Page 6 of Keeping Sarah

“If I left before Deacon woke up, she’d hate me. You know that’s true!”

Recognition dimmed her anger. She closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry, Jac, I shouldn’t have assumed the worst.”

“We’re all tense, Omen. It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine, but guilt wasn’t going to help anyone in this situation. “Just…if you get to her before I can, tell her she’s a mad woman and I love her for it.”

Omen smirked. “Will do.”

She and the three conduits left.

Since I was already in the cottage, I checked on Camp Deo, my android. She doted on Valor and Silence’s twins, cooing and brushing their hair. Luckily, they’d remained in the cottage while the battle had raged just outside.

Quietly, I asked, “They’re okay?”

“They’re perfect,” Camp assured me. “Have you any word on Lanai Dea?”

I shook my head. Someone had sabotaged Deacon’s android before the fight began so she wouldn’t be able to help in the battle. We weren’t sure if she could be repaired.

Camp let out a beep that I had never heard from her before. It sounded sad, like she thought the worst. “I will say a prayer for her, too.”

“You pray, Camp?” I asked, surprised to learn that about my android.

She smiled, still haunted. “The gods may not hear the prayers of androids, Jacaranda, but that does not mean we do not pray.”

I smiled at her, glad she was there to help with the twins. As much as she adored them, I wondered whether I should release her to Valor’s employment. She was a better nanny than a ship’s android.

With that thought in mind, I asked, “Do you think—"

An ethereal shriek broke the moment.

I ran out of the cottage and toward the sound. Everyone outside stared atAllegiant—the source of the awful shriek was inside. The entry to the ship was crowded—everyone wanted to know what had happened. I plowed through them, trying to get to my companion. I went back to the infirmary to check on Deacon. But he was still unconscious.

“It’s Mock,” Valor said.

I closed my eyes, grateful it wasn’t Deacon, but still shattered by the horror of Mock’s excruciating scream of pain. I went around the curtain that divided the infirmary to see if I could lend a hand. To my relief, Mock was unconscious again. Ode stood behind his head, jet injector in hand. A blood-soaked sheet laid on Mock’s lower half. Wave stood by what was left of his feet.

They looked at me and simply shook their heads. I swallowed hard and asked, “He’s—"

“Alive,” Ode said. “But just barely.”

“Does he need more blood?” I asked.

“No, Maverick gave him plenty.”

“Can I do anything?”

She just shook her head and continued to work.

I sighed and went back to Deacon’s side of the curtain.

He was eight feet tall, well-muscled. A perfect specimen of Ladrian manhood. A face sculpted by the gods, with a thick strong jaw and a strangely perfect nose for someone who had been a soldier. Now his forehead was marred by a large black burn from the hand cannon fire that had given him his concussion. His tan skin had a pink sheen—something he had always hated about himself, but I loved.

My own taupe skin glinted blue in the light. Common blue, matching my hair. Normal, average. Not like Deacon Ladrang. My companion and one of the loves of my life. I missed the flash of his hazel eyes when he laughed, the deep boom of his baritone voice. Every detail of him…

“He will wake,” Wave said, startling me as she placed a hand on my shoulder. “Give him time.”

I nodded, and part of me was in awe of her. The moment Wave had found out Deacon was truly injured, she had lost her shit. It was strange—Wave’s usual cool, detached demeanor was something I had counted on, but not this time. Her blue-sheened jet black skin seemed flat beneath the bright infirmary lights. Her plain face haggard with worry.

I cleared my throat and asked, “And Mock?”

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