Page 17 of The Quoram Effect

Pensively studying the plush carpet between us, Torz’s emotions wreaked havoc across our bond. The swell in mychest was building with an ardent frustration for him. He didn’t deserve to be put in such a position. He’d only ever wanted to help the Puran people. Why was that seen as an offence in our society’s eyes?

“If I endorse Zuli, perhaps I’ll still be able to get supplies to Chaz and Russo, and then…I’ll think of something to…to stop the...” He growled, rubbing his face vigorously. “Maybe, just maybe, she’ll lose the vote.” He shook his head. “I read through all the remaining manifestos last night. Do you know, five out of the eight will condemn the Purans in some shape or form? It’s disgusting.”

“Are any of the others favourable?”

“Governor Joules from the Amythest wants to leave Quoram and find another world the whole civilisation can actually reside on. I see the appeal, but it’s not compelling enough. The closest habitable planet is two-hundred flight-years away.

“Governor Farrow from Platuum wants to enforce compulsory acceptance of the Damson bond.” Torz threw me ayeah, rightlook, and I smiled in understanding. “But it’s Governor Dix’s from the Foundler whose idea sings to me the most. He wants to build a refinery on Pura, offering employment to the Purans. The plan is flawless. The refinery model will give us enough power to sustain generations without relying on Quoram’s energy field, plus it’ll pull the Puran society out of poverty. But…” He sneered with disgust. “It’s the least popular due to the single-minded bastards in power. I’m ashamed to call them my equals.”

Overwhelmed by the need to comfort him, I reached forward and squeezed his arm, but he flinched, pulling his arm away. My insides dropped, remorse gripping my shoulders as he rubbed his inner forearm, twisting it away from me.

He shot to his feet and awkwardly motioned to the covered injury. “Sprained, remember?”

Sensing his embarrassment, I frowned. Did it hurt that much, or did he really not want me to touch him?

“I…um…” His awkward mannerisms suggested the latter, and as I became stuck in the confines of my remorseful and confused mind, I barely registered his next words.

“You should take it easy, Rems. A knife wound to the shoulder is nasty. Take the next few days off.”

“W…what?” A lump of panic rose in my gullet. “And do what, exactly?”

“Rest.” Torz flashed a tender smile, no doubt aware of the despair swirling in the pit of my stomach. “You work harder than I do.”

Narrowing my eyes, I stuck my tongue out at him. “Maybe you should pay me more.”

Torz’s laugh fluttered through my veins, filling me with a soothing warmth. But the cold emptiness quickly returned, reminding me that this wonderful man was not mine, and never would be.

Chapter Eight

The Damson God didn’t visit me that night. Dreams failed to take hold—I couldn’t sleep. My shoulder was on fire, and the painkillers the nurse had prescribed didn’t seem to be hitting the mark. As the hours trundled by, the pain intensified, engulfing my arm, my shoulder, my chest. I was frozen in agony, burning in an inferno of hell. An ice pack helped numb the area enough to catch an hour of sleep, but when I woke, drenched in a mix of melted ice and sweat, nausea swamped me.

I tried to rest the following day, but regardless of the throbbing in my shoulder, my head was full of quandaries, concerned for Torz. The steady trickle of anxiety pouring across our bond did nothing to soothe my own. He was suffering, and I didn’t know how to help. What could I do? The ordeal was between him and Governor Zuli…and Nikos Russo. And now Chaz—

Gods, I’d killed three of his men.

But what I couldn’t figure out was why Chaz’s men had involved themselves in an assassination attempt. Yes, okay, they’d obviously heard about Zuli and her cabinet’s deplorable bigotry, but Chaz’s team were renowned for staying undercover, never allowing themselves to be at the forefront of political protest and a brewing rebellion. Their aim was to bring aid to their people, not hinder it.

I peered at my comms: 14:19 hours. I could’ve sworn time was ticking backwards. Consumed by a clash of despair, boredom, and unbearable pain, I clutched my shoulder, forcing myselffrom the couch, and headed to my bedroom. Removing my pyjamas and re-dressing in my work uniform was exhausting. And after taking another dose of painkillers—hoping they would take effect this time—I staggered out of my apartment.

I barely registered where my feet were taking me. With every footstep, a torturous pang of stabbing fire afflicted my body, resonating from the depths of my damn shoulder wound. By the time I turned towards the guarded doors of Delta Ring’s Command Centre, I was sweating, balling my fists, and breathing heavily through gritted teeth.

The guard took one glance at me, noted the black Argentum uniform and a familiar face, then opened the door. I was glad he saw nothing beyond that.

As I crossed the threshold, meeting the usual hubbub of voices filling the vast, circular room, I sucked in a huge intake of air, attempting to cease my panting breaths.

Gods, why am I so out of breath?

The doors hissed shut behind me, and I leaned back against the bulkhead as dizziness tried to drive me to my knees. But I continued to breathe deeply, denying my incapacitated body the chance to succumb to defeat.

Wiping the sweat beading at my temples, I glanced about the room. Dozens of administrators, air-traffic controllers, and department heads busied themselves at their workstations, oblivious to my struggle. Through the line of computer desks, Torz’sofficialoffice stood on the far side. Its glass walls were set to clear; the blinds open.

And in his chair sat Marla Hyde with her fiery-red hair bouncing around her slender, silk shoulders. With a smile full of delightful tease, she looked up at Torz who stood beside her, offering her a handheld screen.

My heart convulsed at the sight, jarring with every feverish thud. It worsened when Torz laughed at something she said, hiseyes creasing at the corners with genuine amusement. And the fierce flames in my shoulder were suddenly overshadowed by a frosty sting of…was that jealousy?

No. No. Stop it!I chastised myself. Torz was aiding Marla with her enquiries, nothing more. Zuli had ordered him to provide Marla with any information she needed, otherwise there would be condemning consequences. Clearly, he was monitoring what she accessed, personally…nothing more!

“Remi.” A hand waved vigorously in front of my face, and I flinched, sending another agonising flare through my left shoulder. Grimacing, I looked up and found Saul standing beside me, his dark eyebrows pinched together. “You look like shit.”