“You’re fucking amazing,” I gasp out. He grins, kissing me fiercely and we’re up again.
“Front gate!” he shouts.
When I try to remember this night later, for months it will only be in flashes of light, blurs of color, and the never-ending thump of weapons fired. I follow Cormac. I shoot when I see movement and I duck when he pulls me down.
What I do remember clearly is the last helicopter, hovering over the Dean’s building, tearing up the ground, windows shattering, and entire sections of surrounding buildings being reduced back to crumbled stone. Then the brightest light of all, reflected a thousand times in the glass of the arboretum. A single man lights up as his missile hits true, exploding the Blackhawk into a flaming rain of metal down on top of him.
The next morning…
“This was where he stood, I think.”
Cormac and I are walking through the shattered remains of the arboretum; hills and valleys of jagged glass shards and the shredded remains of the trees and flowers the old gardener nurtured here.
I hiss as my hand brushes a piece of charred timber, still hot to the touch.
“Are you all right?” He takes my hand with a frown, placing a kiss on the reddened mark on my skin.
“It’s nothing.” I’m watching him greedily, memorizing his eyes, his beautiful face, shadowed in mourning for his friend. “I’m sorry, I’m ashamed to say that I don’t even know his name.”
“Karl Lawrence Brennan,” he says with a strange little smile. “But he preferred Larry.” Kissing the reddened mark on my hand again, he pulls me out of the glass minefield. “I’ll tell you more about him sometime.”
While scores of the enemy were killed last night, the only students who lost their lives were the traitors.
Poor Liam. I made sure that Dean Christie knew what he’d done for me.
Students, faculty, and staff are all moving through the rubble of the Academy, and trucks are already arriving with manpower and medical supplies. I’d seen Dr. Giardo earlier, shouting at two med techs that just arrived. That man’s ready to have an aneurysm at this point. But here in the remains of the arboretum, Cormac and I are alone.
“I can’t see you anymore.” It bursts out of me like poison, dragged from me kicking and screaming.
“What do you mean?” He turns to me, still holding my hand and I pull it away awkwardly.
“My father’s coming for me in a couple of days. He’ll be taking me home and you and I will never see each other again.” I try to sound firm and I know I’m failing miserably. The pathetic little quiver at the end of my words shames me. “This…” I gesture aimlessly, “Whatever this was is over. I’m going back to my world, you’re going back to yours. This has to end now.”
What are you saying?The desperate part of me is screaming.You love him! Shut the fuck up!
“That can’t be what you want,” Cormac says slowly, frowning.
“It doesn’t matter what I want.” I try for a caustic little laugh but it comes out more like a sob. “I know the rest of my life. It’s allmapped out for me and you’re not in it. I’d- I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone that we…”
“We fucked?” he says sharply. “That we fucked? Repeatedly? That you gave me your virginity?”
“Don’t be a bastard,” I snap, each word from his mouth is hitting like the bullets that missed me last night. These feel just as painful. “I’ll… I’ll handle it. But it would help if you didn’t…”
“Mala.” His hands are rubbing my arms gently and I turn my face away. “Why are you doin’ this? Do you not trust me to take care of you? You really don’t believe we are meant for more than this?”
Yanking myself away, I snap, “Takecareof me? I’m not a fucking infant and I’m not yours, period. Take the hint, Cormac. You fucked a student, congratulations. I got my little adventure and bagged the professor. But we’re done now.”
He’s silent, staring down at me with his hands on his hips and he doesn’t look angry, he looks… compassionate.
“We’re done.” I walk away as fast as I can, breaking into a run when I turn the corner, sobbing like my heart’s been pulled from my chest.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
In which we learn that Mala’s father is just as horrible as we thought he was.
Mala…
“I knew Dean Christie believes in the value of hard work,” Willow says, leaning on her shovel, “but I honestly didn’t anticipate that to include construction and disaster cleanup.”
