Fated Blades (Kinsmen #3)(30)

They’d drunk the temple spring water from the purifier bottles, secured their supplies, and then Matias had stretched out on the temple floor and fallen asleep almost instantly. She was amazed he had lasted that long, with the injuries and that mad sprint through Drewery’s ridiculous mansion. She had taken a single blast from the sonic cannon, and the impact had nearly shattered her bones. He’d taken two. When she looked at his knee two hours ago, it was the size of a red peach and the color of one. She’d injected him with a cocktail of anti-inflammatory painkillers and an accelerated healing booster. If he could avoid falling on his knees in the next week or two, he would be good as new.

She glanced at his supine form. He had an interesting face, all harsh angles, devoid of softness. Matias had a resting kill face. Even when he wasn’t trying to intimidate, he projected a natural grimness that promised swift and brutal retribution.

But right now, asleep, he was relaxed. His expression lost its severe edge. When he forgot to scowl, Matias was a handsome man.

She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. What would his eyes look like when she touched his lips? If she melted that ice and let out the fire, how hot would it burn?

Ramona sighed. She wasn’t in the habit of deluding herself. She liked looking at him and listening to him, she liked the way he thought, and when he thawed enough to show rare splashes of humor, she had a hard time turning away.

She looked out at the woods shivering behind the gray curtain of the rain. Back when she was a young woman, before Gabriel, before the engagement she didn’t want and marriage she had to endure—when that Ramona dreamed about her future husband, she had imagined someone exactly like Matias. He was everything she wanted. Competent. Smart. Dangerous. Decisive. Loyal.

That last one stung so much. She could have forgiven Gabriel so many sins if only he’d been loyal. If only he’d cared for her. She was starved for affection. She had pushed herself so hard trying to get the seco generators to production, and now she was running on fumes. What she needed most was a partner she could rely on. Instead, she had Gabriel.

When she looked back at her life of the past four years, it felt grim, a foreboding sketch in black and white. The color didn’t vanish overnight. It was a slow, gradual desaturation brought about by small choices.

But right now, she saw color. She was beat up, bruised, and tired, but the world was vivid and bright again. It wasn’t Matias, although he was definitely a catalyst. It was the prospect of freedom. The way she’d led her life had gotten out of control. She had to take charge of her own existence. This thing, this mockery of a marriage, which hung around her neck like a heavy weight, had to end. Whatever her future would be, Gabriel would not be a part of it.

Neither would Matias. He was a Baena. That wasn’t something either of them could overcome. She had to get him out of her mind.

She’d only known him for one day, anyway.

He’d thrown his arm in front of her to shield her from the crash. What a dirty move. That bastard.

“What time is it?” Matias asked.

“A few minutes before midnight.”

He sat up, grimacing. The painkiller must have worn off. “Any luck on the uplink?”

“Yes.”

He studied her face. “Hit me.”

“There is a Vandal cruiser directly above us in midorbit. They claim that one of our satellites suffered a mechanical malfunction and collided with their ship. They are ‘performing repairs.’”

“They knocked out the satellite to make sure we don’t call for help, shot us down, and now they’re waiting to see if we survived.”

“That sums it up. The Orbital Traffic Control had put a hole in their plans by launching the replacement satellite, which is why we have the uplink, and they made them shift to higher orbit, but the cruiser is hanging above us.”

“Well, it’s a good plan.” Matias stretched his injured leg and winced. “How long before the OC shifts them to a different lane?”

She smiled. “They have three cycles to comply, or the OTC will board them to assess and repair any damage themselves. That leaves us with a few options. One, we can file a formal report and ask for an investigation to be launched.”

“Pass,” he said.

She agreed. A formal spotlight on their activities was the last thing they needed.

“Two, we can get ourselves rescued. Your family or my family, take your pick.”

“Pass.”

She agreed again. “According to my OTC contact, the Vandals are too far out to pick us up with their sensors. Too much biomass and too much cloud cover. They would have to launch a probe, and with the OTC scrutinizing their every twitch, they won’t chance it. Right now, the Vandals don’t know if we’re dead or alive. They’ve registered the crash, they think we’re dead, and they’re doing their due diligence. But a moving aerial is a lot easier to spot than two humans in the old woods with a smoke-absorbing temple.”

“Which leaves us with the third option,” Matias said. “We play dead for three days, until the OTC chases the Vandals off.”

“It would be best if they thought we wouldn’t crash their party in Adra.”

Matias glanced at her. “Why do I have a feeling that more bad news is coming?”

“Janus got back to me.”

“The immigration guy with the spaniel?”