Chapter 30
I thought the grief would eventually fade like Leda had said, but instead, I woke up still heartbroken and burning with rage.
Anger crackled under my skin like lightning, burning me from the inside out.
But even worse, I was angry at Trey. Suddenly, the beautiful stories that people told me about Trey grated on my fragile sanity.
I avoided talking to anyone as much as possible because I didn’t want to hear about how Trey had stayed up all night helping somebody patch a leaking roof or how he’d taken on extra work to help people who were sick.
Everyone had a story about Trey, and each one made me angrier.
The guilt ate me alive. What kind of person did that make me?
How could I be angry at the person who died because of me?
If anybody knew I felt this way, they’d probably be horrified.
Somehow a couple of months passed. The ground thawed during the day but still froze at night.
Mud coated everything, sucking at my boots and reminding me far too much of when I’d jumped in the pit to fight Brimstone.
I wished I could fight someone like that again.
Maybe it would release some of the fury that crackled in the back of my mind like radio static.
I waited for the Shadow to come for me. Dared him to. Maybe my rage would burn us both alive.
But he never did.
I returned to the clinic alone one night, covered in no small amount of blood from helping a woman give birth to twins.
The babies seemed to be strong and healthy, letting out ear-piercing wails after I patted their backs.
Still, on my way back to the clinic, a storm grew heavier and heavier in my chest. I couldn’t shake the horrible, selfish thought that seeing new life brought into the world only reminded me of the life I’d had ripped away from me.
I swore under my breath. What kind of person hated innocent babies simply for being born?
You’re a good person, Bones.
If Trey could see me right now, I doubted he’d say that with such certainty.
I halted, staring at the path that led toward the cemetery.
I passed it every night, pretending not to see it, but for some reason, I couldn’t walk past it now.
My feet slowly took me down the path, that empty hole in my chest aching worse with every step.
It took me a while to find Trey’s grave as I squinted in the moonlight at the names carved in the simple wooden markers.
When I finally found it, reading his name hurt worse than I expected.
I sank to my knees at the side of his grave, the cold damp mud seeping into my pants.
Despite having watched a bullet go through his head, despite being painfully aware of his absence every second, apparently a stupid part of my mind hadn’t actually believed it until now.
Now seeing him reduced to a plain grave marker reading “Trey Mason,” that last tiny shred of delusional hope shriveled away. Trey was never coming back.
I hated him for leaving. I hated that he would probably see his death as a noble sacrifice or some shit.
I hated him for charming me with his kindness and for breaking down my defenses.
I hated him for making me fall in love with him and then fucking leaving me here alone.
What the fuck was I supposed to do now? I leaned forward and dug both my hands into the ground.
Dirt was all that was left of him. I clenched handfuls of it, fighting the urge to fling it at the marker bearing his name.
I knelt there for a long time, shivering and burning with anger as I gripped handfuls of freezing soil. I jerked when someone crouched beside me, and I looked up to see Mac. He still wore his tactical gear, so he must have just returned from his latest mission.
“C’mon, Bones,” he murmured. “Let’s go home.”
Pulling me to my feet, he tucked me against his side. He was taller than Trey, I noted flatly. Dirt caked my hands and knees, and blood coated my clothes. He noticed the blood and frowned.
“That’s not your blood, is it?” he asked, a slight edge to his voice.
“No,” I said. “Miss Hatch had her babies.”
“Babies?” he repeated with surprise.
“Twins.”
“Everybody healthy?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled.
We didn’t speak for the rest of the walk. We entered the clinic and found it empty but warm, the fire roaring in the woodstove. I wished it could thaw the cold that had settled into my very bones. I went to the sink and washed the dirt off my hands.
“Bones, how can I help?”
I looked at where Mac stood by the exam table. In the dim light, his scar seemed like a grim slash across his cheek. His eyes glittered but with something softer than his usual fire. He ran a hand through his black hair, then shoved both hands in his pockets and shifted on his feet.
“Please,” he added even quieter. “I want to help.”
“Help with what?” I asked hoarsely.
“With you.” He pinned me in place with those intense eyes.
I turned the water off and reached for a towel, my eyes and the anger in my chest both burning. “I don’t need—”
“Don’t.” He strode to my side and grabbed my shoulders. “Don’t do that. Don’t say you’re fine and that you don’t need help. I know that’s not true.”
I tried to jerk away half-heartedly, but he didn’t release me. “What the fuck do you want me to say?”
“I dunno, but I want to be there for you. If Trey could see you right now, he’d kick my ass.”
“Well, he’s dead, so you don’t need to worry about that,” I said, my rage sharpening.
“Bones,” he said, a hint of anger entering his voice, “I’m not only doing this for Trey, okay?”
“Mac, I want to be alone right now.” This time when I jerked away, he let me go. My temper hung by a thread.
“It’s me.” He calmed his voice, but his eyes snapped with sparks. “You can let it out. I can take it.”
I heard the echo of him saying the same thing in that horrible cell below the watchtower when I was coming apart. It made my throat ache, but I couldn’t come apart again. If I did, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to pull myself back together.
“Let what out?” I snapped.
“All the shit that’s fuckin’ eating you alive,” he snapped back.
I glared at him, my jaw clenched, and he glared back at me. For a long time, we simply stood there as I desperately tried to hold it together.
“Why’d you go to the cemetery tonight?” he asked.
I shrugged and looked at the door, hoping he’d get the message.
“I was there, too. I heard what Trey said.”
My gaze swung back to him, panic and pain smashing through my self-control. “Don’t,” I said.
“He told you to let them in. He was talking about us, wasn’t he?”
My fists clenched so hard that my nails bit into my palms, and his jaw flexed. I had the sudden image of both of us teetering on the edge of a cliff.
His voice came out harsh and rough. “You think I don’t have to watch him die every night in my dreams? You think I don’t hear you screaming when you couldn’t heal him? You think any of this is fuckin’ easy—”
“I hate him, is that what you want to hear?” The words spewed out of me.
“I hate him. I didn’t go lookin’ for this!
I was fuckin’ fine by myself, but he couldn’t leave me be.
He had to get in my head and fill it with all this shit about a better world.
He made me fall in love with him and then he fuckin’ left me here alone.
And I know it wasn’t his fault, I know he didn’t choose this.
I know he was murdered and it was my fault it happened.
I know I’m a piece of shit for feeling this way, but I’m so fuckin’ angry. ”
I broke off, breathing hard, furious tears filling my eyes. Mac hadn’t moved from where he stood tensely an arm’s distance away. The silence roared in my ears.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Mac finally said.
I stared at him, fury running hot. “Are you fuckin’ serious?”
“It wasn’t your fault,” he repeated, his gaze fixed on me.
“It never would’ve happened if I hadn’t let him come with me!” I cried, throwing my arms out in frustrated disbelief.
“You think you let him?” Mac’s voice rose. “He was dead set on going. You might be stubborn, but Trey was worse, especially when it came to you.”
The anger howled freely through me now. “Stop it! You know it’s my fault, so don’t you dare fuckin’ lie to me to try and make me feel better!” I shoved his chest. I might as well have tried to shove the watchtower over. He didn’t move an inch.
“I’m not lying, Bones.” His voice sounded rough with emotion but frighteningly honest. “It’s not your fault.”
“Stop!” I shoved him again, putting more weight into it.
He still didn’t move, but he caught my shoulders.
“I’m angry, too,” he snarled. “I’m angry at myself for not joinin’ the rebellion earlier, for not helpin’ Trey make this place better before it killed him.
I’m angry at Madame. I’m angry at Nemo, but you wanna know why I’m angry at you?
It’s ’cause you’re closing yourself off to everyone, pushin’ all of us away like you’re the only one who loved him! ”
“I’m not tryin’ to push you away!” Tears started rolling down my face. “I just don’t have anythin’ left!”
He stared at me for a few breaths, something softening in the angry lines of his face. “What do you mean?”
“I’m—” Gods, now that the tears had started, I couldn’t get them to stop. “I’m empty. I can’t…I can’t bend this time. Madame won. She didn’t break me, she d-destroyed me, and there’s nothin’ left.”
He stood there holding my shoulders and studying my face as I tried to rein in my hiccupy gasps.
“He was p-puttin’ me back together,” I whispered. “And now I’m broken like Madame.”
“What do you mean broken like Madame?” he asked.
“Trey said she wasn’t as bad before Viper died,” I whispered. “He said when Viper died it was like it broke somethin’ in her. And that’s how I feel. Half the time I don’t feel anything at all.”