A heavy feeling settled in her stomach, and Marina stood, ready to dash out of the room and try to make up the time she’d lost. Then, something made her look back in that cabinet. She pulled the light from her pocket and shone it in there, back into the depths.

Something glinted dark.

Marina couldn’t grab it fast enough; she pulled that heavy metal comfort from the very rear of the cupboard and looked down at it. Now she had a chance.

Not that she knew how to use it; but that had never stopped her before.

* * *

The first problem she encountered was getting through the security screen that had stopped them before.

Marina paused at the doorway and considered. There appeared no way to get the weapon through without going through the sensitive screen. Was there a way to deactivate it?

She could always shoot the damn thing.

What more did she have to lose? If she didn’t move quickly, and boldly, she was going to lose Gabe anyway.

Marina looked over the gun gingerly. Was there a safety? Would she recognize it if she saw it? Did she have to cock it?

What the hell.

Taking a deep breath, she pointed it at the side of the security screen, aimed, and pulled tentatively on the trigger.

The trigger resisted at first, and she almost stopped; but then suddenly, it snapped back and the shot kicked the gun in her hands.

The screen sizzled, blackened, and Marina, her heart in her throat, ran through. If someone had heard the noise, they’d be there in record time.

More worried about haste than secrecy, she hurried back through the corridors with more speed and less care than she had the first time.

It didn’t take more than twenty minutes to get back to where she and Dad had been staying; now that she knew how to navigate the shiny white corridors and open the silent doors. It occurred to her at that point to wonder why he didn’t want to leave his room. After all, he seemed to be in the same kind of prison that she had been.

But she wasn’t going to take the time now. He’d made his choice; she’d make hers.

Hurrying past his doorway, she continued along the hall and was just approaching hers when she heard the sound of voices. Male voices.

She had to hide.

Without conscious thought, she turned and jammed on the wristband and the door of the suite she’d been imprisoned in opened.

Dashing in, she closed the door none too soon, for just as she turned, the door began to open again.

The gun was in her hands. She looked down at it; instantly knew it wasn’t the time to use it. She threw herself on to the sofa-bed and jammed it under a cushion just as the door was wide enough for her visitor to step in.

It was Varden.

“What do you want?” she snapped, hoping to hide her too-fast, too-deep breaths.

“I just came to be certain that you were still comfortable. And to let you know,” he added, stepping closer, his green eyes scoring her as if trying to read what was going on in her mind, “that your friend is about to meet his end. So if you pray, you might send a few thoughts to your deity in his honor. Because nothing can save him now.”

Marina wanted that gun in her hand. At that moment, she would have been capable of blowing the skin off his face, annihilating him for his arrogance and slyness. Instead, oh, it was difficult; but she resisted. She didn’t move; she forced the fingers that itched to grab that heavy lethal piece of metal to stay still, calm; to make not the slightest twitch.

And willed the bastard to leave so she could get out of there.

“Will you cry for him?” Varden asked, his face closer to hers. She felt overwhelmed by him; his person that emanated a power she hadn’t felt even from Roman … a strength, a tension, and attraction.

That realization almost made her reach for the gun.

Thankfully, he pulled back, looking down at her with an odd expression on his face.

She looked up at him, mustering every iota of hatred she could. “Get out of here.” She had to work to get the words from between her teeth.

He turned abruptly and turned toward the door; it opened smoothly, without him having to wait for it and interrupt his stride. And then he was gone.

Marina shook.

She dragged in five—count’em, five—deep breaths, each one slower and longer than the last. The tingling in her stomach raced to the tips of her fingers; she knew she was losing time. But she had to get her emotions under control before charging out of there.

She knew where she had to go, and how to get there. But getting through the security would not be an easy feat.

And she wanted to make sure Varden was out of sight.

He was. The halls were empty again, and Marina wondered just how many Skaladeskas there were. Either there weren’t more than twenty or thirty; which she found hard to imagine, based on the expansiveness of their compound; or she just happened to be in an area that was available to limited personnel.

Either way, she considered it a blessing that she hadn’t been accosted yet by any errant Skaladeskas.

Hurrying along the corridor, she found herself in a glassed-in walkway that actually appeared to let the natural light in. The first time she’d experienced natural illumination since she and Gabe had first arrived. This must be the connector between the Segment and the rest of the compound; her father had mentioned it but gave it no further description. It was a tunnel, glassed in; and pale, golden-blue light filtered in from somewhere. She couldn’t see anything outside; to be sure, it could have been nothing.

At last she reached the door to the Segment. This was where her real problem began.

In order to get through, the little tongue-tab she’d seen the guards use had to be fed into a slot and “read.”

Marina considered as the seconds ticked away. She could wait and hope they would bring Gabe through here; and she could apprehend the group then, with the help of the gun.

But if they didn’t bring him through … if they were going to execute him back in the private family area … .she couldn’t take that chance.

She opened the panel next to the door where the little tabs were and thumbed one out. She hesitated. It was possible it would work for her … after all, she did have some of the Aleksandrov DNA. But if it didn’t, what would happen? Would an alarm sound? Would the trespass attempt be somehow reported? Would she waste precious time?

She wouldn’t take that chance. Holding the tab firmly between her thumb and forefinger, she turned and ran back down the hall. There was one person who certainly had the right code.

When she burst into her father’s room, he was sitting on the edge of the sofa, where she’d left him. He looked up as she ran over to him, grabbed his arm.

“You’re coming with me. I can’t get into the Segment without your help.”

He pulled away from her with surprising force. “I’m not leaving this room, Marina. I do not have the will or the energy to interfere with anything ever again. I’ve paid my dues for my mistakes, and continue to pay.”

Half-expecting that reaction, Marina jabbed the tongue-tab in his face. “Then spit on this, and give me your DNA one fucking last time.”

He hesitated and she pulled out the gun. “Now, or I’ll get it myself.” Her hands were shaking and her stomach rolling, and she prayed he would cooperate. Because she knew she wouldn’t pull the trigger. Dammit.

He did. He gathered the spittle in his mouth and let it drop onto the tab. Fighting back nausea, Marina turned and bulleted from the room, through the door she’d boldly left open, and clutched the dripping tab in her hand.

She ran back down the corridors, and was just coming around the corner when she heard it.

Voices. Lots of them. Coming from the Segment doorway.

Slamming herself against the wall, trying to fit inside a narrow indentation at an intersection of two halls, she waited. The gun, held pointing upward, her bent arm flush against the wall; the other hand gripping the tab.

This was it. She had to act.

Either they had Gabe or they were going to get him.

Or the deed was already done.

Please, no.

Deep breath. The voices and people coming closer. The tab in her hand, her key to entry; the gun growing heavy in her raised arm.

As they came closer, she made her decision, tucking the tab safely into her pocket. At just the right moment, she stepped out into the hallway, grabbing the first and closest person in the group.

Roman.

“Don’t move. Not a muscle.” Marina felt a wave of satisfaction as she jammed the barrel of Gabe’s gun into Roman’s neck.

She felt him swallow, and the gun actually shifted with the wave of his terror.

The others froze, and she took that moment to let her fired gaze blast over them.

Gabe!

He was there, hanging, quite literally hanging, from the arms of two men who propped him. As Marina stared, he managed to raise his head and look up.

His mouth moved; it could have been “fucking incredible” or “get the hell out of here” … she wasn’t sure which. Either way, it didn’t matter: he was alive, and at least somewhat coherent.

“Release him.” She didn’t need to specify whom; they knew. Gabe stumbled toward her, holding onto the wall, and she saw the bruises on his face; cuts and other wounds she didn’t care to define.

Varden and Nora were among the small group, Lev was not. There were three others, including the guards who’d carried Gabe. They all gaped at her, none daring to move as Roman trembled next to her.

The man was actually trembling. It amazed her.

By this time, Gabe had reached her side and she gave him a better once-over. He wrapped a weak arm around her waist, and tightened it briefly in the form of a hug of gratitude. She was focused on Roman, and the rest of the group.

“Everyone raise your arms and remove your wristbands,” she said sharply when she saw Varden shift near the back. She should have commanded that immediately, but she was new at holding people at gun-point and hadn’t thought of it in her relief at seeing Gabe in one piece. So to speak. “Toss them up here,” she gestured to the floor.

“Can you walk at all?” she asked out of the corner of her mouth. He nodded against her, weakly, but his blue eyes showed determination.