“That’s crazy—”
“Juliette spoiled you.”
“Youspoiled me,” I shoot back.
“Shut up.”
Now I’m smiling, falling into easy step beside him. I glance at Warner out of the corner of my eye, wondering whether he’ll berate me any more than this, but he doesn’t. Weird. One time, as a kid, I dropped a rack of weights on my arm, snapping it in two places, and his angry (panicked) tirade lasted an hour. This speech lasted only a few minutes.
And then it hits me:
“You’re not even that mad, are you?” I say, my spirits lifting. “You’re actually a little bit impressed with me, aren’t you?”
Warner doesn’t look at me.
“You are, aren’t you?” Now I’m excited. Tension loosens my shoulders. My smile widens. “You think I’m amazing. You think I’m a genius for making it back alive—”
“I think you’re an idiot,” he says sharply. He comes to a stop behind a closed door, flashing me a warning look. “You think coming back alive is something to be proud of? You think death is the worst thing that can happen to you? Dying is easy. Enduring your own pain is a mercy. Hell is when you’re forced to stay alive, looking on as your enemies take away someone you love—torturesomeone you love— while you’re helpless to save them. Sometimes we pray for death, James. Sometimes making it out alive is worse than death.”
This kills the smile on my face immediately.
“But this,” Warner says, subdued as he reaches into his pocket, “is perhaps an interesting result of your time spent on the island.”
He holds up the little blue chip I ripped out of the squirrel. No longer bloody. He’s clearly been examining it.
I manage a tentative smile. “So … I did okay?”
“You hand-delivered a mercenary of The Reestablishment directly into the epicenter of the resistance, granting her access to every high-profile leader of the opposition. You brought her here without forethought, without even checking her for concealed weapons—”
“I did, actually,” I say in a rush. “I did search her—”
“Did you search inside herhead?” he asks, cutting me off. “Did you peel back her skin to scan for surveillance tech,trackers, subtle explosives—”
“Shit. No.” I take a tight breath. “No. I didn’t do that.” Warner touches a hand to the door and it scans his data, unsealing a moment later with a sigh. He pulls it open, and I follow him inside the dark room, lights pinging on as we enter the narrow hall. I’ve never been in here before. An interior vestibule opens up to a larger room, sparsely furnished, its only distinguishing characteristic the massive window taking up one wall. I do a double take.
On the other side is Rosabelle, lying in a hospital bed.
The sight of her stops me in my tracks.
James
Chapter 20
I haven’t seen Rosabelle in thirty-six hours.
When she collapsed on the chopper I caught her on impulse, pulling her into my arms so she wouldn’t tumble out the open door. The seat belts—and a bunch of other features—had malfunctioned after I stole the trike from Jeff, which meant I had to hold Rosabelle against my chest for the remainder of the thirty-minute flight. She was so small and distressingly lightweight that it was almost too easy to gather her in my arms, her cheek pressed against my neck. I checked the wound above her eye, and her skin was like silk, so soft.
For half an hour I’d held her tight with my good arm, navigating the aircraft with my bad arm. When I finally managed to land the chopper, I had to carry her through dense forest and steep terrain. By the time I reached the nearest town, I was so wiped I nearly fell to my knees, holding Rosabelle up like an offering.
Even now, remembering this, my heart begins an unsteady beat. Holding her had felt natural and easy, as if I’d done it a hundred times. I couldn’t understand my reaction to her then, and I don’t understand my reaction to her now. All I know is that the instinct to protect her comes so naturally to me that I have to actively work to shut it off.Hell, I couldn’t even help reaching for her when she was about to kill me.
I swallow, staring at her through the window.
This is bad. This is really bad. Blood is actively rushing to my head now, making me stupider. I can still feel her under my hands. The scent of her still lives in my head.
“Are you done?” Warner asks grimly, plucking a glowing tablet off the wall. “Or do you need more time alone with your delusions?”
This clears my thoughts in an instant.
