Tina rolled her eyes and swept out the door. The man accompanying her held back slightly. His features were pale, though his eyes were pitch black. An uncontrollable shiver trembled down Romy’s spine at the lack of emotion on his angular face. He was dressed in the same patterned green clothing as the other soldiers. But none of the others had stared at her this way.

Tina’s sharp voice echoed back into the building and the man cut their uncomfortable exchange off, ducking out of the doorway after Tina.

Romy returned to Houston’s room for a mere five minutes before finally acknowledging she couldn’t do anything else to help. Even if Houston came back, she wouldn’t be needed.

Wandering down the hallway, right to the end, Romy peered at Deimos through the glass and expelled a shaky breath. It was still so close to the surface—how they nearly lost him. She understood how soldiers aboard the orbitos went insane after the death of their knot members. It didn’t happen often, because usually the entire craft was blown to smithereens, but space walks failed, or sometimes surviving members were miraculously pulled to safety after evacuating the battlers. These soldiers—the insane soldiers—were sent to Orbito Four. It was the orbito no one wanted. Because if you went there, it was because everyone you’d ever loved in your short, controlled lifetime was dead.

Romy slid open the transparent door and stepped inside, closing it behind her.

Deimos’s breath came evenly now. The ragged splutters of a few days ago were blissfully absent. There was colour in his cheeks and lips. And the long black lashes that matched his long wavy hair were spread out against his high cheekbones. Romy doubted Deimos could pull himself up with how weak he appeared. But this was an improvement, so she wasn’t complaining.

She’d pulled up a chair and had just grabbed hold of Deimos’s hand when the door slid open behind her. She was jerked from her thoughts as a blood-splattered Houston entered the room. Romy wrinkled her nose at the sight.

“Why aren’t you polishing my scalpels for the tenth time?” he asked with a wink.

The young man approached the screen at the end of Deimos’s bed and studied the information there over his glasses. It all looked like nonsense to Romy.

She shrugged, not answering. She was pissed off at Atlas and not in the mood to talk.

“Huh,” was the bemused reply to her silence. “How ‘bout we wake Frankenstein up?”

She knew her expression was utterly blank. “Who is—?”

Houston pushed a series of buttons on the screen. A single beep sounded, and the doctor pushed his glasses up, watching Deimos expectantly.

Deimos groaned and Romy flew out of her seat. She tore her gaze away from her knot mate, who was very clearly waking up.