Thirty-nine
Ryann knew she couldn’t act in anger. Murdoch was stronger than her, and he wore a Preben on his hip. He could also call his NeoGens in as protection.
So she allowed one of these poor creatures to return her to her cell. When the door clicked locked, Ryann lay on the bunk and closed her eyes.
She should think logically. She should plan. But she couldn’t. Instead, Ryann let the memories come, faces in her mind, a roll-call of Kaiahive’s victims.
Cathal. Arela, Ula, Lynet. Merna, and Torrey and Turi. And Tris—alive or dead, he’d been taken by the shades, another victim.
She had to assume that Farrell was dead, and that brought up other faces and names, the rest of the survivors of Haven. Piran and Eljin. Ronat. And Keelin.
So much promise! How was it fair that someone so
