Page 133 of The Last Hope

“Tomorrow, maybe I can,” she says determinedly and then pushes her way to the door. I trail behind her, trying to let her words sink in. There’s a good chance that if we tried to run or even fight, the Fast-Tracker would have pointed thenail gun at our heads. He wouldn’t think it’d kill us. But it could.

I hold on to that.

The hostel bursts with excitement, people chattering and drinking, and we weave between the young bodies to find our familiar place. I spot Padgett and Kinden first, lounging on the mattress and chatting quietly. Then I see Mykal. He shoves his way through the crowds, panicked blue eyes flitting to me. Worry bursts in my chest.Hisworry.

I know he felt us. I’m not sure how long, or how strong. But by the ragged breathing and the carelessness with which he pushes a little girl away from his path, I’d say he felt a lot.

Immediately when he’s at our side, his hands fly to my cheeks. Cupping them as tenderly as he can. It’s the first time he’s really touched me in weeks. And for a strong moment, his emotions double me over. “What happened? Who hurt you?” His voice is coarse with concern.

“It’s nothing,” I say, shaking him off. It hurts to do.

His hands fall to his sides, and pain wrenches between us. For some reason, it aches more than the dull throb in my palm. I suck in a tight breath, wanting nothing more than to fold into his arms.

Mykal grinds down on his teeth, but with his eyes, he searches for my hands. He can feel where the pain is coming from.He knows.I hold my hands behind my back, so he can’t see.

Mykal shoots me a look likeyou’re being a real crank.Then, quickly, he turns to Franny and snatches her wrist, lifting it up to inspect the crimson-stained cloth. He slowly removes it and reveals a deep, bloodied hole in her skin.

“Funny story,” Franny starts.

Mykal glowers at the wordfunny,and Stork sidles near us to listen. He ties his blond hair back with a ripped string from his shirt.

I try to direct the conversation somewhere else, so I askStork, “How did you and the others do with your orphanages?” Though I already know the answer. They’d all be in much better spirits if they found the baby.

Stork shakes his head. “No luck.” Then his gaze lowers to Franny’s hand and his eyes flash with a pained wince. “What happened?”

Franny continues, “The directions to Lulencrest were a ruse. The tunnels had FTs that wanted us to pay a toll.” She pauses and muses, “I guess a nail through the hand was better than a toe.”

“You’ve got to be shit—” Stork stops himself short from saying a human phrase and then he smiles bitterly. “Fyke,” he says to cover himself.

I don’t think anyone heard.

It’s too loud in here.

Mykal swings his head from left to right like he’s looking for something, and then he storms away without another word. We all frown.

“That’s not like him,” I say. He barely comforted me. And I know we’re uncoupled, trying to be apart, but he didn’t even argue to see my wound.

I watch as he pushes aside a hanging scarf and bends down near Zimmer. They chat for a quick second, and then Zimmer points to a short, dusty-brown-haired boy across the room.

“No.” I breathe. Mykal’s intentions start clicking. I’m too slow, and Mykal is too determined. I watch him cross the room with angry, furious strides.

He yells loudly at the boy, who can’t be older than eighteen. “Heya!” Mykal screams. “Eggen Orcastle?”

The boy appraises him with a laugh. “Maybe. Who’s asking?”

It’s so quick.

“Me,” Mykal growls and shoves the boy into the wall. I don’t even see Mykal take out his knife before it’s halfway in the boy’s palm, stuck into the plaster behind him.

The wail is sickening.

People shout. Eggen’s friends start to push at Mykal. Bottles break. The last thing I see is Mykal wrenching the knife out of the wall. Out of the boy’s palm. When I lose sight of him, I scream, “MYKAL!”

“We have to go.” Zimmer has come to our sides. “Now.”

Not until—

Mykal emerges from the crowd, unscathed. He takes my good hand, icy blue eyes already set on the exit.