Page 1 of The Last Hope

ONE

Court

“You’ve escaped one prison before, so you’ll be escaping another in no time.” Mykal spoke those optimistic words thirty-one days ago, but I didn’t have the heart to remind him that it took me five years to flee Vorkter Prison.

Now that we’re trapped aboard an enemy starcraft and only fed scraps every three days, we don’t have five years to spare.

Our bodies heave in miserable hunger and pain, and I’m in far worse shape.

With time running out, I refuse to lie on the only cot, our only comfort, and I sit on the hard floor.

Slumping against the firm wall, my spine aches, and a sharppangin my hip radiates like hot agony throughout my rigid bones. I breathe shallow breaths between dry lips, and my shaking hand constantly hovers near my hip. As though I can fix what’s wrong, but the only remedy is outside this brig. Medicine, antiseptic,water.

I have none.

We’re all together, but there is nothing here besides a single cot. There are no bars to peer out of, like at my last cell. This is just a tiny, bare, enclosed room inside a starcraft. Clean with polished floors, sterile walls, and a spotless padlocked door, all bathed in soft pink hues from an overhead rouge light.

Mykal hunches as he stands, the ceilings too low, and since I’m much taller, I spend most of my time sitting or crouching.

Franny squats next to a hatch on the cumbersome door. Nowindows, the hatch has been our sole view outside the brig, but it only opens when they feed us.

She presses her cheek against the chilly pink metal. Listening.

With our linked emotions and senses, I try to concentrate on Franny. Just for a reprieve from my own torment. I wouldn’t be able to hear what she hears or see what she sees; we still only share touch and taste and smell. I can barely feel the bite of the cold door against my jaw and ear.

Her senses,hissenses—they both sweep past me as another pang of misery scratches at my flesh.

I look down.

Crude, gnarled stitches weave jaggedly along my lower abdomen. My golden-brown skin is sickly green and inflamed. I resist the urge to itch.

Franny scratches her own hip—she feels my pain.

I shut my eyes for a long moment. Hating that they bothfeelthe deep cuts from a man I loathe. From Bastell: the man I shared a Vorkter Prison cell with, the one who relentlessly hunted me until he attacked me at Yamafort’s museum.

We may’ve left Bastell behind on our home planet, we may’ve stolen theSagastarcraft and reached space, but he left real wounds that can’t disappear easily—focus.

I open my eyes and try to focus on our plans of escape. Though we’ve failed each and every day. I try to think of anything to forget that last encounter in the museum.

We’re out of Bastell’s reach.

I try to breathe stronger, and then I wince and shift, a stabbing pain shooting up my side.Gods be damned.

Mykal swings his head back, his hard-hearted blue eyes meeting my grim grays. If he could beat down the door with his fists alone, I’m certain he would.

Because he’s already tried. Until the skin on his knuckles busted and bled, and sores formed.

“What are you moving for, Court?” Mykal asks. “Rest yourself. You’ve hardly slept one blink of an eye.”

“It’s not so easy when we need to leave,” I say in a single breath. I sink my head back to the wall, our eyes not detaching.

Mykal.

I asked him to fly away with me, and I’ve led him to a prison. No apology I speak can erase the guilt. I just need to free Mykal and Franny from this place.

I have to.

“There’s no time,” I say with another wince.