Chapter 26
I woke up with a manacle on my ankle, chained up inside the clinic like a damn dog. I sat up, my head aching.
“Well, look who’s up.”
I glanced over to see Vulture sitting in one of the chairs, watching me. He had a dark bruise under his eye. It matched the stabbing pain in my right hand from punching him. A brief flame of that rage flickered in my chest before it died under the crushing weight of grief.
“Me and my men are in charge of the clinic now,” Vulture continued, devoid of emotion. “So don’t try anythin’ stupid, Angel.”
I lay back down on my mattress, turning my back to him.
Every breath felt like agony, worse than when my lung had collapsed.
I knew I wasn’t physically hurt. I’d felt this same pain after Dune died, like a literal piece of my heart had been torn from my chest. There was no cure for this pain, nothing to be done to ease it.
I wished it could kill me.
—
I watched the sunlight dim through the loft windows.
One of Vulture’s men entered the clinic with dinner rations, setting mine near my mattress.
I didn’t move or acknowledge it. The rest of his men filed in as night fell, six in total, counting Vulture.
They weren’t Reapers and they weren’t from the Vault.
They brought in chairs and drank and laughed and told crude jokes and played cards.
I sensed them looking at me every so often, but no one spoke to me.
Vulture stayed separate from his men, staring silently from the chair by the door.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the blood spray from the bullet going through Trey’s skull.
Gods, I wished she’d shot me instead.
Why hadn’t I done something? I should’ve fought, I should’ve thought faster, lied my ass off about knowing shit about the rebellion, anything.
“Bones, please let me in.”
“I don’t know how much time we have, but I do know I don’t want to miss a single second of lovin’ you.”
“You don’t have to be strong all the time. You can lean on me.”
I stared ahead, tears streaming from my eyes. I let him in. I loved him. And I lost him.
—
A hand grabbed my shoulder and rolled me over. I stared through swollen eyes at Vulture glaring down at me. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted to me, and no one would stop him, but I couldn’t find the energy to care.
“Eat your food,” he snapped.
I jerked away from him, rolling back over.
“Angel!”
I waited for him to grab me again, but he didn’t.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doin’?”
I didn’t care.
“I’m watchin’ you. Don’t forget that.”
I heard him walk back over to the door and sit where Trey used to sit. I would never be able to glance at that chair and see Trey brightening the whole room with that sunshine smile again.
The pain in my chest crushed my lungs. I understood why they called it heartbreak. My heart had fractured into tiny pieces and every single one of them hurt like hell. Worse than when Juck had branded me, worse than Brimstone snapping my arm, worse than when Sax whipped the skin off my back.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
—
“I love you, Bones.”
The gunshot cracked like thunder and I screamed—
I came awake with a choked cry, heart slamming so hard it hurt, the echo of the gunshot still ringing in my ears. The dark clinic swam into focus, and for one fragile second, I thought maybe all of it had been a nightmare. Maybe Trey was about to—
A shadow loomed over me.
“Shut up, Angel,” Vulture growled.
Cold reality snapped back in. I rolled away, curled into a ball, and stuffed the blanket into my mouth to smother the sound tearing out of me.
My body shook uncontrollably, breath hitching and stuttering.
After a minute, I heard him walk back to the chair.
The scrape of it against the floor made me flinch. I squeezed my eyes shut again.
You’re a river. You don’t break, you bend.
Mac’s comforting words rang hollow now. I couldn’t find a way to bend this time, because I hadn’t broken.
I’d shattered.
—
I felt a tug on the chain connected to the manacle, and I opened my eyes to see daylight streaming in the windows. I moved my head enough to see Vulture standing at the foot of my mattress with a woman holding a bloodied rag to her head.
“Time to get to work,” Vulture ordered.
I got up, washed my hands, and performed the necessary steps to stitch up the woman’s head in a numb haze broken only by the sound of the chain clanking along behind me.
The injured woman perched on the exam chair, watching me with wide eyes.
She looked familiar, and I knew if I thought about it, I’d remember her name, but I couldn’t summon the energy or the desire to try.
As I cleaned the wound, she made a soft sound that had me glancing down to her face out of habit.
Her wide eyes, glimmering with tears, met mine.
“I’m so sorry, Bones,” she whispered.
I kept working, trying to shove those kind words deep down where I couldn’t think about them, but they festered like an infected splinter.
She didn’t try to speak to me again, but right before I finished, she managed to catch my hand and squeeze it for such a brief moment that I almost thought I’d imagined it.
After she left, I cleaned up my workspace until Vulture cleared his throat.
I glanced over at where he stood near the door, leaning against the wall.
He nodded toward my mattress, where my breakfast ration sat on the floor.
I finished sterilizing my tools, washed my hands, and curled up on my mattress again without touching it.
Most people who came in to be healed were grave and quiet.
Their eyes flickered between me and Vulture.
Some of them murmured condolences that burned into my skin like the brand on my chest. I didn’t respond to them, but they didn’t seem upset by it.
Madame’s guards, on the other hand, came in grinning and laughing.
I almost refused to heal the few who walked in with injuries, but that tiny lick of fire flickered out again before I could do anything with it.
So I did my job and ignored the cruel comments they threw at me.
I knew they wanted to get a reaction, and I hadn’t spent twelve years being taunted by the Reapers for nothing.
I refused my dinner ration again. Vulture glared at me, his dark eyes glittering, but he didn’t say anything.
Twice a day Vulture let me off the chain to use the outhouse.
I moved through the days like a dead person walking.
Nothing seemed real. People continued to come in for healing, but I didn’t see any of Mac’s crew.
I wasn’t sure if they’d been forbidden to come or if they simply couldn’t stand to see me.
If they hated me now, I couldn’t blame them.
Trey had been their family, and because of me, he was dead.
Every night I woke up screaming, Trey’s bloody face etched on the back of my eyelids, and every night Vulture snarled at me to shut up, so I did. I kept waiting for him to do something to me, to get his revenge for my betrayal, but he didn’t. Maybe Madame had told him not to touch me.
—
Vulture let me go almost four days without eating before he jerked me upright one evening.
The sudden movement made black spots crowd my vision.
He leaned in from where he crouched beside my mattress, close enough that I could smell him—metal and smoke.
“You’re not allowed to starve yourself to death, Angel,” he snarled, dropping a plate in my lap.
“You keep this up and I’ll put a fucking tube down your throat and force-feed you. ”
I stared at the plate in my lap and made myself pick up some of the food and take a bite.
I didn’t taste it at all, just chewed and swallowed out of habit.
Vulture stayed where he crouched, watching, eyes tracking every swallow.
The attention made my skin crawl. It wasn’t concern or satisfaction. It was something sharper than either.
We’d been something like friends once.
When I first snuck into his tent and dropped to my knees in front of him, his eyes had widened with surprise, but he hadn’t hesitated. He’d never pretended not to understand what I was offering, or why.
He knew the means to power and control were a dangerous game. He’d just always believed he knew how to play it better than anyone else.
His earlier words at the dam echoed through my head. “Which part are you sorry for? For all the lies or for leavin’ me to die?”
I would never forget that moment when I left him for dead. The way he’d looked at me—hurt and furious and something else I didn’t have a name for. I’d hesitated then, shaken by his reaction.
But even if he’d meant something to me once, I’d never loved him. Vulture had always wanted something from me.
Trey only ever wanted me.
Dead, empty brown eyes flashed through my mind, and I dropped the rest of the food back onto the plate, feeling sick. No, anything I’d ever felt for Vulture was as dead as the man I loved. Maybe he didn’t pull the trigger, but he killed Trey just as much as Madame did.
As much as you did, a small voice whispered, and bile rose in my throat.
I shoved the plate away from me, covering my mouth and breathing in through my nose like Sam had taught me. Vulture stared hard at me for a moment, but then he took it away and returned to his post by the door.
After that, I ate only enough to keep Vulture off my back.
I slept most of the time, though the gaping hole in the side of Trey’s head haunted me.
I woke up screaming more often than not, but being awake was worse than being asleep.
At least when I slept, sometimes it was dreamless.
Being awake was one long, unending nightmare I knew I would never wake up from.
So I stayed on my mattress, chasing that escape of nothingness.
I got better at waking up with my jaw clenched tight so I didn’t scream.
The people of the Vault who came in for healing kept whispering concerned questions, but I still didn’t answer them.
Maybe I couldn’t. I rarely spoke at all and, despite sleeping most of the time, the exhaustion never eased.
I wondered where the kids had gone, but I didn’t ask. They were probably dead too.
—
Six days after Trey’s death, Lem showed up at the door and announced that Madame had summoned me.
We went down the stairs to the dungeon torture room and stepped through the door to see Nemo sitting in the chair again. He looked thin, and his pale face was covered in dark bruises. Madame stood in front of him and gestured to him with her clean knife when I entered.
“Get him back to full health,” Madame ordered like nothing had happened, like she hadn’t put a gun to Trey’s head and killed him.
I didn’t move.
“Bones,” Madame ordered.
“No.” The word came out hoarse, but it came out.
The temperature of the room seemed to plummet. Everyone stared at me, Nemo included. I met his pained eyes for a second.
“What did you say?” Madame asked coldly.
“I said no,” I said louder.
Madame stared hard at me for a moment before looking at her men. “Looks like Bones needs another reminder.”
Lem stepped forward, grinning. His first blow knocked me flat on my back. I didn’t even bother trying to get up. Lem hauled me up anyway so he could put a fist in my gut. I doubled over wheezing.
“You ready to heal him now, Bones?” Madame asked, sharp as broken glass.
“No,” I rasped out.
After the third time I refused, a part of me seemed to snap. I was on my hands and knees in the dirty hay, watching a string of blood drip from my mouth to the floor, when I started laughing. The entire room went still. I pushed myself up onto my knees, grinning around a mouthful of blood.
“Something funny, Bones?” Madame asked, her voice almost shrill.
“Fuck you,” I said, still grinning like a maniac. “I’m not doing shit for you anymore.” I pointed a finger at her, steady despite the pain. “You better fuckin’ pray you never get hurt or sick ever again, ’cause if you do, I’m watchin’ you die.”
Fury and maybe a little bit of fear flashed in her eyes, and she gave Sax a sharp order to take over from Lem.
Sax looked unnerved as I knelt there smiling up at him with blood dribbling down my chin.
Maybe it was his idea of mercy, or maybe he just didn’t like it when people weren’t scared of him, but his first blow hit me hard in the temple and knocked me right out.