Starflight (Starflight, #1)(32)

Doran’s ears pounded, forcing the argument to his periphery. He mumbled a hasty promise to compensate the crew for all the trouble he’d caused and then stumbled down the stairs on weak knees. He didn’t remember the trip back to his room, but the next thing he knew, he was sitting on the bed, staring at the wall.

What was he going to do next?

He had no way to reach his father. He might be able to send a message to his friends, but if Ava had sold him out, it stood to reason they would do the same. He didn’t know where to go, and every minute he spent on the run would make him look more guilty. Maybe he should turn himself in and trust the Spaulding attorneys to untangle this mess.

Too bad he was fresh out of trust.

A quick knock sounded at the door, and Solara stepped inside. She didn’t say anything, but he had a pretty good idea what was on her mind.

“You were right,” he told her. “Go ahead and say it.”

“I’m not here to gloat.”

“Yes, you are.” He would gloat if their roles were reversed. “Just leave me alone.”

“I want to show you something first.”

Doran was about to snap at her, but she stunned him into silence by peeling off her gloves and tucking them in her back pocket. Then she displayed her tattoos and gave him an eyeful. It would’ve shocked him less if she’d stripped nude.

She sat beside him on the bed and held a hand between them. From left to right in bold black ink, the markings read SLPC 33.87, SLPC 43.14.

“It’s Solar League Penal Code,” she explained. “The first number is for grand theft, and the second is for conspiracy. What that basically means is that I stole something worth a lot of money and tried to convince other people to help me.” She glanced at him. “But only the first part is true.”

He waited for her to go on.

“I never told anyone what really happened,” she said. “Not even the Enforcers who arrested me. But I’ll tell you if you still want to know.”

Once Doran managed to close his mouth, he nodded.

“It started with a boy,” she said while staring across the room. “He was an orphan like me, but nineteen and emancipated, with a job and an apartment that he shared with a few other guys. He wasn’t gorgeous or anything, but he paid attention to me. He always smiled when I walked by.” Going quiet for a moment, she picked at a cuticle. “No one ever looked at me the way he did. Like every other girl in town was ordinary and I was on fire.”

“Was he your boyfriend?” Doran asked.

She nodded. “He was my first boyfriend. My first love. My first kiss. And my first”—her cheeks flooded with color—“well, everything.”

“Everything,” he echoed in understanding. That was a lot of firsts for one boy to take from a girl. Doran could sense where this story was headed.

“Once he had me hooked,” she said, “he told me about a group of revolutionaries called the Patron Brotherhood. They were going to change the world—feed the hungry, help the poor, make it so everyone could afford to live on Earth. But to do that, they needed money.”

“Of course they did,” Doran said. He’d heard of this scam. “What did he ask you to steal?”

“The coolant coils and buffering plates from city trams,” she told him. “Worth a fortune on the black market. And there were a bunch of us in on it. We’d steal the parts, and then he would fence them and send the money to the Brotherhood.”

“Which didn’t exist.”

“And I had no idea,” she said. “When the Enforcers busted us, I stayed true to the cause. I told them nothing—didn’t say a word to defend myself. Not even when they offered me a plea deal.”

Doran was willing to bet her boyfriend hadn’t extended the same courtesy.

“And the whole time,” she went on, “he was pinning the operation on me.” She shook her head and scoffed. “In exchange for full immunity.”

“And because you refused to talk…”

“I took the blame by default.” She retrieved her gloves and pulled them on one slow finger at a time, as if telling the story had drained her. “The only reason I’m not in a penal colony is because the judge didn’t believe I was the ringleader.” She grinned. “I guess criminal masterminds don’t sob during their trials the way I did.”

“What happened to the boyfriend?” Doran asked.

Solara shrugged and traced a leather seam with her fingertip. “Nothing. I imagine he’s still running around out there, looking for new hearts to steal.”

Doran didn’t like hearing that.

“He told me I was special,” she said quietly. “And that was all it took to unravel my integrity. So you can probably understand why I don’t like talking about it. Or looking at my hands.”

Doran nodded. All that made sense. What he didn’t understand was why she’d shared her story with him. “Why did you tell me? We’re not even friends.”

“Because we’re members of a secret club now,” she told him. “Both of us were used up and betrayed and thrown away by the people we loved.”

“I never loved Ava.”

“But still,” Solara said.

“But still,” he agreed. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”