I feel something inside me turn over slowly and lock into place.
“I want to avenge this patient,” I say.
Cassian looks at me. “Are you sure?”
I nod. “I am.”
Silence settles between us one last time before Talon breaks it.
“What do you say we give this man a proper burial first?” he asks.
I couldn’t agree more.
I look at the door, at the empty space where the Reaper vanished, at the quiet machinery of a system that failed long before tonight. Maybe the measure of who I am isn’t how I fit inside that system but what I’m willing to do to tear it down.
“And when we’re done,” I say, “we come back for Harrow and Keene.”
Cassian nods once.
Talon exhales shakily. “Guess we just found our first project together.”
I look down at the man on the table one last time and straighten his head on the pillow. A pointless act of respect. I do it anyway.
Something tells me this is only the beginning. The beginning of an end, some would say.
I’m fine with that. I’ve been fine with that from the very start.
Ihave nightmares. Plural.
I’m literally haunted in my dreams, and I can’t even say by what. Is it a foreign entity that wants to kill me? Is it me from another universe? Is it pain itself? Whatever it is, it doesn’t always show up the same way, which somehow makes it worse.
From time to time, I wake up with this gnawing paranoia, like every second I spend asleep is part of some dangerous setup, and I’m never actually safe.
Which is, in a way, almost funny. Because I’m not safe in the waking world either.
The moment I open my eyes for real, two other pairs of eyes are already on me. Watching. Focused. So intensely it feels almost unreal, like I dragged the nightmare into daylight and it simply traded shapes.
“Hi,” Hailey says. “A bad dream?”
“Uh, yeah,” I murmur, pushing myself upright and rubbing at my forehead.
The first movement I make tells me the van is already in motion. The narrow slit that passes for a window shows clear blue sky sliding by.
“We’re already moving?” I ask. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
They exchange a look, and the little flicker of it makes something click in my head.
Lila is awake.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her conscious. I shift my gaze to her and notice her whole body is vibrating with restless energy. I don’t even know if shaking is the right word. She jitters, like her nerves are plugged directly into a live wire. Her fingers keep tapping against her knees, and her eyes refuse to settle on any one point for more than a heartbeat.
Her blonde hair brushes her collarbones, and she has a strand caught between her teeth, worrying it like she can chop it with her teeth.
I clear my throat.
“Hi. I’m Skye,” I tell her gently. “We don’t know each other.”
“Mhm,” she says.
