“How did you know?”
“We have to go!” I yell instead. “Drive!” I urge as we both lie across the backseat of the vehicle where I’ve pulled us down.
Lifting my head up, I peek through the window just in time to see Kyon alight from the interior of the E-One. Turning to Cyphon, I say in a desperate voice, “If you get out, they’ll kill you and take me! You don’t have any options but to drive.”
Cyphon’s jaw clenches as he scans my face. I nod once, letting him know he has only one choice now. He doesn’t listen to me, though. He yanks his arm from my hands, opening the door to the hovercar. He throws himself out of the vehicle, lifting his riflelike weapon and firing at the Alameeda scattered around the Beezway. In seconds, he’s cut down, falling into the roadway, turning it crimson with his blood.
I sit frozen in the backseat of the vehicle, unable to move. Shouts and the deafening report of automatic weapon fire coming from the Alameeda soldiers echo from outside the hovercar. My head doesn’t duck. I don’t cringe in fear. I know they’re not shooting at me; they’re massacring everyone in the tunnel.
There’s a pause in the noise. I turn my head and glance out the door. Kyon is still by the E-One, his handsome blue eyes are on me, watching my reaction to what’s happening. He looks proud of me—proud of the fact that I’m not screaming, or covering my ears, or crying for them to stop. I’m not doing any of those things because I know that they won’t help. No one here will help. No one here will stop him. He’s probably also proud that I don’t look at all surprised by what’s happening—I knew it would happen—I saw it happen. He knows I saw it.
Kyon takes a step in my direction, but then he stiffens. The door to my right opens and I startle, expecting to see a blond-haired goon looming over me. Instead, the exquisite face that greets my eyes melts my icy heart in an instant. I feel myself go limp against the seat. “Trey!” His name tumbles from my lips. “How did you find me?”
Trey ducks into the backseat; his long arm reaches past me to close the door, blocking Kyon from me. I inhale Trey’s sultry scent and it’s like a drug running through my veins, creating a poignant ache inside me. The door locks as Trey takes me in his arms for a bone-crushing hug. I endure it, unable to breathe. His deep voice is hushed as he says, “I’ve been monitoring communications. They’ve been airing footage of the Alameeda shootout in the commissary. It showed you slipping into the dishery chute. I escaped and have been hiding out—trying to find where you were being held since they took you from my cell. When I saw the footage, I figured you had to be around the dishery somewhere, so I started this way, hoping I’d find you.”
Lifting me up, he shoves me over the barrier that divides the hovercar; I fall into the front seat. He climbs over the barrier between us to the front seat next to mine. He doesn’t look at me, concentrating on the vehicle instead, and then he adds, “I overheard the transmission the Cavars issued, reporting that you’d been detained.”
He presses a few buttons. Seat belts twist up and secure both of us to the vehicle. I look around the compartment. There’s no steering wheel on either side; it’s just a dashboard of lights with readouts on the windscreen.
“Engine on—engage manual transmission,” Trey orders. The hovercar immediately hums to life and lifts off the ground. The panel on his side of the vehicle opens up, emitting a joystick controller from the interior of the dashboard. Atop the joystick is a round, floating ball. As Trey grips the joystick, his thumb rubs over the top of the roller ball; the vehicle swings in a ninety-degree turn, facing the heli-vehicle and Kyon. “Secure compartment,” he orders the cabin of the vehicle. All the open doors slide closed and lock.
Kyon has gathered his Alameeda soldiers to him. He holds up his hand, signaling to the pilot behind him to hold his position. Slowly, Kyon raises his weapon at arm’s length, aiming it at Trey. He pulls the trigger, firing a round at Trey’s side of the hovercar. Projectiles pelt the hood and the windscreen of the military-grade vehicle, leaving dents, but they fail to penetrate the interior.
I grimace. “Why aren’t they firing on us with the E-One?” I ask as he revs the engine and we stare down the missiles and other scary weapons mounted on the outside of the lethal E-One.
“Kyon doesn’t want to risk killing you. He needs you alive,” Trey replies.
I know he’s right. Trey squeezes the trigger on the front of the joystick; our hovering vehicle charges forward, accelerating so quickly that I’m plastered to the seat back. Kyon scrambles to get out of our way, as do the other soldiers with him, leaving just the E-One in front of us as we race straight ahead. I cringe, holding my breath. We rumble over the road divider. Right before we hit the E-One, it lifts up from the ground, allowing us to pass beneath it.
Trey moves his thumb, spinning us onto the open lanes of the wide tunnel. “Project rear trajectory,” he barks. An area of the windscreen darkens to show a watermark image of the area behind our hovercar—a rearview image. Pressing the accelerator, we move faster than I have ever traveled in any type of vehicle on Ethar. I lose my stomach when he spins up onto the wall as we bank into a turn. Light ahead of us shocks me because it also means we’ve run out of road.
I give a cry of alarm, “No road!” drawing up my legs and bracing one hand against the ceiling and the other against the window, preparing to plunge off the edge.
“It’s a guide—we don’t need a road,” Trey explains while concentrating on driving. I sag in relief for a second when I realize we’re not going to plunge to our deaths. He glances at me. “This is a troupedo; it drives on air, Kitten. The Beezway makes it faster, it propels at the same time, allowing a vehicle to go twice as fast as normal, but it’s not necessary as a road.”
Around us in the sky, fighter aircraft of all types are engaging in fierce dogfights. Brilliant sprays of colorful light erupt as the Rafe Dragon ships spew fire into the air, looking for chinks in the Alameeda’s swarm of attackers. The Alameeda have supersonic aircraft, each with a pointed-shaped fuselage in front of a huge, round turbinelike forced-air engine in the back. These ships are able to outrun the Rafe ships with both speed and agility. The Rafe ships, however, have more precise weaponry. By locking onto targets, they’re able to predict where the Alameeda will be.
“How did you escape?” I ask, before a startled scream rips from me as we’re rammed from behind by the pursuing E-One.
Trey veers to the left, using the agility of the troupedo to counteract the immense speed of the E-One, keeping it off us. His jaw clenches tight as he whips us around the bend of a cylindrical building. When he puts some space between the E-One and us, he gives me a sidelong look. “I have the Comantre Syndic in the cell next to yours to thank for my escape.”
“Giffen?” I ask in a high-pitched voice. I’m holding on to the seat with both hands, and I still feel like I’m about to hit the windscreen in front of me.