I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. “I’m going to kill you,” I whisper.
Marrok leans in, his breath hot against my face. “You’re welcome to try… with one arm.” He laughs sharply. “I know you, Troka. You’d gnaw through your own limb to get free. Do it. Bleed out. Make my point for me.”
I flex against the chains, pretending to struggle harder, testing the slack. He’s right — I was about to do exactly that. My wrists are raw, tacky with blood. The pillar hums with energy, heat radiating through the steel into my spine.
Marrok’s men watch in uneasy silence. Even now, some of them keep darting glances at their leader — the way his voice cracks, the manic light in his eye. They’re afraid of him. They should be.
Beside me, Alaina shifts slightly. She’s slicking something on her wrists — I catch a whiff of lavender and cocoa butter, a smell so wildly out of place here it almost makes me dizzy. She’s rubbing her stretch mark lotion along the cords binding her hands, slow, deliberate.
Marrok turns, barking orders to his lieutenants. “Tie them tighter. Arm the last charges. Move the civilians into position at the north exit.” His voice rises over the noise, commanding. His red eye flashes as he scans the room. “We leave in five minutes.”
One of the gang members hesitates. “Boss… five minutes? The charges aren’t?—”
“Do it!” Marrok bellows. The man scurries away.
Alaina leans just enough for me to hear her. Her lips barely move. “It’s working,” she breathes. “Almost loose.”
I keep my head down, jaw clenched, whispering back: “Hurry. He’s got Caelix.”
She keeps working. Her wrists twist, lotion glistening in the harsh red light. The cord begins to slip, millimeter by millimeter. My heart pounds with each tiny motion.
Marrok’s voice cuts through the hall again. “Look at them,” he snarls to his men, gesturing at us. “Two symbols of weakness. Love. Family. Betrayal. This is why we lost on Horus IV. This softness. This hesitation.” He shakes Caelix once, not roughly but with an awful familiarity. “This boy will never hesitate. I’ll see to it.”
I bare my teeth. “Put him down,” I say.
Marrok laughs, sharp and wild. “Or what? You’ll gnaw your way out and strangle me with your bloody stump? Do it, soldier. Show me what kind of animal you are.”
Alaina’s wrists slip free. She drops her hands to her lap like nothing’s changed, then quietly tugs at the cord on her ankles. She leans close, whispering: “I can reach the bomb box.”
I whisper back: “You know which wire?”
“No,” she breathes. “Do you?”
I test the chain again, grunting for show. “I can see the underside if you can reach the front. You’ll have to trust me.”
She bites her lip. Her fingers brush mine as she leans past me, slick and quick, sliding her hand into the mess of blinkingwires on the pillar. The charges hum louder now, a living thing. The heat from them makes sweat bead on my brow.
“Troka,” she whispers, “I can’t tell which is which. They’re all glowing.”
I twist my head, trying to angle a view under the bomb box. My arm muscles scream. “Bottom left — there’s a green line. Follow it to the coupling.”
Her hand moves. Sparks jump where her fingers brush the wires.
“Marrok’s looking,” I murmur.
She stops, goes still, head bowed like she’s crying. Marrok glances back, smirks, then turns away again, barking at his lieutenants to move the hostages into a tighter cluster.
Alaina whispers: “What if it’s the wrong wire?”
“Then we’re paste,” I whisper back. “Cut it clean. Don’t pull.”
Her hand trembles. Caelix cries somewhere across the hall — a thin, high sound that slices straight through me. My teeth grind. My hands curl into fists, useless against the chains.
“Do it,” I breathe.
She slides a nail under the insulation. The wire vibrates against her touch. Sparks pop, faint and angry. My heart beats so loud I can hear it in my ears.
“Troka—” she whispers.
