The Lonely Orphan (The Lost Planet 5)

And that’s the last thing I should want.

“How are you feeling this solar?”

He doesn’t seem to notice anything is wrong and I join him at the door of the decontamination room to look out the window. Focusing on the trip back to the prison is much safer than what I was considering before.

“I’m fine enough to go back. You don’t have to baby me.”

“I’m not babying you, I’m protecting you. It’s what Breccan would do.”

The for Aria isn’t voiced, but it doesn’t need to be. He may not be her…mate, or whatever, but he may as well be. He came here to find me…for her. He’s trekking all over this mountain…for her. He saved me…for her.

“Let’s just get back as fast as we can.”

He doesn’t argue.

No doubt he wants to radio Aria as soon as possible.

We both suit up in silence and I use the quiet to get my disordered thoughts in line. It’s not Hadrian’s fault that I’m so conflicted. He’s been nothing but helpful and cooperative for the most part.

“The Big Bird should have moved on by now, and as long as we travel quickly, we’ll get out of the range of the armworms.”

I double-check my helmet. “What makes you think he’s left? What if he’s out there waiting for us?”

“Do you really want to be around to find out?”

Good point. I gesture for him to lead the way.

Suddenly, the strange beasts on this planet don’t seem as much of an obstacle as the towering alien in front of me.

* * *

I know something is wrong when the flashing red lights atop the guard towers catch my eye. I’d been so lost in thought, having successfully navigated our way down the mountain, that it takes a long second of staring for me to place the visual with meaning. By that time, Hadrian is already fifty feet in front of me, moving so fast he looks like a shadow racing to the closest entrance of the prison.

My heart drops to the bottom of my stomach.

Oh, God, please let everyone be okay.

Did the guards somehow escape and regain control? Has Theron double-crossed us somehow? Is Hadrian part of the trick? Could it all be a trap?

Scenarios—each worse than the last—whip through my mind until everything is a blur, my head pounding with the effort and the lingering effects from the fall. My thighs burn with each step. By the time I reach the decontamination bay, my whole body is shaking.

There is no sound coming from the other side of the decontamination bay door. It’s utterly still. I key in the code Willow programmed to allow me access and the door slides open. We go through the decontamination process as quickly as possible. The door to the prison opens into a dim hallway. A flashing red light bathes us in its ominous glow.

“Stay behind me,” Hadrian orders, the knife in his hand glinting in the red light. He pauses long enough to take off most of the suit and I do the same.

Clad only in my prison uniform, I take out my own knife and grip it with my palm slick with sweat. As Hadrian advances into the hall, my ears strain to collect sound, but there’s nothing but my harsh breathing and the scuffling noise of our footsteps echoing off the walls. There’s no sign of any of the others, which worries me more than anything. They would have seen us enter the prison walls from the sensors that monitor the perimeter. Someone should have been here to greet us.

When Hadrian starts to take the wrong passage to the command room, I tug on his suit and he follows my direction wordlessly. I can feel the tension not unlike my own emanating from him in waves. Each step takes the effort of a thousand for fear of what we might find once we reach our destination.

There is nothing but a subtle hum from the computers in the command room and a slight glow from their screens. Hadrian surges ahead and signals for me to wait for him. It takes all my control to keep from pushing him aside and barging in. He pushes through the door and my body locks up as I wait…and wait…and wait. Then he comes to me and motions for me to come inside.

I hold my breath until I see Willow sitting at the computers. I study her face and although she doesn’t look injured, something still isn’t right. Like someone scrambled her features and put them back together wrong. “What happened?” I ask briskly. “Are you okay?”

Even though I can tell she’s not.

She nods, but says, “It’s one of the girls from C-Block. She’s sick. Very sick.”

A tightness in my chest eases, but Hadrian grows more tense beside me. We’ve dealt with illness in the prison before. The kind that sweeps through the prison like a plague at regular intervals. Colds, stomach flus. It’s not ideal, but nothing Zoe can’t handle. She’s a trooper in the center of chaos, the calm at the eye of a storm.