Chapter 67
DEEP DARK NIGHT
The moment I’m settled, Vincent gets pinged away for some urgent matter. Which leaves me in my room. Alone. Swimming in an uncomfortable, suffocating silence.
I’m still alive, though, so catastrophic mistakes avoided: thirty-four.
I’m curled up on the windowsill, legs snaking up the wall, trying not to feel the tremor that still rattles down my arms. I’d try to ignore the hammering of my heart, too, but it’s the only thing helping me keep time.
I flinch when the door creaks, but it’s only Colt.
He doesn’t crack a joke or kick the door shut like he’s trying to wake the dead.
He slips inside, lets the door lock behind him, then leans against it with his hands shoved in his pockets.
His eyes are tired, shaded in a way that makes him look older.
More worn. The badge at his hip catches the pale light, a painful reminder of what I have to do.
I decided this morning that this was the best way. The only way forward, actually. Since he won’t help me directly, this has to work.
It doesn’t make it any easier.
“You should be asleep,” he starts.
“So should you.”
That earns me the faintest smile. He pushes off the door and crosses the room in a few long strides, settling in a too-small upholstered chair a few feet from the window. The closeness makes me dizzy.
He blows out a breath. Runs a hand down his face. “Tomorrow’s gonna be hell.”
I try to laugh, but it comes out shaky. “That’s reassuring.”
“Not for you.” He tips his head toward me, eyes softening. “You’ll be just fine.”
I don’t want to believe him. His sleeve rides up when he reaches to ruffle his hair, exposing the still-red ring around his wrist. The welt carved into him like proof he belongs to this place just as much as I do.
“Does it hurt?” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer right away. When his eyes finally meet mine, they’re shining with painful honesty. “All the time.”
I bite down everything I want to say. I don’t know which is worse—that I hate him for making it look easy, or that I hate myself more for watching him hurt while being helpless to do anything about it.
I slide off the sill and into the seat beside him. His arm is hot where it brushes mine.
I find myself staring. Trying to memorize what he looks like in the fake moonlight.
“Mays…” He hesitates. Shakes his head. “Never mind.”
“No. Say it.”
His jaw works. “I don’t get to say much that’s mine. But if I don’t tell you tonight, I never will.”
My pulse stutters. “Tell me what?”
“That I’m glad to have met you.” He looks down at his hands, cheeks heating. “Even if it had to be in this place. I don’t regret it. I’ll never regret it.”
Oh. I knew tonight would be hard. But this? This is unbearable.
“Colt…”
He lifts his eyes to mine, that familiar caramel-brown gaze undoing me. “No matter what happens tomorrow or any day after that. This is real. Us. Right now. And I needed you to know that.”
My chest aches so sharply it’s hard to breathe. Tears well up in my eyes. He means it. He means every word of it, and I’m sitting here plotting something awful.
He stands, then hesitates. “Can I—” He gestures, awkward, and the awkwardness breaks me open.
“Yeah,” I say, already moving.
He envelops me in an embrace that nearly ends me on the spot.
The warmth of him is overwhelming. His chin rests on the top of my head, breath shaky against my hair.
He’s solid heat and muscle and the kind of safety that’s more dangerous than any flare.
He folds around me, and for a terrible moment, I think about not leaving at all.
About letting the program sharpen me down to an obedient, hollow shell if it means I get to stand here forever.
The thought dissipates, because that isn’t how it works.
Tomorrow, they’ll pry me away from him and send me blind into a world I don’t remember, another nightmare of their creation.
If I leave, I lose him. If I stay, I lose him and myself.
The choice shouldn’t be hard.
“Are you scared?” he asks, gentle.
“Yes.” The confession tastes bitter.
He pulls me closer. “Me too.”
The ache in my chest almost paralyzes me. I swallow down the guilt, the shame, the sickening urge to collapse into his arms and cry until he has to drag me to the stage tomorrow.
This is what I have to do.
I keep my left hand braced against his back, and with my right, I move slowly, sliding down until my fingers find the edge of his badge reel. The plastic is warm with his body heat. My thumb hooks under it. With a small nudge, the loop catches.
He shifts like he’s about to pull back. I hold tighter, burying my face in his chest. “Don’t go yet.” My voice cracks, real and weaponized at the same time.
His arms tighten around me. With a final flick, the badge slips free. It drops, silent, to the rug beneath us. I press my heel over it, pinning it to the floor. It burns, a culmination of guilt made physical.
Colt’s whole body stiffens for one terrifying second, then he goes slack, burying his face against my shoulder. His breath shakes against my skin. I wonder if this is the last moment of peace I’ll ever get.
“You know,” he says softly. “If I could, I’d take you out of here myself. Show you something real. Stars. A sky that moves because it wants to. Morning rain.”
The kind that makes you want to stay in bed.
The picture he paints nearly undoes me completely. My eyes sting, tears falling freely now.
“I’d like that,” I whisper.
He pulls back just enough to look at me. His hand comes up, rough thumb brushing my cheek. His voice catches. “Don’t forget me, okay? Wherever you end up.”
“Never,” I say. It’s not a lie.
We stay like that until the silence grows too thick. Finally, he draws back, eyes searching mine like he’s afraid of what he’ll find there. “I have to go.” He says, somber. “I’ll find you tomorrow, after the ceremony. Okay?”
The certainty of his words pierces my dwindling composure: tomorrow. The last word I ever wanted to hear from him.
“Promise?” My voice wavers.
“Promise.” His grin flickers in, tired but real. The kind that used to make me feel like the world wasn’t built to crush us. “Look left if you need me.”
The badge burns bright with shame under my foot. I swallow hard. “Left.”
My hands shake, but I force myself to let him go.
He squeezes my shoulders, warm brown eyes still locked on mine. A ragged breath escapes his lips. “Try to sleep.”
“You too.”
He laughs. “Yeah, right.” Then he’s gone.
I don’t move until I’m sure he won’t double back. Then I lift my foot, crouch, and slide the badge into my palm. It’s only plastic, but it feels heavy. That’s probably just my guilt talking.
My gold shoes wait under the bed. I grab one, peeling the insole back with careful fingers. Thankfully, the badge is a perfect fit. I press the lining down until the glue remembers how to glue. From the outside, it looks like nothing. Inside, it’s everything.
I tuck the shoes back into place, sit on the edge of the bed, and lace my fingers together to stop the tremor in them.
With my final objective done, I have nothing to do but sit here and hurt.
I would give anything to write him a note. A messy confessional of everything I couldn’t say. Thank you. I’m sorry. Please don’t hunt me down. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t forget me.
But there’s no paper here. Nor are there enough words in the world for me to possibly tell him everything I want to say.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper into the dark, knowing it will never be enough.