Catalyst (Savior Complex #1)

5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Callie

I didn’t want to be at dinner. At first, it was because I needed to have as much of my project done as possible before Wearable Combat Systems on Monday. Sure, it wasn’t due for another fifteen weeks, but if I walked in completely finished, one of the Aegis heroes in the room might notice, tell my dad, and maybe then he’d love me again… That way, I could go home and quit bothering Jace and Kane.

Then, as much as I hated to admit it, Jace’s warnings got to me, even if his thoughts were filled with how “nice” Gianna and Shin allegedly were. Now, as the five of us gathered around a table far too large for such an assemblage, it was the noise of everyone’s thoughts that bothered me most.

Gianna’s weren’t the loudest, but they still cut through the others.

She’s a pretty little thing. Too bad she’s a Voltaris.

Her gaze swept over me, dissecting me like I was a piece of art she couldn’t decide whether to buy or burn. None of it was personal. She had a business to run, and she couldn’t risk hero-spawn poking around in it.

Kane’s thoughts were the quietest—but they were full of worry.

She’s going to have to get used to our family if she sticks around. He took a bite of lamb, then rested his hand on my knee. I just wish she’d eat. She hasn’t eaten all day. She’s going to get sick…

I tried to tune out his wariness as I picked up my fork to push the roasted squash cubes around my plate. I was the only person who could lessen Kane’s concerns, but I just couldn’t bring myself to eat—not with Shin Seo staring at me.

His mind was like a tomb, completely and utterly void of all life. But, his presence was the most suffocating. Not just because I knew from all my father’s stories that he was evil, but because he looked so much like Sulien.

Same eyes, same nose, same chin. Even the way he stared at me reminded me of his son. But while Shin was in his late fifties, his son would never be older than twenty-two. My bottom lip quivered as Shin extended a shaky hand toward his water glass, his gaze still locked on mine.

Sulien had mentioned his dad being sick a lot—some form of cancer, though he never said which. I assumed that was why Shin looked so gaunt and pale. I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly, as I wondered what Shin looked like when he was healthy. If I had known that, I could have imagined what the future might have held for Sulien if the world hadn’t had a vendetta against star-crossed lovers.

“Callie, are you alright?” Gianna’s voice yanked me from my thoughts.

My eyes snapped open, and I forced a smile. The kind my parents had taught me to plaster on whenever the cameras were around.

“I’m okay.” The words came out too brittle, and I could tell by the way everyone’s eyes shifted toward me that no one believed them.

The combined weight of their gazes was too much for the fragile facade of “fine” I’d thrown together. An apple-sized lump formed in my throat, one I frantically tried to swallow. Somehow, that made it worse.

The lump sank lower, cutting off any chance I had of breathing normally as my eyes started to burn.

“Callie,” Kane’s gruff whisper reached me just as I let out the world’s softest, most embarrassing whimper.

This was something I was used to. I could handle it. For months, I’d been swallowing my grief so I wouldn’t burden my family more than I already did. But that’s the thing about grief—it doesn’t like being ignored. And apparently, it never goes away. Now, sitting between two people I was bothering and two of the most dangerous strangers I’d ever met, my grief made it painfully clear that I wasn’t managing it nearly as well as I thought I had been.

Pressure built in my chest, and each breath I tried to take felt more suffocating than the last. I couldn’t take it. The way they looked at me, the sound of their thoughts, the knowledge that I was about to make a fool of myself.

I needed air; I needed silence; I needed… I needed–

Kane’s hand tightened on my knee, and I lifted my gaze to meet his. The gesture was intended to be comforting. His thoughts told me as much. But it didn’t feel grounding or soothing. Instead, his touch reminded me that this was real. All of this was real . No matter how much I tried to fight this feeling or pretend everything was fine, it wasn’t. And somehow, that thought was scarier than the memories of the showcase that still haunted me.

As fat, hot tears rolled down my cheeks, I realized exactly what I needed—I needed to get out of there.

The heavy wooden legs of my chair squealed against the marble tiles as I got up much faster than I had in months. Blood whooshed to my ears, drowning out any startled sounds or pleas for me to sit down.

Going on instinct alone, I bolted away from the table. I’d never been to the Anastasakis mansion until today, which meant I didn’t know where a single thing was. But the front door was hard to miss. It was large, black, and flanked by floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows on either side.

I fumbled with the door handle, my fingers trembling so badly that they felt useless.

The pressure in my chest grew to be unbearable. I wasn’t breathing—I was failing to breathe. It was like the oxygen was too heavy to be pulled into my lungs.

My vision blurred as my limbs grew weak and unsteady, like they’d turned to Jell-O. I could feel myself slipping, my body begging me to just stop, to breathe, to relax.

But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I had to get outside. I had to get my phone out of my car and call my mom. Somehow, I just knew—if I could hear her voice, she’d make this better. She’d make it all feel better even if nothing actually changed. That’s what she always did. I wasn’t sure why, but my brain clung to that one thought, that one desperate hope. All I had to do was talk to my mom, and I’d be fine.

But as I gave the door handle one last desperate tug, the world around me started to spin. Everything around me blurred into a mess of colors—blues, blacks, reds, and golds. None of it made any sense, and as a warm tingle invaded my cheeks, I realized just how weak my knees felt.

They buckled, leaving me to fall forward as my body won the self-imposed war it had started with my mind. All I could think about was how I was going to fall on my face, how I might hit my stomach and hurt the last piece of Sulien I had left. But those thoughts vanished just as quickly as they came, and just as the world around me threatened to go black, a familiar voice hit my ears.

“Woah, woah, it’s okay, Princess, I’ve gotcha.”

Strong arms wrapped around my waist, stopping me before I could do any damage to myself or my unborn child, and something about the safety of that let my body know I was finally okay to shut down.

Consciousness returned to me slowly, one sense at a time. The first was smell—the sharp, unmistakable scent of antiseptic hit me like a truck.

Next was sound. Gentle beeps hit my ears as I struggled to open my eyes, but they felt impossibly heavy, like they’d been glued shut. Still, I pushed through, and after a moment, my vision finally returned.

The fluorescent lights above me were nearly blinding, causing me to cover my eyes with both hands. But no sooner had I done so than an arm gently appeared on my chest, pulling my hands back down to my sides.

“Take it easy, Princess.”

Jace’s voice was low, almost raspy. It wasn’t a tone I was used to hearing from him; it was too serious, too raw.

I blinked slowly, letting my eyes adjust to the sterile brightness before turning toward him. Normally, Jace was a well-put- together man despite his infuriating love of sarcasm. His job revolved around appearances, after all. But right now, he looked exhausted.

Dark circles clung to his pistachio-green eyes, making them seem brighter in contrast. Normally, that might have been enough to make me swoon a little, but all I could focus on was the rare absence of his signature shit-eating grin. His brows were knit together in a look of concern so palpable I could almost feel it.

“Your eyes are pretty,” I murmured, hoping to break the tension.

Unfortunately, all that did was make me painfully aware of how dry my mouth was.

Jace blinked twice, staring at me with an expression that screamed, Is she serious ? After a beat of silence, the corner of his lip twitched up—barely. He let out a short, disbelieving laugh as he shook his head.

“So, let me get this straight. You freak out, pass out, nearly hit the ground—and you would have if it weren’t for yours truly.” He gestured toward himself. “You scare the hell out of everyone, wake up in a hospital, and your first thought is about my eyes?”

I swallowed hard, hoping it would ease the dryness in my throat. It didn’t.

Jace rolled his eyes before grabbing a plastic cup off the nearby table.

“Open,” he ordered, bringing a straw to my lips.

I hesitated for only a second before obediently parting my lips. The water was ice cold and refreshing, and I greedily drank until the cup was empty.

When I pulled away, I realized Jace was touching me, and not in a sexual way either. His fingers lightly raked through my hair, the motion so soft I almost thought I’d imagined it. But when I looked up at him, his normal air of mischief was missing.

I tried to poke in his thoughts, but his mind was quiet. Not that his head was empty, his thoughts were just… distant, like trying to eavesdrop on a conversation in another room. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was too exhausted to pick up on them or because Jace was intentionally blocking me out. Either way, I didn’t like it.

“Where’s Kane?” I asked softly.

“Smoking and making a few phone calls… He’s pissed, by the way.”

My lips twitched into a frown as I sank deeper into the all-too-firm hospital pillow. “Because I upset his mom?”

“What?” Jace snorted. “No. Because you scared the hell out of him.”

His words made my chest tighten again. I blinked quickly, trying to stop the familiar burning sensation in my eyes. I bit my lip and turned my face away from him, but that only seemed to make it worse.

“Stop it.” Jace’s voice was sharp but not unkind.

“Stop what?”

“That.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees so his face was level with mine. “You’re spiraling. I can smell it.”

I jerked back, my brows knitting together. “What the hell do you mean you can smell it?”

“Your blood,” he said calmly. “You’re anxious, and I can smell it. Something about cortisol. I can’t remember exactly what Sul said being anxious did, but I’d smell it on him a lot.”

His words made me freeze. If he could smell that, what else could he smell? I’d known Jace was a hemomancer, but I’d never considered how that ability might translate into… this .

Jace ran a hand through his messy hair, glancing up at the ceiling as if collecting his thoughts. “If you work yourself up again, you’re going to go down again, and I’m not playing catch the Callie a second time.”

A pang of guilt mixed with something I couldn’t quite name washed over me. Apparently, the mystery feeling was anxiety. I despised the fact that Jace was the one to point it out to me.

“Hey, you’re not going to cry, are you?” His voice softened, losing its usual teasing edge.

I forced a watery laugh. “Maybe… pregnancy does that. Just don’t make it weird.”

Jace leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. A smug smirk played at the corner of his lips. “Oh, Princess. Weird is what I do.”

This time, my laugh was genuine.

But my smile faded as a memory hit me like a sucker punch.

The night before Sulien died, he’d fallen asleep with his cheek pressed against my stomach. His thoughts had been so tangled with excitement and fear that I couldn’t tell where one emotion ended and the other began.

The ache of his absence swelled in my chest, growing so large that it felt like I might choke on it.

“I miss him.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Jace didn’t pull away. Instead, he reached out and rested his hand on my shoulder.

“I miss him too.”

Those four words shattered me. The last frayed nerve holding me together snapped, and a sob clawed its way up my throat.

But Jace didn’t mock me. He didn’t tease me or make some inappropriate joke. Instead, he pulled me close —close enough that I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“You’re okay, Princess,” he murmured against the top of my head. “You’re okay.”

For a long while, I let myself cry, holding onto Jace like a child would their blanket.

But eventually, the door to my hospital room creaked open, and I tensed.

Kane stepped inside, his broad frame blocking most of the doorway. His umber gaze swept over me, his expression unreadable. He tried to smile, but it looked more like a snarling pit bull pretending to be soft.

“You’re up,” he said quietly, sinking into the chair next to Jace.

I swallowed hard as the scent of stale nicotine wafted off him.

“Jace said you were on the phone… Who did you call?” I asked softly.

Kane hesitated before pulling my phone out of his pocket and handing it to me.

“My mom… You scared everyone.”

His voice was tight, and for a moment, I thought he was going to scold me.

“Did you… Did you call my mom?” I asked.

Kane’s jaw clenched, his gaze dropping to the floor. After a long pause, he mumbled, “Yeah… She didn’t answer.”

But I didn’t believe him.