“Of course, because you don’t trust me. Because you’re lying abouteverything.”
His hand comes up, brushing the top of my shoulder with great restraint. Like I’m breakable.
“No, because whatever this is won’t let us do this alone.”
Chapter
Thirteen
ASH
We walk in silence so long I’m not certain she’ll ever speak. Or forgive me.
Dry cheatgrass crushes beneath our feet, medicinal sage lining the air where our legs brush against powder-green leaves. Cicadas scramble and fly as we pass, their rhythmic call percussive as rattlesnakes.
Overhead, a lone raven caws, inky feathers iridescent in the afternoon light. Head cocking as it hunts the brush, occasionally swooping.
I can feel her grief like something just beyond me. As if I could reach out and touch it. Take it away.
But that’s not what she wants.
That’s when I realize she won’t survive this narrative.
“I’m sorry.”
We say it at the same instant. Then, stop staring at each other for too long.
Every inch of me wants her. Down to the individual cells. But I can’t let my biological weakness harm her.
The raven circles back, shadow moving fast along the ground like a terrestrial-bound ghost. That’s how I feel.
“You first,” she says.
The words warm something in my chest. She still sees me despite everything. “I’m sorry you think I betrayed you. By helping them. But I had to?—”
“Why?” It comes out stilted.
“For containment.”
She laughs, stepping forward again, shaking her head. “Containment? None of this is contained.”
“It could be worse,” I say before catching myself.
Her eyes flash, face sharpening.
Dammit.
“It could? How, Ash?” Her voice trembles, eyes simmering.
The air goes hot and too moist, tightening my chest and throat. Now, I’m the one walking… pacing in front of her. Removing my hat and ruffling my hair. Breathing hard because the air’s stifling.
“You think I chose this?” I raise an eyebrow, staring at her directly now. “You think this is what Iwant?”
The last question feels like a lie. Every inch of me hums for her.
Control.
Four in.
