We watched him for weeks, hacking his system and crawling through every single piece of information about him.
Then again, we didn’t even pick up that he was a part of this ‘Omnia’.
“I hid my face,” I whisper to him, and the storm in his eyes calms ever so slightly.
“You did. But they have the means to access any surveillance in the area. If they follow movement on that feed, track everysingle place you go to after that? They’d eventually catch up to you.”
I consider his words, things still not lining up.
“How would they know about…us?” I ask, my eyes searching his, stomach twisting in knots about everything we’re discussing, even the mere slink around the past.
He grinds his jaw, looking over my head when Rex answers for him.
“They won’t. Saint was discovered before your hit on Clarke; they’ll link it back to us. Omnia contacting you to lead you on a false trail was a test…it’s them letting us know they’re coming.”
Unease pours over my skin, and my hand reaches up to rub circles against my temple, trying to ease the headache that’s coming on.
I freeze my movements, my stomach dropping when a piece of the puzzle slides in.
“His wife?”
“Dead.”
My knees threaten to buckle, his words landing like a punch to the chest.
A broken, “How?” is all I can manage.
Resignation washes over his face, and he lifts his hand, hovering it halfway, then placing it on his shoulder instead. “She reported the death as an intrusion. It went straight to Omnia. They covered it up so they could find who’s responsible. They tracked her down and interrogated her. She’ll have been forced to tell them everything she knew.”
I feel sick at what he’s saying, and anxiety gnaws at me from the inside out.
I failed her.
We watched her, made sure she was safe after the death was reported.
She seemed completely fine, moving on towards a life of freedom, getting another chance to live—free fromhim.
Shit, what if the guy Regina saw her with was her killer?
Remorse hovers over me like a slow-moving storm, the conversations around me drowning out as the roaring grows in my ears, threatening to take me under as images of what happened to her pollute my mind.
“Hey,” Saint says softly, the smoothness of his voice breaking through like a low and wary glow of sunlight.
His eyes are filled with conflict as he searches mine but then places a callused palm against my cheek. My eyes instantly flutter closed at the warmth radiating through the contact.
The feeling alone eases the tightness in my chest; it’s still there, just for an entirely different reason now.
“This wasn’t your fault. She asked for him to be taken out; you probably gave her the most peace she’s had in years. She didn’t know what he was a part of, and neither did you. This isn’t either of your faults, Indie.”
There’s not a single piece of blame that can be placed on any of you.
I suck in a shaky breath at his words, mirroring the same conversation we had six years ago.
I didn’t believe them at the time, but eventually I was able to see the truth in them.
It took time, and I can only hope I’m blessed with the same grace, otherwise, it’s a further stain on my soul I don’t need.
My eyes are slow to open, and I stare up at him through my watery lashes, subtly nodding.
