Page 35 of Rupture

“Jesus.”

“She was lauded for it. Conferences, speaking engagements, job offers.” She gave a small snort of disbelief. “I tried to contact her, to ask her what the hell was going on, but she cut me off. Refused to answer my emails. Changed her phone number. I even went to her apartment. She wouldn’t answer the goddamn door.” She shook her head.

“I was ready to try and understand. It wasn’t long after our parents died in a car accident. People do crazy things when they’re grieving, right? I was a mess, barely holding it together. Thea was grieving too, but she saw an opportunity and took it.”

He sucked air between his teeth.No wonder she hadn’t wanted to mention the fucking sister.“Rose?—”

“It’s ancient history now.” But the tension around her eyes told him differently. She halted, frowned. “Is this the access to the shuttle?”

His gaze followed hers to a double-wide door and access panel. Their lifeline to the surface—or what was left of it.

The entrance panel was a fused, blackened mess. Someone had taken a blowtorch to it, leaving the metal scorched and warped. Finn ran a finger through the residue.Soot.

“Blowtorch for sure.” He wiggled a finger in a gash, whistled low. “Hatchet too maybe.” He’d expected system failures, environmental damage. But this was something else. This was sabotage.

Rose traced the warped metal, her fingers meeting his. The contact jolted through him like a live wire.Damn it.Each time he thought he had his response to her under control, she’d do something simple like this and wreck his composure all over again. Somehow, she’d slipped past every defense he’d built since his release from the brig.

“This looks purposeful.” She studied the mess of metal.

“Yeah. My thoughts exactly.” He palmed the door lock, grateful for something else to think about than the softness of her skin. The locking mechanism remained stubbornly inert, neither glowing red nor green. He studied the ceiling as if it would provide answers to all his questions. “Why would they sabotage access to the surface?”

“I don’t know.” She hugged her arms, shivering.

“Let’s hope they stopped at trashing the access and left the shuttle operational.”

“Finn, what do you think really happened down here?” Her voice was hushed.

“Maybe—”

“Finn.” Ethan’s voice cut in. “Location check.”

“Approaching med bay. We’ve found the shuttle access point.”

“Status report?”

“Complete sabotage. Hatchet damage and then torched. Panel’s fused shut.”

“Shit.”Succinct and so appropriate.

“Yeah.” He exhaled. “We’ll need a breach kit to access the shuttle. Can’t assess its condition until we’re through.”

“Copy that. Rose still on comms?”

“Here, Ethan.” She nodded automatically, making Finn’s mouth quirk despite everything.

“Med bay.” Ethan’s tone was clipped. “Now.Duke’s waiting.”

20

Cool air infusedwith antiseptic raised goosebumps on Rose’s arms.

She counted eight bed bays separated by mint-green screens that offered an illusion of privacy. A scrap of memory fluttered through her mind—sitting at her dad’s bedside, his hand loose in hers, the doctors discussing his chances of survival on the other side of a thin cotton screen as if she could not hear them.

Duke’s murmur drifted out, the words indistinct but his tone soothing.

The fabric screen around the nearest bed twitched, and Duke emerged. The white medical apron tied over his black t-shirt and cargo pants created an interesting visual, as if someone had tried to graft ‘healer’ onto ‘warrior’.

His reassuring smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Rose. Your sister’s the only one who’s awake. I think you might have better luck getting through to her than I have.”

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