Brightly Burning(87)

My eyes flicked to Captain Karlson, standing behind him, expression grim. Behind them were two massive figures wearing security jackets, one holding a pair of handcuffs.

“You can’t take her!” Jon shouted, breaking away from me and going for Mason. His uncle intervened before he could do any damage.

“Indeed I can. She’s been charged with treason for betraying government secrets and inducing panic.”

“You’re the one who should be charged with treason. You’re a murderer,” Jon spat.

“Yes, well, as I’m the one controlling the narrative, it will be Miss Ainsley who will serve as an example.”

Their exchange became nothing but a roaring in my ears, noise filling the space between my thoughts. The sentence for treason was death. My vision went white at the edges, and the world tilted on its axis.

I was going to die.


Chapter Twenty-Nine


Jon caught me before I hit the ground. As he helped me back to my feet, I caught sight of Mason’s smug expression, and suddenly I felt the full-body flush of embarrassment. Nearly fainting when I should be strong. Defiant. I would go bravely to my death—?

A sob broke from my chest, tears springing to my eyes. Or not.

Jon crushed me in a hug, and I heard the captain’s gruff voice behind me.

“She’s only a child, Mr. Mason. You’ve kept your job by the skin of your teeth and achieved your purge of many hundreds. Leave her be.”

“No,” he said, simple as that. I felt the heat of the two security guards at my side, then the icy grip of a handcuff as it encircled my wrist. They tore me away from Jon, wrenching my arms behind my back to complete the metal link. Everything progressed in slow motion. Mason slunk over, and with a snap of his fingers, they began to haul me away. I dragged my feet to slow their progress back to their shuttle, until the bigger of the two security guards hauled me up in her arms like a baby. The last thing I saw before they threw me inside their transport was Jon whispering furiously to his uncle.

And that was it. The last I’d ever see of them. Heavy tears trailed down my cheeks as they strapped me into my chair. My wrists dug painfully into the small of my back, arm sockets aching from the strain. I willed my breath steady, my tears to slow and dry. I would not offer them anything else of myself. I waited for the engines to start, determined to depart with dignity.

We sat for five minutes before I sensed something was wrong.

“Frex you, Karlson!” I heard Mason shout from the cockpit. Then a quieter but no less aggressive, “Yes, of course I want somewhere to keep her while you frexing fix it. Better fix it quickly or I’ll bring you up on charges of obstruction. And see to it that I have sufficiently fine quarters to sleep in.”

“What’s happening?” I dared ask the male security guard, who came back to unstrap me. He made reluctant eye contact, flinching. I couldn’t miss the pity in his expression.

“Power’s gone out in the airlocks, so we can’t leave yet.”

“Frex this trash bucket and its frexing malfunctions.” Mason tore through the hold, past me, and down the stairs.

As the guard hauled me back into the dark transport bay and frogmarched me past the captain, his expression unreadable behind his flashlight beam, hope sparked in my stomach. Perhaps my friends had bought me time.


It came as some surprise that the Stalwart had a brig on board. By the looks of it, she hadn’t seen company in many decades. The metal bled with water damage, and the door creaked out a protest as the male guard pried it open. Most antiquated of all, it locked with a physical key! No way my friends could hack their way in and get me out. I watched from my perch on a rusted metal bed as he pocketed it and took a seat across from me for first watch.

“Aren’t you tired?” I asked. He glared.

“We’re taking it in shifts.”

“What’s your name?”

More glaring. But he acquiesced. “Callum. Now be quiet.”

“I’m Stella. I’m eighteen.” I knew I was being manipulative, trying to appeal to his humanity. But fear rendered me shameless.

“Quiet.” He turned away and would not look at me.

Silence became my companion over the next hours. I could not sleep on the moldy thing they called a mattress; I was too keyed up to sleep, even if it had been in pristine condition. The female guard came to relieve Callum, and I asked the time. They were on six-hour shifts. He handed off the key, and as she sat down, I caught a glimpse of a gun at her waist. It shot holes through the hope I’d been clinging to. If my friends attempted rescue, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

If they attempted rescue.

I was starting to feel stupid at the hope of it. That my friends in engineering had purposely shut power to the transport bay to buy me time. Time for what? They couldn’t overpower the guard without someone getting hurt, and I couldn’t bear anyone dying on my behalf. The lights flickered off, the guard’s curse piercing the darkness. Another blackout to prove the happenstance of the first. The flicker of hope died out, and my body forced sleep upon me.


I awoke to light and the return of Callum. At least twelve hours gone, then.

“They still haven’t fixed the landing bay?”

“Apparently not.”

At least he answered me.

“It’s good you’re up.” He moved to the door, picking up an ancient comms phone and speaking into it. “Send them down.” He turned to me, returning to his chair. “Your captain lobbied on your behalf for a last kindness, given the delay.”