Cress

"She has  Scarlet"  said  Cinder.  "Quick—close the  hatch!   I'll  take  the  other 
pod,  I'll follow them—"
      Her words faltered, her brain catching up.
        She did not know how to fly a podship.
    But  she  could  figure  it  out. She  could  download  some  instructions   and
     she could ... she would have to ...
          "Your friend is dying."
          She spun around. She'd forgotten about the Lunar guard.
          He was pressing a hand to  his  side,  where  Cinder's projectile  was  still  
             embedded, but his attention was on Wolf.
            Wolf, was unconscious and surrounded by blood.
        "Oh,  no. Oh,  no." She  ejected  the  knife  in  her  finger and   started  cutting 
             the bloodstained  fabric   away  from  Wolf's   wounds. "Thorne.  We  need  to
            get  Thorne. Then we can go after Scarlet and I ... I'll bandage Wolf and—"
           She  glanced  at  the  guard. "Shirt,"  she  said  firmly,  although  the  order
          was  more to  focus  her  own  thoughts.  In  seconds,  the  guard's  hands  were 
        working  at  her command,  removing  the  empty   gun   holster and   pulling
        his  own   blooded   shirt over his head. Jmjjk She was glad to see a second un-
        dershirt as well—she had  a   feeling  they  were  going  to need  every  bit  of
        "bandaging"  she  could   find to    stanch   Wolf's  bleeding. Eventually  they
        would have to get  him  to   the   medley,   but   there   was   no  way  she  could
        move him in this condition, especially not  up that ladder.
            She tried to  ignore  the  niggling  thought  in   her   head   that  this   was   not 
        enough. That not even the bandages in the medley would be enough.
            She  grabbed  the  guard's  shirt   and   bunched   it   against Wolf's   chest.  At 
        least  this bullet  had   missed  his  heart. She  hoped  the  other  one  hadn't  hit 
        anything  vital either.
            Her  thoughts  were  hazy,  repeating  over   and   over   in   her   head.   They
           had  to  get Thorne. They to go after Scarlet. They had to save Wolf.
              She couldn't do it all.
            She couldn't do any of it.
              "Thorne—"  Her  voice   broke. "Where's   Thorne?"  Keeping   one  hand 
          pressed onto Wolf's wound, she   reached   for  the   guard   with   the   other,
          grabbing   his   collar  and  pulling  him  toward  her.  "What  did  you  do  to
            Thorne?"
            "Your friend who  boarded   the  satellite,"  he  said,  as  much  a statement
           as  a question. There was in his face, but not enough. "He's dead."
            She shrieked and slammed him into the wall. "You're lying!"
                       He  flinched, but didn't  try  to   protect   himself,  even  though she'd   al-
                  ready  lost her  focus. She  could  not  keep  him  under  her  control  so  long
                 as   her   thoughts   were  so  divided,  so  long  as  this  chaos  and  devastation
          reigned in her head.
              Mistress Sybil changed the satellite's    trajectory,   removing   it from 
          orbit.  It  will  burn  up  during  entry.  It  probably  already  has.  There's  noth-
        ing you can do."
        "No,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head. Every  part  of   her  was  trembling. "She
    wouldn't have sacrificed her own programmer too."
            But there was no telltale orange light in her vision.  He wasn't lying.
              The guard leaned his head back as his  gaze  skimmed  Cinder  from   head
                  to  toe, as if examining an  unseal  specimen. "She would sacrifice any-
                one to get to you. The queen seems to believe you're a threat."
                  Cinder ground her  teeth  so  hard  she  felt  that  her  jaw  would snap from 
            the pressure.  There it was—stated with  such blatant simplicity.
                  This was her fault. This was all her fault.