We take care to keep close together. “How far are we away from the Command Center?” I ask, refusing to think of Galen or Henry being injured.
“It’s just up ahead. Keep your zonnoblasters ready. Just in case we run into another one of the humans.”
After that, Aria leads us down a long hall with hand gestures to keep as quiet as possible. Huge sections are scorched, some still engulfed in flames. Whatever Oz’s weapon had done had caused parts of the Facility to cave in on themselves. There are sections with doors busted in, likely from raids from the soldiers trying to locate the morts and the others. We come to a blocked hallway with the remains of one of the Earth II ships inside still smoking. With each new discovery, the women grow more concerned. Finally, we reach a door labeled Command Center and by then they look as worried as I feel.
“This is it.” Aria lifts her gun and takes a bolstering breath. “Stay behind me. If there’s one of them in there, don’t hesitate to shoot. Our lives could depend on it.”
I swear I hear Henry’s muffled crying somewhere, but I think it’s my mind playing tricks on me. The others are breathing heavily into the comms, making it hard to make out any noise beyond where we’re standing. I’m praying it’s all in my imagination.
Aria hits a button and the door squeals open. Molly’s audible inhalation shrieks in my earpiece and Lyric curses. Unlike the rest of the facility, the Command Center is lit up a bright orange. The giant windows have been smashed open. Sitting in front of them are two figures. Breccan and Hadrian. Galen stands near them. All of their heads turn toward us, varying expressions of shock on their faces at seeing us.
Aria sobs and hurries to Breccan. He leaps up and takes her in his arms. The bones in his back crack with his triumphant roar, both echoing through the room. My own feet carry me to Galen’s side and I throw myself into his arms.
Lyric takes Breccan’s abandoned chair beside Hadrian and assesses his injuries. “Why do you smell like—”
“Rogshite?” Hadrian grunts. “Ask Galen.”
Speaking of Galen…
“What are you doing here, zelfyre?” Galen’s grip is tight around me and being in his arms is as reassuring as it can be under the circumstances. “It’s not safe.”
“Henry’s missing,” I blurt out, fighting tears. “He must have followed you. Did you see him?”
His features fall and his brows knit together. “I don’t understand. He was with you.”
I shake my head and a few rogue tears sneak out. “He must have followed you, Galen. He’s gone.”
Gone.
I hate that word.
Blood rushes from my head, dizzying me.
I was just sure I’d find Henry when I’d found Galen.
But he’s not here. He’s still…gone.
That’s when I hear him. The sound of his screams followed by deep voices. They echo through the building, sounding too far away. Henry is calling for Galen. Galen flinches visibly at his name.
“I’m going to find him,” Galen says, his voice urgent.
Breccan shakes his head. “You can’t go alone. What if there are more of them?”
“You’re not going to stop me.”
“I’m going with you,” I bark. Before Galen can interject, I add, “He’s my son. I have to go.”
His eyes burn into me, no curtain of lies. Nothing but the truth.
“He’s mine, too,” Galen says, his words settling in my heart.
I’ve never heard anything sweeter come from a man’s lips, and this time, I know it’s real. I can feel it in my bones. In my soul.
“We don’t have time for this,” Aria cuts in. “We have to find out where they’re at—where they’re going. Is UVIE working?”
Breccan shakes his head. “None of the systems are going to be online until Oz gets the power rebooted. And even then, it’ll take a while for her to restart. They could be anywhere.”
“Me and Lyric will stay and comm with Oz to get UVIE back up. You get the mortling,” says a pained Hadrian. “Hurry.”
I don’t wait for anyone else to object. I spin on my heel and dart through the passageways, following Galen’s bulk through the shadows.
“They had to have taken him somewhere they feel safe.” Aria is saying over the comms in our masks.
“Did anyone get a good look at where they were stationed?”
“We did,” I blurt. “There were ships in the mountain tunnels. Could they be there?”
“It would offer good cover,” Breccan muses. “The range would give them the perfect vantage point over the Facility.”
While they’re discussing the various entrances to the mountain range, we reach the exit. There we’re met by another mort. I don’t even recognize them through my panic.
“The little mortling. They’ve taken him to the Tower.”
He’s covered from head to toe in dark red blood as though he’s taken a bath in it.