1

Tell me about life,

for I already know about death.

Destruction holds a deadly beauty.

Most people overlook it, only noticing the harsh lines, bitter scents, and deformed edges. The lingering damage triggers an innate instinct to keep moving ahead.

Your eyes float to the ground. Your pace quickens.

If you stop, the ensuing devastation could ruin you as well.

But if you take a moment and peer closer into the wreckage, images flicker of what it used to be. Something beautiful, yet pointedly ignored by most.

Because appreciation rarely comes until what you thought would never leave is gone forever.

Khalani Kanes breathed in destruction and all its possibilities. It stretched in front of her, further than the eye could see.

Within the first hour of escaping Apollo, she discarded her grey prison jumpsuit through the broken window of a rusted…

Car?

Yes. That’s what Winnie had called it.

Hundreds and hundreds of corroded vehicles lay scattered across the road like an intricate maze.

The sweltering heat of the desert bounced off the thin, beige top and loose-fitting pants that fluttered around her legs amid the strong wind.

Khalani was thankful for the extra, clean clothing stowed in their backpacks.

Sweat stuck to her back, and a part of her wanted to strip off her clothes to cool down. But Brock warned her that the long sleeves protected her pale skin from the sun’s powerful rays.

For a girl who grew up in darkness, Khalani never believed she would gaze up at the sun, much less walk the surface under its raw power.

Sand whipped against her cheek as she trudged forward, clutching the straps of her black backpack tight around her shoulders.

No greenery was visible on the desolate road. No vegetation or signs of life. All was eerily quiet in the forgotten remnants of civilization.

Khalani’s eyes flickered to a black-and-white rusted sign, barely hanging off a metal pole jutting from the ground.

Arizona, Route 66.

She had no idea what those words meant.

So many things on the surface remained confounding to her. Like the tall beams in the sand with thick metallic wires dangling down. The faded numbered and lettered plates stuck to the back of the vehicles. The long road in the middle of an endless desert.

The strangest part was that nearly all the decrepit cars they passed had their doors wide open, as if the vehicles had been hastily abandoned by their owners.

Khalani often wondered what that fateful day must’ve been like. Witnessing fiery bombs streak across the sky, utterly helpless to stop the impending doom.

If you managed to survive the initial nuclear blasts that devastated the surface—especially the old United States—you most likely would’ve perished from poisoned groundwater or starvation due to mass hoarding of food. But when nuclear reactors were destroyed as well, the explosive meltdowns unleashed radioactive havoc across the world.

By the time people realized the surface was uninhabitable, the few underground cities had reached maximum capacity and shut their doors. She shuddered at the thought of patiently awaiting your death while your family and loved ones disintegrated before your very eyes.

Up until several days ago, Khalani believed the surface remained uninhabitable. She and every other citizen in Apollo were taught the high levels of radioactive fallout promised nothing but a fatal end to any who dared venture on the surface.

But they’d walked across the Death-Zone for a few days now, and Khalani felt no different.

Maybe it was a trick. In a few hours, she could very well turn into a pile of radioactive goo and melt into the concrete.

The visual was entertaining, at the very least.

All Khalani knew was that 250 miles lay between them and the nearest underground city, Hermes.

“How much farther? My feet are killing me,” Serene, the expressive thief who used to live in the prison cell next to Khalani, huffed. Her vibrant blue hair was knotted and dusted with grit, and the pale scar across her face shone brighter in the sunlight. If anything, it only enhanced her unique beauty.

Serene was more than a friend. She was the laughter you tried to contain and the inner voice of confidence when you falter.

She was the closest thing Khalani had to a sister.

At the front, Brock glanced over his shoulder. “That’s the tenth time you’ve asked today.”

“So? It’s just as true now as it was the first time I asked.”

“We keep walking until the sun goes down,” Brock reiterated. “We’re not stopping just because you’re tired and sluggish.”

“You know,” Serene started, “I liked you a lot better when you didn’t speak.”

“I never liked you, period.”

Serene cursed Brock under her breath as he turned decisively and kept moving forward.

The Death-Zoner appeared more at home amid the destruction. Having traveled the surface before, Brock was their only guide, and she prayed he’d be able to lead their vigilante crew to Hermes.

Khalani never believed any of them truly deserved to be imprisoned in Braderhelm. But if they weren’t criminals before, they certainly were now.

Breaking out of prison was one thing.

Murder was different.

But was it truly murder if the person they killed wasn’t human?

She shifted closer to Serene, trying to clear that line of thought before it buried her in an endless void of unanswered questions.

“If you want, I can help carry your pack for a while,” Khalani offered.

“No way.” Serene waved dismissively. “If anything, that’s what the men on this road should be offering.”

Serene’s gaze flickered to Derek, whose rich, dark skin glistened with sweat. Derek was more reserved than the others, a talented scientist from Apollo and the first friend Khalani made in Braderhelm.

“My hands are already full,” Derek replied, tightening his arm around Winnie’s waist.

Winnie was the Keeper of the Ordinances in Braderhelm, an avid lover of history, and practically her second mother.

During their prison escape, Winnie had been shot in the shoulder—a horrific sight she would never forget. They changed the bandage as often as possible, but blood stubbornly seeped through.

Khalani refused to believe that Winnie would be anything less than okay. But she couldn’t shake the eerie feeling when the paleness in Winnie’s cheeks didn’t recede, even under the scorching sun. She tried to offer her extra water, but Winnie gently brushed her away.

“Don’t you worry, Khalani dear,” Winnie insisted the previous night. “It would take much more than a stray bullet to get old Winnie down.”

Winnie was too stubborn for her own good, but Khalani recognized the trait well.

Only the stubborn and deadly survived on the harsh surface.

“And you, tiny nuts?” Serene swiveled her head to her older brother. “What’s your excuse?”

Adan, one of the top engineers in Apollo, wore a coy grin as he turned, his bronze hair falling over his forehead. “Oh, sis. I’d never presume to do a woman’s task she couldn’t handle herself.”

“Didn’t mom raise you to be a gentleman?”

“Those still exist?”

“And here I thought pigs were the ones that went extinct,” Serene grumbled.

A low cough sounded behind them. They turned in unison to find Takeshi Steele’s striking face cooling into a hard mask.

Her eyes roved over his strong jawline, bottomless eyes, and soft onyx hair that was tousled in a way that appeared intentional.

Takeshi didn’t have to work to be attractive. He just was. The kind of effortlessness an artist aches to capture in a painting. Not pretty, gentle, or subdued, but severe and honed. Like the fine edge of a sword that catches the light.

And when he swung in your direction, you’d witness the captivation of life and ferociousness of death before the very end.

“You have something to say?” Serene glared at him.

Takeshi stared lazily at Serene, raising a thick eyebrow.

Silence stretched across the ruined sands.

Takeshi had always been a man of few words, preferring the dark shadows to people. But the few times he did speak, everyone stopped and took note, begrudgingly respecting him, even if they feared him.

Serene quickly realized that waiting for a response from him was like waiting for bones to decompose.

“That’s it,” she huffed, turning back around. “There’s no hope for men.”

Takeshi was unbothered and shifted his gaze to Khalani.

She sucked in a sharp breath, his pitch-black eyes searing through her skin like every vulnerability within her fragmented mind was laid bare for him.

If she missed an hour of sleep. If she still walked funny from a knee injury that occurred nine years ago. If she harbored a slight fascination with death…he knew.

Takeshi’s black cloak billowed behind him as he openly appraised her for fleeting seconds that seemed to last a lifetime.

Her traitorous heart galloped inside her chest, waiting for something.

But Takeshi broke the intense stare-down and focused past her on the ruined landscape, ignoring her once more.

She pursed her lips, feeling the chasm between them widening with each passing day.

Ever since Takeshi killed the Governor, he treated her like a pariah.

Physically distant and emotionally unavailable were gross understatements.

Whenever she tried striking up a conversation, he either responded with one-word answers or blatantly ignored her. When she offered to take the night watch with him, he outright refused. And every night, as the dark clouds lifted over their heads, Takeshi slept as far from Khalani as possible.

The sudden switch mystified her.

When everyone else was asleep, she relived the ghost of his soft touches in prison. The tender night in his bedroom relentlessly lingered and the truths he relinquished never faded.

But one more thing plagued her. The haunting faces of the Braderhelm prisoners who’d been murdered while Takeshi stood dispassionately by.

After that fateful day, Khalani thought the best move was to bury her feelings in the deepest abyss of her heart and keep her distance from Takeshi Steele.

But it was as if he heard her thoughts and said, ‘Oh, you want space? Get ready to feel like an infectious disease.’

Sometimes, Khalani wondered if she’d imagined their forbidden kiss in Braderhelm. Maybe she fabricated Takeshi’s strong hands fastening to the back of her neck and his lips trailing over her skin like a brand. Or the way his obsidian eyes locked onto her stunned face after saving her from Guard Barron’s assault.

Even though Takeshi refused to speak, Khalani often found him watching her at night.

His cool expression revealed nothing of his thoughts. But whenever Brock instructed them to be more vigilant, she noticed Takeshi shifting closer to her, his menacing gaze scanning the horizon for threats.

And if the irritable Captain only wanted to acknowledge her existence when danger was present, she’d grant him the same disrespect.

Khalani continued marching under the heat of the sun, her thoughts in disarray, but she felt Takeshi’s gaze traipse over the back of her neck, like a dagger dragging across flesh.

Just when the heavy pack digging into her spine became unbearable, Brock raised his voice, “We rest here for the night.”

They stood in the middle of the highway, the sun low in the sky, and surrounded by rusty cars.

A split-second pause, then a bulky pack dropped next to her.

“Thank God,” Serene breathed a heavy sigh. “My heels feel like they’re gonna fall off.”

“You realize we have another ten days of hiking, right? That is, if you don’t slow us down even further,” Brock drawled as he loosened the straps around his camelback.

“Can I stab him yet?” Serene turned to her.

“No. He seems the type who enjoys that sort of thing,” Khalani answered, dropping her pack next to a larger, corroded green vehicle.

“She’s right. But don’t worry, you’re too innocent for my kind of foreplay.”

“Shut up before I let her stab you,” Adan interjected, stretching his arms behind his back. “Who’s taking first watch tonight?”

Unsurprisingly, Takeshi swiftly moved forward, palming his handgun. “I got it.”

The deep timbre of his voice sent shivers down her spine as he strode past her, positioning himself against a large black vehicle a few cars down the road. He crossed his arms, leaning back against the metal, staring across the horizon.

“That one’s called a truck,” Winnie said, slowly lowering herself onto the concrete beside her with Derek’s help.

“What?” Khalani whipped her focus from Takeshi.

Winnie chuckled. “The car he’s leaning against. It’s called a truck. Figured Winnie would let you know since you’re taking such a keen interest.” She gave Khalani a knowing look.

Blood flooded her cheeks. Khalani hastily knelt, stretching her legs out, trying to rid herself of the unwelcome thoughts that kept creeping in.

“Should he really be taking another night shift?” Derek warily eyed Takeshi.

“You’re welcome to ask. Last time I offered, he just glared at me.” Adan shrugged, taking a tiny bite from a protein bar.

Despite having packed plenty of food, Brock insisted they ration their supplies, especially water, as there were only a handful of wells the Death-Zoners used on the road to Hermes.

“Think he gets tired?” Serene pondered.

“What a stupid question. Everyone gets tired,” Brock scoffed, flipping his knife in the air and catching it by the hilt. His other arm was held in a makeshift sling, the result of an injury inflicted by the Governor.

“Humans, yes.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the group.

The perfect face of the Governor, Alexander Huxley, flashed in her mind. His coy grin suddenly morphed into a silent, open-mouthed scream, his head slowly ripping away from his torso.

Torn wires protruded from his neck as his body twitched hauntingly on the ground. And it was Takeshi that stood over him, a cold vengeance buried beneath his eyes.

Khalani shivered despite the warm weather, noticing similar, tight expressions on everyone’s faces. They rarely talked about Alexander Huxley, as if none of them had fully accepted the impossible truth.

The Governor had never been real. He was a machine that ruled over every aspect of their lives.

In the quiet of the night, she dreamt of his soulless blue eyes. Those hollow spheres that held a strange detachment.

Takeshi’s eyes were the opposite.

His gaze was all-consuming. Sometimes, when she looked into his face, it felt as if the entirety of the world stared back, like the depths of his fiery soul couldn’t be contained in one vessel.

“Takeshi’s not like the Governor,” Khalani stated.

“How can you be so sure?” Serene inclined her head.

‘I’ll find some flowers for you.’

His whispered words in prison swept over her. Something within her dark heart recognized him. When he spoke of his deceased mother, the grief in his eyes mirrored her own. That was not something that could be faked.

If there was one certainty Khalani still held, it was that.

“I’m sure.” The finality and confidence in her tone loosened the tension ever so slightly. Serene’s lips were pursed, but she nodded, her trust in Khalani overshadowing her doubts.

As darkness encroached, Khalani looked up at the night sky, a mesmerizing sight she never thought she’d witness. If she stared hard enough, maybe the vast expanse would answer the questions that raced through her heart.

What other lies did Apollo tell them?

Why did the Governor keep them from the surface for so long?

Was he the only machine…

As soft snores began to filter around her, she gently extracted herself from Winnie’s arms. Crouching, she grabbed her bag and carefully tiptoed away from the others, trying not to wake anyone or draw Takeshi’s attention.

She hid behind a small, broken-down vehicle, reaching into her bag to withdraw a sharp blade. The hard edge reflected in her green eyes. Without a second thought, she slowly drew the blade down her palm.

Blood wept from her skin like tears.

Khalani waited.

And waited.

She lifted the bloody hand to her face, peering closer to see if any wires lay hidden within.

But all that remained was broken skin and blood.

Taking a deep breath, she collapsed, ignoring the discomfort as she leaned her head against the car door.

Drawn to the pain, she stared at her palm again, waiting for something terrible to happen.

But nothing did, just the same as the previous night.

And if Khalani could bleed, that meant she was real, too.

Right?