Slowly, I pried my eyes open to an assault from blinding sunlight, and I let out an annoyed grunt, silently cursing everyone in the room for not having the basic decency to close the damn curtains.
A hand slipped into mine and squeezed it lightly.James. Even in my half-conscious state, I’d know his calloused hand out of a thousand. A small, involuntary smile tugged at my lips—one I fervently hoped wasn’t accompanied by drool.
His index finger traced tenderly across my palm, the light touch sending a shiver through me. It tickled, sure, but more, it sent flutters spiraling in my stomach, a sensation as overwhelming as it was comforting.
With a monumental effort, I turned my head to my right, squinting to meet the person I already knew was waiting for me. Sure enough, James’s vivid green orbs locked onto mine.
"James," I whispered, my voice rough and raw, as if it hadn’t been used in weeks. I didn’t bother acknowledging anyone else in the room.
"You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say my name," he grumbled, his own voice deeper, raspier than usual, and heavy with emotion.
Without thinking, I brought our joined hands to my lips and pressed them lightly against his knuckles. The gesture was weak, trembling even, but I poured every ounce of devotion I could muster into it. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had.
“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat, signaling we weren’t alone. James stiffened beside me, his muscles tightening with more than simple irritation at being interrupted. I squeezed his hand, a silent reminder of the connection we still shared despite the intrusion. For a fleeting moment, it worked, and I could sense him relax.
But then, like a light switch flicking on in the dark, the memories came flooding back, blurry but relentless.
Our last fight.
Julian.
The True Bond.
James telling me to stay away, to not contact him anymore. The hurt in his look, the finality in his words.
And then the Radicals.
I jolted upright, yanking my hand from his. Fire licked up my ribs, and my breath caught like I'd been punched from the inside out.
Justine stood near the window with an unreadable expression; while Stephen stepped closer, his features drawn tight with worry.
"What happened?" I rasped, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears. Damn, how long had I been out?
"You don’t remember?" Stephen asked quietly. His tone was gentle but it carried a clear undercurrent of concern.
I tried to figure out all the fragmented memories hitting me like shrapnel from my own thoughts. "Not entirely. I—" My focus shifted to James, searching his face for something—reassurance, maybe. "I remember us fighting about Julian; I remember Radicals attacking us."
"Hundreds of Radicals broke through our Layers and stormed the Universitas." Justine spoke from across the room, her fingers twisting the hem of her sleeve. "They turned on the Amplifier. You were at the Scola, and fought them with Jackson by your side."
I hesitated, the fog in my head gradually lifting, the pieces beginning to fall into place.
"They came for you," I whispered to James, the image suddenly clear in my mind. "I saw them lunging foryou."
He nodded, then smiled, soft and grateful. "You saved me."
Stephen leaned forward; his eyes gleaming with pride. "It wasn't only James you saved, my dear Emma. From what I understand, you saved practically everyone."
Justine snorted. "Saved? Sure—she saved a few kids, then killed almost everyone else in the process—Radicals and us!" Her words dripped with accusation, hardly masking the emotion simmering right beneath the surface.
My jaw dropped. "I didwhat?"
James coughed. “Well, sweetheart?—”
What the hell was he calling me sweetheart for? Didn’t he tell me never to contact him again? Because of Julian and our True Bond?
Speaking of, where the hell was Julian?
“As far as we can tell, you linked your translation with the Amplifier, which enhanced it—without you imploding. In trying to save my life, you kind of went nuclear,” he said, smiling.
