta were dead. Two Safaran soldiers stood over her, their guns drawn. She bowed her head.

  Tears poured down her cheeks. She cried for her family, for her team, for everything she’d done and how it hadn’t been enough. Too much and yet not enough. She couldn’t free her family, she saw that now. And she didn’t deserve to free herself.

  When the pain came, she welcomed it as her due.

  It wasn’t until later, when she opened her eyes to see Lieutenant Santos and Otto standing over her, that she realized her wounds weren’t fatal.

  Which meant the Safarans wanted more from her.

  She, who had nothing left to give.

  Chapter 22

  Aris wished they’d knock her out. She didn’t want to see the huge welt swelling along Milek’s cheek after a hulking, steel-eyed soldier knocked him to the ground.

  She didn’t want to feel the blood seeping from her wrists or wince at each new bruise as her body rattled around in the Safaran wingjet. The soldiers had restrained her legs and arms but done nothing to keep her or Milek secured as the jet rocked and dove. She read the flyer’s intent in every sudden swerve and dip, every unnecessary change of speed. These soldiers weren’t allowed to kill their cargo, but they would punish them all the same.

  Most of all, she wished she was unconscious so she wouldn’t have to see Pallas’s face in her mind.

  As the jet dipped once again, Aris hung for a split second in the air before slamming into the hard metal ribbing. She grunted from the impact, her whole body aching. Somehow, Milek used the momentary free fall to wedge himself closer to her, so their faces were almost touching. They’d already tried loosening each other’s restraints, but two quick kicks from their guards had disabused them of that plan.

  “I still can’t believe it was Pallas. I trusted her.” Icy disbelief still coursed through her.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Milek whispered. “It’s done. We need to focus on getting out of this.”

  “Getting out of this?” Aris choked on the words. Ward Balias probably just wanted the pleasure of killing them himself.

  “Yes. This isn’t over for us, Aris.” He pressed his forehead harder against hers, straining against his bonds as if he could yank free of them and throw his arms around her. “They took us alive for a reason.”

  Aris lifted her chin and cricked her neck until their lips met. She wasn’t willing to give up yet, but she couldn’t help the tears that slid out of her eyes. Milek kissed her back, and she could feel the fear behind his determination. Her tears fell faster.

  Pain exploded in her side. She cried out and tried to shift away from the heavy boot that kicked her, again and again.

  “None of that now,” the Safaran soldier drawled. His small, piggin eyes appraised her. “This isn’t that kind of establishment.”

  Aris glared at him, promising herself that if she ever had the opportunity, she’d kill him. Milek wriggled against her back. And then, suddenly, he staggered to his feet. While their two guards were focused on Aris, he’d worked his hands down his back, around his legs. His restrained hands now in front instead of trapped behind him, he launched himself at the soldier who’d kicked her, wrapping the thin metal shackles around his throat. The man struggled, his eyes bugging. Milek ignored all efforts to disengage him; his face glowed with hatred so intense, Aris almost expected the soldier to die from its venom alone.

  The other guard shouted. Aris rolled toward him, banging into his ankles just as he stood up to help his partner, sending him into a heap on top of her.

  He elbowed her in the stomach, knocking the breath from her lungs. Above them, the choking sounds sputtered to silence.

  “Bitch,” he spat, and then he slammed her head against the floor of the wingjet, and the oblivion she’d wished for swept her away.

  ***

  “Aris,” a voice whispered at the edge of the darkness. “Wake up, Aris. Please wake up.”

  She didn’t want to wake up. There was a cruel reality teasing her consciousness, and she wasn’t ready to face it. But every bruise under her skin flamed to life, and the pain wouldn’t let her sleep. With a groan, she opened her eyes.

  Metal bars formed a wall in front of her face. Her body screamed as she eased herself up, the floor cold against her palms. She was in a long, narrow hallway lined with cells.

  No, not cells.

  Cages.

  “Aris.”

  She turned and found Milek in the cage next to hers. His swollen, bleeding hands gripped the bars so tightly she wondered if he’d been trying to pry them apart.

  She scooted toward him, ignoring the knives of pain stabbing her legs, and reached through the bars, cradling his face. His scar had disappeared beneath a crusted layer of blood from a gash in his forehead. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and his lip still oozed fresh blood. Dark blue bruises shadowed his chin and temple. “Gods, Milek,” she breathed. “What did they do to you?”

  He leaned his forehead against the bars but didn’t break eye contact. “I killed the soldier who kicked you. The other one wasn’t too happy about it.”

  Shadows hid behind his clear, blue eyes. He’d made his play for their freedom. He’d killed. And it hadn’t done them a damn bit of good.

  She smoothed gentle fingers through his hair. “We won’t stop fighting.”

  “I can’t fight steel bars.” His hand reached up and clasped hers, holding it against the less-bruised cheek. “I love you, Aris.”

  “Don’t say it like that,” she said, swallowing back tears. “Like you’re afraid you won’t get another chance.” She was grateful that he was here with her, that she wasn’t alone, even though she should have wished he were anywhere else. Somewhere safe.

  Suddenly, a new thought filled her mind, a thread of hope.

  “Do you think they’ll send Elom to torture us?” she asked, her voice as fearful as she could make it, in case someone was listening.

  His eyes widened slightly. He nodded slowly to show he understood.

  If they could get near Alistar, they could send a message back to Mekia. She wasn’t sure if Pallas was alive or dead, but either way, Commander Nyx needed to know who the spy was.

  Aris hoped she was still alive. She wanted Pallas to pay for her betrayal in a million different, painful ways.

  A metallic scrape filled the air as a door opened. The prisoners in the cages around them startled into wakefulness. Some moaned. Other screamed.

  Heavy footsteps.

  Aris’s heart pounded. She wasn’t surprised when the four soldiers ignored the other prisoners, heading straight for her and Milek.

  She searched for Elom’s bald head, but he wasn’t among them.

  “This one,” the lead soldier said, gesturing to Milek’s cell. He stood back to give his men room to unlock the cage.

  Aris tightened her grip on Milek’s hands and pressed her forehead to his, stifling a whimper. “No . . . no . . .”

  “I’ll be okay. It’s gonna be okay,” Milek murmured, and the words were
a tiny comfort, even though neither of them believed anything was going to be okay.

  Two of the soldiers hauled on his arms. He kept his grip on the bars for a few seconds, but it was no use. The third soldier cuffed him in the head and he slumped, his arms going slack.

  Aris reached desperately for him through the bars as they dragged him across the floor, as if somehow, if she just tried hard enough, she could slip through the narrow space and follow. She could save him.

  “Don’t you hurt him!” Her ragged scream joined those of the other prisoners.

  At the sound of her voice, Milek fought his captors more fiercely, growling like a wild thing, his face dripping blood. “Aris,” he yelled, and her name was a cry, a prayer, a promise. It was everything and nothing, a flaming arrow in the dark.

  Chapter 23

  Galena burst onto the balcony without waiting for Kellan to announce her. “Tell me you have something.”

  Pyralis was standing with his hands on the railing, staring out into the trees. The first gray hint of dawn lightened the sky. When she spoke, he turned around. His face was pale with exhaustion, and his stricken expression offered her no comfort.

  She’d been in Sibetza when the news came through. The flight back to Atalanta had been the longest of her life.

  “It’s been four hours, Pyralis,” she said. “My son was abducted four hours ago. Tell me you have news by now.” Her voice vibrated with fury.

  They’d had so many close calls: Milek’s mission into Safara to rescue her, then Aris; the bombing of Spiro. And every time, somehow, her son had made it out. But not this time.

  And that was blighting unacceptable.

  “Nothing conclusive yet. I’m sorry.” When she opened her mouth, he held up his hands. “I’m trying, Galena, but there’s a lot of confusion. This is what we know: Shortly after the raid on the warehouse began, Alistar was ordered to return to the palace without ever retrieving the weapon. It’s unclear why. Lieutenant Santos made the judgment to not engage, instead flying to the warehouse to assess damage and retrieve survivors. A good call, I think. Ward Balias did not confide in Alistar about the trap, if that’s what it indeed was. We don’t know yet if his cover has been blown. We do know that our fake intel breach was found. The scientist we framed has been detained for questioning. It will take them a while to unravel that thread.”