She had to save them.
Kira staggered forward, not sure why she couldn't walk. Maybeshe was dead too.
The lights in the room dimmed, and the floor tilted. Her eyes fluttered.
Thoughts screamed inside of her so loudly, but she couldn't understand them.
Hands clasped her shoulders, and everything felt unsteady when she turned her head, looking up into Zayne's eyes. But he didn't look like himself. He looked like the Zayne Riven from the first day in the prison, with the cold glare.
“Try not to faint, Ms. Stiles.” The Phaedra sounded annoyed. “Bring her over here, Zayne. Careful. We don't want her slipping on the way.”
“I need to help her.” Kira lifted a violently shaking finger to point at the woman whose eyes she looked into. “She's bleeding.”
“Quiet,” Zayne whispered.
“She's bleeding.” Her breath picked up, and she tried to jerk away from Zayne, but he held tight to her arms. “Look at her.”
“I understand you're in shock,” the Phaedra said. “They don't have the privileges of shock, so why should you? It's your fault they're all dead. Look at them, girl. All of them dead. All because of you.”
Dead?
Kira blinked, and that screaming inside of her broke through to her conscious mind.
The Followers were dead.
That was what her mind had been crying out to her.
A shuddering sob ripped through her lungs, and she doubled over, heaving, though nothing came out. Zayne's hands held her up when her knees went limp, and she dangled above a sea of blood.
Something told her she needed to find control because this was only the beginning, but she wasn't sure she wasn't lying dead among the bodies.
Nothing was real.
Nothing made sense.
Closing her eyes, she focused on his palms and fingers against her, thinking only of his touch. But when she looked up at him, searching for him, dead eyes watched her. She didn't see a speck of the Zayne she knew in them. He stood with her in the midst of the blood-soaked room and looked at her without as much as a tightened jaw.
Powerful waves of nausea slammed into her gut. She dipped again, breath quickening.
“This is the elder of this church.” The Phaedra nodded at a man kneeling before him. “He turned all these people into whores for the United.” Snapping, the Phaedra lowered his voice. “Turn and face the woman who killed your people.”
Kira didn't kill them. She'd never kill them. She tried to save him.
But seeing the eyes of a man who watched his people get slaughtered cut down anything inside of Kira other than guilt.
Did she kill the Followers?
“I didn't mean to.” She didn't recognize her own voice.
“You see, we came to free the innocent people held hostage by the terrorists. We were too late. They'd killed them all.” The Phaedra's eyes narrowed at her. “If you let your mom speak, and we didn't waste time salvaging her words, we would've arrived in time to save them.”
Was it true?
Kira never believed anything the Phaedra said, but for a terrifying moment, she wondered if she'd always been wrong. All this blood destroyed her ability to think and reason, even to remember. The Phaedra stole her mind and heart, squeezing it tighter with each passing second.
“Zayne?” She needed help. Something was wrong with her. She wasn't herself, and she didn't know how to find her way back. “Adelle…” She'd know what to do.
The hands holding her arms tightened slightly, saving her from falling over a ledge.
