Rebel Born (Secondborn #3)(63)

I stagger over shards of porcelain and jagged metal, slipping and getting back to my feet, until I make it to Hawthorne and the glass wall. I scream his name. My palm splays on the cold surface, and I slam against it, mirroring Hawthorne’s actions. He recognizes me—or maybe he doesn’t. He’s shouting something else now, telling me something, but I can’t hear him. I place both my hands on the glass and force it to move. A crack streaks over the surface.

Before I can break it apart, Cherno tackles me from behind. His strong arms snake around me, collapsing my lungs.

I gasp for air, hollering breathlessly, “It’s Hawthorne. He’s here. Let him in! It’s Hawthorne! Hawthorne!”





Chapter 12

The Vanity of Kingdoms

Hammon and Edgerton shout orders into their wrist communicators at the same time. “We have a possible breech, level one dining area,” one of them says. “We need all available maintenance personnel here now. Be ready to seal the hatches around the main dining area should the wall fail to hold.”

Reykin and Clifton try to calm me while Cherno holds me in a death grip. I plead with them, “You have to let him in!”

Reykin’s intense eyes bore into mine. “No one’s there. Roselle, we’re at the bottom of the sea! No one could survive out there, not even Crow’s cyborgs!”

I stop fighting and close my eyes. A sob catches in my throat, but I can’t cry, because I have no air. I look again. Reykin’s right. Hawthorne’s gone. No one’s there.

Something daubs my skin. Opening my eyes, I see Reykin dabbing at my nose with a napkin. “Let her go, Cherno,” he orders. “You’re going to hurt her.” Blood seeps into the linen in Reykin’s hands. He folds it, finds a clean spot, and dabs again.

“If I let you go, Roselle,” Cherno says in my ear, “will you promise not to try to break the glass wall behind us?”

“Yes.”

The pressure eases, but Cherno doesn’t let go. He sits us on the ground beneath the cracked panel.

“Who am I, Roselle?” Reykin asks.

I try to focus. “You’re Reykin Winterstrom. Firstborn—from Stars.”

“That’s right.” He gives me a relieved smile. “And who’s this next to me?”

Following the gesture of his hand, I glance at Clifton. “Firstborn Clifton Salloway from Swords . . . I mean he’s Cassius . . . I don’t remember him telling me his real last name . . .”

Reykin smiles. He wipes my lip with gentle strokes of the napkin. “Maybe we should call him Cassius Ruin—would that work?” He’s devastatingly handsome when he smiles. Too bad he doesn’t do that often. And that we fight all the time.

Behind me, Cherno growls in my ear, “You need to hone your power if we hope to defeat Crow. I will work with you to make you stronger.”

Reykin takes my hand. “We should get out of this room until it’s secure.”

Clifton evaluates the window behind me. “It should hold. It’s meant to withstand an avalanche of falling rock.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper past the growing lump in my throat. “I thought I saw Hawthorne. I’m not sure what’s happening to me. I need to talk to Ransom Winterstrom.”

Clifton crouches next to Reykin. “I can arrange that, Roselle. He’s aboard one of my vessels. I can take us to him. Go to the infirmary here. Have them make sure you’re okay. We can leave as soon as you’re ready. Does that work for you?”

“Yes,” I say.

“I’m going with her,” Reykin announces. “I need to see my brother as well.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Clifton replies.

“Wherever Roselle goes, I go,” Cherno says, glowering behind me.

Clifton seems annoyed by the thought of Cherno joining us, but he nods. “We will leave in a few hours.”



I decline to answer questions from the medical staff in the Sozo One’s infirmary.

It’s too hard to explain that I have a device in my head that may be making me hallucinate. It’s pointless. They don’t understand Ransom’s technology. They don’t know why my nose bled after I tried to break the transparent wall in the dining room. They want to run tests—scan my head, see what’s going on in my brain. But I refuse. I don’t trust anyone but Ransom to do that.

When their backs are turned, I slide off the exam table and sneak out of the medical center into a hallway. Still a bit dizzy, I put my hand on the wall and hurry through the twist of corridors, trying to stumble back to my room. When I find it, I breathe a sigh of relief. Once inside, I close the door. Rogue isn’t here to greet me. Reykin gave my puppy to Phoenix to take care of while we toured the vessel. The mechadome’s probably walking Rogue around one of the simulated sundecks.

I go to the bottom bunk. Slouching on the thin mattress, with my elbows on my knees, I bow my head and hold my face in my hands. Sobs wrack my body. I can’t keep them in. Tears roll down my cheeks. Snot runs from my nose. Wretchedly, I use my sleeve to wipe my face, and then I tug my boots off and throw them across the room in rage.

I don’t know what anything means or what’s happening to me. Was that Hawthorne I saw? Was it a phantom of my imagination—my guilt torturing me? Or worse, was it Crow playing games with me? Whatever this thing’s doing in my head, it’s rendering me one of the most powerful beings in the world, but vulnerable to Spectrum’s control. I’m changing, and I’m powerless to stop it.