Page 55 of Sixth
“For needing that.”
He looked down at her, unreadable. “Need is not weakness.”
The words vibrated through her chest long after he releasedher.
The corridor opened into a chamber where stasis pods glowed in the dark like lanterns in water. Her breath left her in a tremor. For a moment she simply stood, hand against Apex’s arm, picking up on the tremor under his skin as he saw what she saw: two of his brothers and two women—one of them her sister, Hannah—suspended in that cold light.
Forcing herself to focus, she went to work. Fingers flew. Breath steadied. Her own heartbeat’s cadence, guided by Apex’s quiet instructions and Core’s steady hum, threaded the cold logic of the console until her hands and the machine found a rhythm.
She broke the data leash first, aquiet, vicious pleasure, then eased the environmental seals one degree at a time, listening tothe pitch of the pumps like a mechanic listening to an engine that matters.
The pod seams flashed amber, then green.
“Apex,” she said.
He was already there, bracing to take Locus’s bulk. When he lifted his brother out of the gel, the tendons in his forearms stood out in stark relief and his expression didn’t change, but the mark on Emmy’s wrist surged hot with a wave so fierce she had to bite her lip to keep from making a sound.
“Hannah next,” she told Core, and moved. When the seal released she caught her sister against her chest. Cold. Heavy. Alive. “Hey,” she breathed into damp hair. “I’ve got you.”
Apex hovered several paces back—heat, shield, promise—while she checked pulse and respiration. The bond brushed against her consciousness, carrying both his sharp focus and the concern he tried to bury, heavy and electric beneath her skin. She turned her head and he met her eyes across the chamber. The world fell away until there was only the two of them breathing in unison, and the living rhythm of the people they were trying tosave.
As she pressed her mouth to Hannah’s temple, Apex joined her, his body a barrier of heat and tension. His hand came to rest just above her shoulder for a single, searing heartbeat, not quite a touch and somehow more thanone.
The want that lived beneath her ribs surged up, basic and inconvenient and real. She swallowed it because there were lives in her arms, and because he was a promise she wasn’t ready to break open in a room full of machines.
His voice was quiet but absolute. “We will not fail them.”
She nodded, because she couldn’t speak. Then she turned toward the last two pods, the faint light reflecting off her trembling hands. Apex joined her without a word. Together they disengaged the locks that held First andWinn.
The seals broke with a hiss, and steam rolled over them as the chamber filled with the scent of thawing gel. Apex lifted his youngest brother from the pod while Emmy steadied Winn’s limp, pregnant form, checking for the rise of her chest. Both breathed, shallow but alive. Relief hit her so hard it made her dizzy. She managed a nod in Apex’s direction, and he returned it once—barely a movement, but enough. Only then did the two of them allow a single breath of victory before the world began to change aroundthem.
The air thickened. The color of the light shifted from blue to red. She saw the change before Core announced it. The hum in the walls turned hungry. The Valenmark pulsed once, hard, as if to warn her. She spun toward Apex at the same instant he straightened, his head turning toward the far corridor.
“Someone’s here,” she whispered.
He didn’t answer. His hand brushed hers as he stepped forward, atouch meant to secure her. Apromise.
The overhead speakers crackled. Adistorted laugh rolled through the chamber, metallic and cruel. “You never could resist playing hero, could you?”
Emmy went cold. That voice—she’d only heard it a few times before, but she’d never forget it. “Voss,” she whispered.
The voice purred, heavy with mockery. “Took you long enough to find me, Lord Vettar. Ialmost got bored.”
