Page 6 of Rogue: Planet Athion
“We’ll talk later,” Anton said before jogging back to his.
I stepped back into mine as the door began to trundle closed. Only one crazy Trad had tried remaining outside of his cell after the buzzer, and he’d fried for his efforts. Not a pretty sight.
The main doors to the corridor opened with a beep. It was time for the gruel, and my stomach rumbled in anticipation. Time to fuel up, because I was going to need every ounce of energy to save my life.
3
“You awake, Rogue?” Anton’s voice drifted in through the bars to my cell.
“No, I’m fast asleep.”
He chuckled. “What did Jurak say to you earlier.”
“Nothing much. He just wanted to reiterate the fact that we needed to work together in the arena.”
“I don’t trust them … Any of them.”
He was referring to the Trads, of course, and who could blame him. They were the reason we were here, after all. But something about Jurak today, something in his eyes, had been different, almost too calm and desolate. Yes, desolate. Up until now, I’d seen only fire and desire and rage. But today there’d been guilt and sorrow in the dark blue depths of his eyes.
“He was acting strange, though.”
“Strange how?”
“I can’t explain it. Justnotlike a total psychopath.”
“They’re all psychopaths. Kidnapping, murdering bastards.”
“Here, here,” Killion chimed in.
Thank God the trio weren’t on this corridor, otherwise, they’d have something to say. Not that it mattered what they thought.
“Marlon? You awake?”
Silence greeted us.
“Sleeping beauty knackered himself out earlier,” Killion said, swallowing a yawn. “But it was so worth it.” He gave a dirty chuckle and then fell into silence.
Long minutes ticked by, and my eyes grew heavy. But then Anton’s soft voice filtered through the darkness.
“It will be all right, Rogue. I promise it will be all right.”
And in that moment between wakefulness and sleep, I believed him.
* * *
My stomach was churning as I waited for the doors to open the next morning. No idea why, because it was the same shit, just a different day, and if we were fighting, we’d have been notified first thing in the morning. But something felt off, something was about to happen.
“Open already,” Marlon drawled from his cell.
He was right, the doors should be open by now.
“Something’s wrong,” Anton called out.
Long minutes ticked by, probably a half hour longer than usual—my body clock was pretty spot-on when it came to the routine here.
“Hey!” Killion called out. “What the fuck? Let us out.”
My pulse picked up. What if something had gone wrong out there? What if we were stuck here in these cells? Panic coursed hot through my veins and then thewhirrand sliding grate of the outer doors filled the corridor outside my cell. Boot falls echoed down the corridor, and then figures appeared in my line of vision. Guards dressed in gray escorting a larger figure dressed in black. I caught a flash of his hair, silver threaded with pale blue, and the chiseled plane of his dark blue cheek as they propelled him toward the cell opposite mine—the one that had been empty since forever. He was larger than them by half a head, and these were Trad guards. Yes, the Athion was huge enough to rival Marlon’s stature, and just before they shoved him into what would be his home for the rest of his life, he turned his head to look my way, and I caught a glimpse of pale blue eyes set against indigo skin that seemed to shimmer. My breath caught in my throat, because damn, he was beautiful. His eyes widened a fraction, and then he was blocked from view by the guards. They stepped back a moment later, and the doors to the new Athion’s cell slid closed. The guards walked away, and the Athion stepped up to the barred window.
