The celebration stretches through every quad of the ship. Joyous civilians pass around watered beer and Junk Juice as they congratulate one another on surviving.

I can't join them.

Normally, I thirst to dive head-first into the party. But now, after witnessing our narrow escape, I can't curtail the line of thoughts as they seep out.

Who were those flying fighters?

And why did the escape seem easy?

"That was a close call." Hayomo appears at my shoulder.

"It was strange being in the passenger's seat for once."

"But we're free. Now, the rest of this journey is in your hands."

I laugh internally. Sure it is.

"Congratulations, Lorn. You did it."

The praise raises more than just my eyebrow. "Thank you, General."

She pats me in the shoulder one more time before disappearing into the crowd.

I have no appetite for celebration right now. I want to high-tail it to my cabin to be alone with my memory of the attack. I want to remember the formations of the jets and why, for some odd reason, it felt like a dance.

Before I push away from the railing, a surly, sober Warren hobbles into Hayomo's empty spot.

I return my attention to the crowd. "Excellent. You survived."

We lean over the banister and watch the madness from above. Our hands are empty. Out of habit, I wish I had a beer to hand him.

"I heard," he grumbles.

"Heard what?"

"I heard about your predicament." He gestures casually at my abdomen.

I freeze. "Excuse me?"

"I was in the hospital ward that evnen' you came in. I heard what that psychopath said. You're knocked up."

I'm desperate to deny it, but the words won't come out.

"And it belongs to that scrap of shit, Kamalani."

I flinch. "Why didn't you tell him? You'd never have to see my face again if you did."

"Because he has more important things to be concerned about, you selfish bitch. He doesn't need to start this mission with a broken heart."

I straighten, pulling on the ends of my ATACs. "I could just let you die somewhere between here and NOHA."

"You could. But you won't."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Doctor Bertrand Knuckles may have invented the PAHLM, but he's not the only engineer who signed his soul to the devil when he agreed to work for the God-damned URE."

He wipes a fingerprint from the dark screen in his hand with his sleeve. "If my PAHLM registers undue stress followed by no heartbeat, it sends out a message to all ten ARC communicators."

"That's impossible. Inter-ship communication is imposs—"

"Cholesterol, age, and liver disease have yet to affect my brain."

My arms cross while he glosses over the people below. "So what now?"

"I don't give a fuck what you do. Stay out of my way." He rises, sneers one last time at the crowd, and disappears.

My gut plummets.

I can't. I can't suffer through this, too. I can't break Dean's heart. I can't hand Warren any ammunition to ruin what I could have when this is over.

If Dean was to find out I'd been pregnant, that it'd taken a single accident with Kai, he'd be crushed. He'd realize I was a liar and I lied every time I promised him the world.

I can't do that. I can't let this out.

Flicking on my keypad, I type out a desperate message.

GET IT OUT

By the time Knuckles' response arrives, I'm barely breathing.

[Incoming Message: MEDICK]

U SURE? JUST SURVIVED DEADLY EVACUATION

I run to him.

No. I can't let this secret escape. I can't let it be the proof Warren needs to prove he was right all along.

When I arrive, Knuckles is digging around through drawers. "You know, this procedure is not something you can reverse if you change your mind next week."

I lie on the table in the middle of the room, my hands at my side. I don't want to think about it anymore because overthinking is what binds to my problems.

Or is it not thinking? Is it that I don't think enough about what's happening or what the repercussions are?

Whatever. Get it out.

Knuckles leans over the titanium table, peering through his silver-framed lenses. "Are you sure about this?"

The tears gather behind my eyes. "What other choice do I have?"

He frowns but collects his instruments. I wait under the hideous lab lights for him to return.

He looms above, a large needle in his hands. He frowns before stabbing it into my arm. Seconds later, numbness sweeps over my limbs.

His face recedes into blackness so unfathomable, I shrink from it. I've never feared the dark before. I command my legs to back away from the encroaching night, but they're immobile.