Siblings:Sister Gabriel Sinclair(born Delilah Clark toThomasandElizabeth Harris)
Location: Southwest Region, The Brotherhood’s Institute for Boys
Health Information: No known allergies. Last physical exam revealed no unusual findings.
Benji clicks on my mother’s name, which is apparently linked to her file. A photo of her populates in the upper left corner, and tears fill my eyes. It’s her, but she looks so much older. Her eyes lack the fire I knew so well and she doesn’t smile. It’s like the mother I knew doesn’t exist anymore. I lean forward further over his shoulder to see the screen better.
Name: Elizabeth Harris (formerly married toThomas Clark)
Age: Forty-five
Occupation: Maid forLord Jacob Wright
Location: Northeast Region
Health Information: No longer of childbearing age. No behavioral issues.
“She’s alive,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone. The relief coursing through my veins is enough to make me feel ten times lighter, like I’ve had a few glasses of wine. “My father?” I ask, even though I already know the answer, deep down.
Benji clicks on my father’s name. A photo of his body on our kitchen floor populates in the corner. He’s lying in a pool of his own blood, eyes unseeing.
Name: Thomas Clark
Age: Deceased. Killed for resisting during the Reckoning.
I look away from the screen, but it’s too late—the horrifying image is burned into my brain. My eyes find Maverick’s, who’s already looking at me. “You all right?”
I can’t force the wordsgoodorfinepast my lips, so I just nod.
“Ben,” Maverick growls, and when I look back at the screen, my father’s file is no longer pulled up.
“Thank you for your help,” I manage to tell Benji before rushing past Maverick and out of the tent.
Zeus pops his head up from where he’s lying in the long grass, his dark eyes tracking my movements. The fresh air helps the impending panic attack, but I still squat down and put my head between my knees, forcing myself to take deep breaths.
I hear Maverick follow me out of the tent, can sense his presence near me, but he doesn’t speak.
For once, I let myself ask the questions that were beaten out of me years ago, the questions I’ve kept buried.Why did they kill him? Why did any of this happen? What would my life have looked like if the Brotherhood never took over?The questions I’ve never allowed myself to ponder, the image of my dad’s lifeless body, knowing the blood I walked through that nightwasindeed his… it’s all too much.
None of my usual grounding techniques are working. I can’t catch my breath. Everything is spinning.
“Mrs. Sinclair?” Maverick’s voice sounds muffled, like we’re underwater. “Mrs. Sinclair,” he repeats, sitting next to me and placing a hand on my arm.
I look over at him, hyperventilating.
“Hey,” he says. “You okay?”
I shake my head, unable to articulate anything when it feels like I’m drowning.
Without a word, he gathers me into his arms, holding me tightly. “Breathe, Delilah.”
His smell, the steady pressure of his arms around me, and his clear direction all help. I do as he says, and I’m able to take my first deep breath in what feels like ages.
“That’s great,” he encourages. “Again.”
He breathes deep so that our breaths synchronize, our chests rising and falling together. After a few minutes, the panic recedes and I’m able to breathe normally again.
“I’m sorry,” I say. Embarrassment and humiliation creep their way in, making me feel like a child.
