Destin's Hold (The Alliance #5)(33)

Dropping his hand to his side, he veered in the opposite direction from his initial destination. He needed a quiet place to think. On a ship, that wasn’t easy to find, even in the designated quiet rooms. Turning again, he stepped into one of the lifts.

“Level thirty-two,” he murmured, leaning back against the wall.

A minute later, he was exiting onto Level Thirty-two. He nodded to several warriors when he passed them. Turning left, he paused long enough for the door to open. He drew in a deep breath and glanced around the training room. It was teeming with warriors. Some sparred while others worked out. While the room might be well occupied, there were still some places where he preferred to go that they couldn’t.

Rolling his head on his shoulders, he loosened the muscles in his arms. He drew in several deep, calming breaths, mapping the room in his mind. Bench, mat, far bench, foot rail, metal framing, ventilation ducts. The move formed in his mind and replayed over and over until he mentally closed everyone and everything else out.

He walked to a spot by the wall that was a several feet from two long benches against the wall separated by the end of a large sparring mat. The farthest bench ended at the corner of the room. Taking off at a run, Destin jumped on the first bench, and ran across it before he did a flip off the end. He tumbled across the mat, and jumped onto the second bench at top speed, one foot on the seat, then the back before he rotated in midair and grabbed the bottom of a foot rail that was connected to an access ladder almost a foot above his head.

Destin pulled himself up, climbing to the top and stepping onto the large support beam that ran across the length of the training room. He ignored the chuckles and exclamations from under him. With a silent wave to the men below, he sprinted across it to the ventilation access. He pulled up on the metal rod holding it closed, opened the grating, and disappeared inside. Behind him, the metal door snapped closed.

The vent was narrow for about ten meters, so he had to stoop down. After that, it opened up and he was able to walk unimpeded. He paused, glancing at the walls. He had discovered this method of escaping Trig a week after they had boarded. The Trivator was pretty good at keeping up with him. During one of the rare times when Sula had been working an odd shift and Trig had thought he was with her, Destin had decided to do some exploring. The training room had been packed, so he had retreated to where he felt the most comfortable, up.

He glanced at the wall again and turned. He had made notations on it. He had discovered one that led to the deck where his living quarters were located. Following the symbols, he climbed the narrow access rungs in the tubes leading from one level to the next.



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Almost thirty minutes later, Destin could feel the burn in his arms and legs and knew he’d had a good workout. Walking along the side, he glanced down through the vents, occasionally catching sight of people moving about the ship. He reached the ladder to the last level and climbed up. At the end of the next vent, there was a larger service access where he could exit and drop down into the corridor.

Destin bent down, waiting for several people to pass before he opened the access panel, carefully lowered himself down, and released the edge, dropping the remaining few feet to the floor. Reaching up, he grabbed the grate, jumped and released it in one motion so the magnetic latch could close the grate. He strode down to his living quarters and entered.

Glancing at the time, he noted he had plenty of time to get a shower before Sula returned. He might even meet her when she got off and they could get an early dinner. He removed his clothes, and placed them in the cleaning unit, then stepped into the shower. Closing his eyes, he stood under the heavy mist for almost a minute before he shook his head at his wandering thoughts.

Exiting the shower, he waited for the air dryer to dry him before he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He reached for the comb and ran it through his hair. It was getting long again and he’d need to get it cut. He preferred his hair short.

He turned when he heard the outer door open. A grin curved his lips. Sula was back early. Stepping toward the door, he paused when he heard her speaking to someone. Glancing down at the towel, he decided it would probably not be a good idea to walk out.

“I told you I would discover what information had been found pertaining to the missing women,” Sula was saying.

“We need to make sure each of them is accounted for,” a male voice responded.



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“Andric, the records I accessed showed that eighteen are still unaccounted for,” Sula murmured, kicking off her shoes and wiggling her toes.

“What about the male you have befriended? Surely he can give you more information on the situation,” Andric demanded. “Father wants the females found before it is too late.”

“I am very much aware of what Father wants,” Sula stated in an exasperated tone.

“You are lucky he gave you a second chance to gather the information,” Andric said. “Have you accessed the human male’s files yet?”

Sula wanted to make a face at her brother, but knew it wouldn’t do anything but send him off on another tangent. She wanted to remind him that it hadn’t been her fault that the information had been wiped off of Badrick’s computers before she could access them. Instead, she bit her lip to keep from aggravating him. He was also doing everything he could to search for the females – especially one in particular.