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He’d started considering her words, looking for the right clarity and the right moment to fix things. She knew everything about him andstilldidn’t look at him with hatred.
He had to believe he could make amends.
But it was impossible to think with the boiling pressure building under his carapace. He’d been dangerously charged since seeing Terry Collins’s message on her screen.
Did Lucca know how evil the human was? He was the dirtiest fighter Caligher had ever known. If he caught onto what had become of Lucca and Caligher, Terry Collins would use that against them. Without hesitation.
Caligher needed to have his discussion with her but the pain in his body had reduced him to half-hearted grunts and single-worded answers. Their little reprieve in the cockpit had shown him that. He could barely form a complete sentence.
He worried that if he opened his mouth, he’d do something impulsive and selfish—give in to what the spark screamed at him to do. Shoot the pirate off in her ship and say good riddance. Fly into the darkness with Lucca, only Lucca—to a realm where none of their sweet nothings could ever be put to the fire.
Sharp waves of fire spread from his veins to his shell’s surface, consuming him in paralyzing agony. It happened so fast—he didn’t notice it creeping up while he fantasized about a happier life.
A stabbing cramp hit him, demanding acknowledgment. He forced himself to look down at his arms.
“Shit.”
Light oozed from the hair-fine cracks that erupted all over him.
“Shit, shit,shit.Not now.”
Yes, now.
It was happening now.
And it was entirely his fault.
He shot to his feet, floored by oncoming waves of bone-deep spasms. No.No. He had to get to Lucca. Had to let her out—explain what was happening—and make sure she wasn’t abandoned in that cell to slowlystarveto fucking death. His mind raced with fear.
Had to.Had to.
Another wave surged through him. staggered him, reduced him to impulse and the base drive to make it stop.
Words, reason, choice—ceased to exist.
The medical room—or Lucca. He chose to crawl to Lucca.
He felt the moment his strength gave out. He collapsed on the metallic floor, trapped beneath a mountain of mind-breaking torture.
Caligher was molting.
* * *
LUCCA
It was too quiet.
Her spine straightened. A hair-raising sense tinged the air. She stopped breathing to listen.
She couldn’t hear Caligher—not his footsteps, not the shifting and settling of his weight, not his voice. Sure, he didn’tcontinuouslywalk, talk, eat, or whatever, but she could always hearhim.
“You sense it too?” The question came from Astyanax’s cell, and made her remember to start breathing. She slipped off her bed and padded to the glass door. The pirate’s eyes were fixed on the main door to the dungeon.
“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” she said.
“Very.”
An urgent instinct filled her with claustrophobia, and a sweeping, sharp panic. Something bad had happened to Caligher, and she couldn’t get to him.
