“I left you,” I choked, thrashing against the bed.“I left you there?—”
A sob tore out of me, ugly and animal.
“I told you I’d protect you,” I screamed.“I told you?—”
The memory of Alessio smiling in the gym, of him asking shyly if we could go on missions together, crushed me.
“You trusted me,” I whispered, broken now.“You trusted me not to let you die.”
The machines went wild, alarms shrieking as my heart rate spiked.
“Sedate him?—”
“Hold him?—”
“No!”I fought like a cornered beast.“Don’t— I have to— I have to get to him?—”
I tried to rip the IV out with my teeth.
“Alessio is alone,” I sobbed.“He’s— he’s dead and he’s alone and I wasn’t there?—”
My scream didn’t sound human.It was grief and rage and guilt all twisted together into something violent and unstoppable.
“I should’ve died,” I screamed.“It should’ve been me?—”
The sedative hit my veins.
I felt it spreading, cold and heavy.
“No,” I begged weakly, tears pouring down my temples.“Don’t make me sleep— I don’t want to leave him?—”
My strength failed.My body sagged back against the mattress.
The last thing I felt was the crushing weight of my brother’s absence.
The last thing I whispered was his name.
“Alessio…”
And then sleep took me, carrying my grief into the darkness.
51
Neve
Iwoke in the small infirmary room, wrapped in blankets that smelled faintly of lavender and old wood.The window was cracked just enough to let in the night breeze.Crickets hummed in the distance.
For a moment, I pretended the world was still whole.Then memory crashed back, suddenly cold.
Atlas.Gunfire.Zelda shoving me.Running.The train.Mist.Strangers’ pity.
My chest had tightened painfully.
I sat up too fast, and the room swayed.My hands shook as I pressed them to my eyes.My pulse thundered at my throat, a frantic reminder that I was alive when I wasn’t sure I should be.
Sister Ana sat beside the bed in a creaking wooden chair, watching me with soft worry etched across her features.
“You cried in your sleep.”