A beat of silence passed before he added, quieter still:
“Your story.”
NINETEEN
JAMES
Three months ago
I knew he would be there; I simply knew. He was always nearby, never letting her out of his sight. It was creepy and completely unnecessary, as if he could help her in a way I couldn't.
Entering the room, I found her laying on the bed, beautiful but unnaturally still. If not for her heartbeat, one might mistake her for dead. The magically induced coma should’ve worn off already. Why the hell wasn’t she waking up?
And as expected, there he stood, watching over her like always. He turned around, smiling. That smirking son of a?—
Without realizing what I was doing, I lunged and punched him in the face. Hard. He staggered slightly, stunned by the hit.Asshole.
"This is all your fault," I heard myself shout when I struck him again. He blocked my arm with his, than grabbed it with his other one, and yanked me down. We crashed to the floor, atangle of limbs, exchanging kicks and guttural grunts like wild animals scrapping over the last scrap of food.
“If you hadn’t cowered your way out when the attack happened, you could’ve stopped the fucking Radicals! Emma wouldn’t be fighting for her life right now!” I roared, the fury and frustration boiling over as I straddled him. I pinned him down, fists hammering wherever I could reach.
"James, stop!" he yelled, his voice cracking with a mix of anger and desperation, but it only fueled the fire in me. His arms came up defensively, but I didn’t care. The blinding rage inside me refused to relent, every strike echoing the helplessness clawing at my chest.
"I…figured…out…a way…to help her!" he wheezed, each word forced out between the blows.
I instantly froze; my fist suspended midair. His breath came in ragged bursts, but mine wasn’t much better. After a beat, I rolled off him, and we both lay there on the floor, chests heaving, trying to catch our breath.
"We need to talk, " he said.
"Okay," I responded dryly, "So talk."
He shook his head. “Not here,” he said steadily, despite the fresh bruises darkening his face. He stood abruptly and extended a hand toward me—a gesture completely at odds with the fact I’d just beat the shit out of him.
I glared at him and declined, pushing myself to my feet. My knuckles ached, and my breathing was ragged, but none of it mattered. Emma mattered. She was all that mattered.
“Fine,” I said curtly. “Let’s find somewhere more private.”
Without another word, we left the room and stepped through a portal of Julian’s making, emerging at the edge of the forest.
The sun had dipped behind the tree line, its last light casting long, jagged shadows. A cold wind whipped through the clearing, cutting through my shirt, but I barely felt it. Mythoughts were too consumed, too frantic, to care about anything else.
Impatient for what was to come, I snapped, “This should be far enough. Now, what’s your solution for Emma?”
He stood a few feet from me, head bowed, refusing to meet my eyes. Frustrated, I punched his arm, harder than necessary.
"Fine!" he burst out, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "This isn’t easy for me to say, but I’ve replayed it a thousand times these past two weeks, and it’s the only way. But before I tell you, you have to promise—promise—never to reveal what I’m about to say. Not to anyone. Ever!"
I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Sure,” I said flatly, not bothering to hide my skepticism.Why should I care about his secrets?
“James, listen to me.” His voice dropped. “What I’m about to tell you will shatter everything you think you know. If this gets out, the consequences will be catastrophic. You have to keep this a secret.”
Something about the way he looked at me twisted like a knife. My jaw clenched, and I forced a nod. “Fine. I promise.”
“Not even Emma,” he reiterated firmly. “Especiallynot her.”
Fuck. Not again with this shit.
"I can't stress this enough," he warned, "I won't tell you anything if you disclose any of this to anyone, including Emma."
