Setting Fire to the Stars (a MM Sci-Fi Romance)

Chapter 38: Darker

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Lauren
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Cool air blasted back the scalding heat as Peter hauled me by the waist into the cockpit. Coughing out the smoke clinging to my insides, a brisk penny tang rested on my tongue as I sucking in clean air. The sudden drop in temperature sheeted bumps across my overheated skin, my ears ringing with a constant buzz of angry whispers. Fat tears tumbled down my sooty cheeks, tickling the edges of my jaw.

The sounds of labored coughs and choked gasps beat off the glowing interior. The tear-shaped ramp of the ship sealed shut on its own with a hydraulic hiss, as though the vessel recognized the threat of danger beyond the safety of its walls.

As soon as the heat of the flames vanished, my knees gave out from under me. Breathing became a challenge, coming in short, violent pulls of air that burned all the way down.

Peter's solid chest drove into my back as we slid to the cool ebony floor. His warmth melded against my sweat-soaked spine. Adrenaline fizzled under my skin like a bag of pop rocks, the weight of what just happened crushing me.

"You're okay," he assured, pulling me tighter against him. "It's okay. I've got you."

"We left them," I choked out, years of pent up tears flooding with renewed vigor, the image of my father and Josiah searing into my brain like a hot brand. "We just left them."

Peter smoothed back the strands soaked with soot and perspiration. I wasn't aware of when he'd started rocking back and forth like he was trying to calm a giant toddler. "We'll find them. I swear, Lauren, we will. But right, we need to go."

Even as he spoke promises in my ear, I couldn't hold back my coughing sobs.

Shoes skidded against the cockpit's pristine flooring, a circle of tight bodies closing in.

Reese's baritone echoed off the walls, words harsh and croaky from inhaling the fumes outside. "Where is Josiah?"

"And Gael. They weren't behind you?" Whitt sputtered under hoarse gasps the same moment Wyatt snarled. "You lost them?"

"There was no way through," Peter coughed, tightening his hold as if he could feel the panic coiling beneath my skin. "That blockade was red-hot and too heavy to move. We couldn't get to them, we tried—"

"Then we go back," Wyatt stated.

"We can't," Reva spoke up, barring his path. Flynn tried to reel her in, but she shrugged the man off. "You heard that howl, that. . . thing. There's something out there. It's too dangerous—"

"You are not seriously considering leaving him behind, are you? If it weren't for him, you and Flynn wouldn't even be alive right now. He was the one who saved you some those things that first night," he retorted, angrily pushing past her. "I'm going back for him."

Whitt laid a hand on his twin's shoulder, stepping to his side, brows knitted together. "I get it, Wy, I really do, but unless you're suddenly indestructible and fire-proof, there's nothing you can do."

Shrugging him off, Wyatt spun, sticking a finger in Whitt's face. "You don't know that!"

Their voice thinned as a high-pitched tone rang in my ears. My surroundings blurred, everything moving in slow motion as my gaze fixed on one single point. The fuzzy face of my own reflection stared back at me, the mirror image blinking slowly. A stranger in the dark. In the days of imprisonment, I had lost weight, a ghost of his former self; ashen, hollow, barely recognizable. Smears of dirt and blood blotted my concrete-grey sweatsuit, off-white sneakers ruddy and smudged. Dark circles hollowed under unfocused eyes, my freckles faded into my pale skin.