Chapter Eight
AWEEK HAS PASSED SINCETrina’s murder, and it still doesn’t feel real. My body has learned how to move with care, and I’m able to twist and turn without hurting my side. The downside of the fading pain, however, is that it makeseverythingthat happened seemed like a dream.
Not one I want to wake up from, but a dream I want to go back to and replay over and over—
Stop being pathetic, Mira.
I shift restlessly in my seat. I’m at my usual spot by the window in Professor Sigmund’s lecture hall, but I haven’t heard a single word she’s said. My notebook is open to a blank page. My pen is uncapped but motionless. Outside, students crisscross the quad in the late afternoon sun, laughing, texting, living their normal lives.
I envy them.
The auction feels like a fever dream now. The bordello with its golden chandeliers. The countdown clock. The gunfire and the blood and the man with ice-blue eyes who carried me through chaos like I weighed nothing at all.
The man...whose name I never got to know.
I haven’t heard from him since the funeral. Not a call. Not a text. Not even a grunt delivered via carrier pigeon.
Which is fine.
Totally fine.
So stop thinking about him, Mira!
Just stop.
Stop thinking about the way his palm felt against my ribcage when he changed my bandages.
About the warmth of his fingers dragging across my skin.
About the way he looked at my mouth that one time, just for a half-second, before his eyes snapped back to mine like he’d caught himself doing something forbidden.
Because at the end of the day...none of it matters.
I’m safe, I’m no longer his duty, and—oh.
My phone is ringing, and I hastily answer the call when I realize it’s the police.
Fifteen minutes later, and Dane is waiting for me outside the police station when I arrive. I can’t help but notice how much weight he’s lost. Trina may be my cousin, but to Dane, she was the only girl he’s ever loved.
“How are you holding up?” I ask gently.
“I’m hanging on. The counseling helps.” He gives me a card as he says this, and even though I obediently give it a look, I can’t seem to make myself focus on the words. Everything has been a blur lately, I’m starting to wonder if it’s a neurologist I need to see.
