Chapter Seventeen #3
She took a deep breath and tried to stuff the emotions that were teetering on the edge of shattering her. She wasn’t going to cry again. Not yet. She would have a pleasant call with Christian first.
Her hand shook as she tapped her comm. She took a deep breath, then said, “Call Christian Holm.”
He answered on the third ring. “Hi, love.”
His voice was like a balm against her broken soul. She didn’t realize how much she’d needed to hear it.
“Hey,” she replied, her voice already cracking.
The squeak of a mattress. She was glad she hadn’t caught him out in the field.
“What happened? You all right?” he asked.
“Um . . .” She pressed the back of her shaky hand against her forehead. “Not really.” The words came out as a whisper.
Blast. So much for a pleasant call with Christian.
A pause, like he expected her to continue. But she couldn’t. If she opened her mouth again, the tears would fall.
He broke the silence. “Talk to me, love. I’m here.”
A single, strangled sob broke free. “There’s no cure.”
Christian inhaled sharply and swore. “Okay, well, it’s—we’ll figure it out, all right?”
“I don’t think we can. I touched her, the other me. She said it saw something in me, chose me. And I think—I think I chose it back. It called to me, Christian. And I could’ve fought harder, but I didn’t.”
“Okay, I’m not sure what you meant by another you, but I don’t agree. You didn’t choose to lose yourself.”
“But I think, in a way, I did. When we were in the temple the first time, I think I was so desperate for a way to stop the Dissent that my subconscious asked for it to help me. And that’s what the orb does. It responds to intent. Emotion.”
“Which is why you reacted the way you did in Zion.” He sighed as if understanding. “You were protecting me.”
“And the others. I didn’t want innocent people getting hurt because I’d failed to stop Colton.”
“You were not to blame for that.”
“I know, but the version of me then didn’t believe it.” Her voice cracked as she continued. “Which is why I can’t blame the Systems for seeing me as a threat.”
He swore again. “They already do, don’t they?”
She nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her, but the pause was answer enough for him.
Christian’s voice lowered. “You are not a threat.”
“But I am.”
“No, you’re not. You had a taste of power, and you hated every second of it.
Even now, when you’re hurting and scared, you’re worried about everyone else.
You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met, with a heart already too good for this world.
That’s how I know. And it’s why I love you the way I do. ”
Her breath hitched. “Say it again.”
“That I love you? With every fiber of my being. And the second I can get out of here, I will be right by your side.”
Tears slid down her cheeks, silent and hot. “I don’t know if I’ll still be me.”
“You will, because you’ve already survived what would’ve broken anyone else.”
She covered her mouth with her hand as another cry broke free.
Christian exhaled softly on the other end. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, calmer. But it trembled like it carried more than just words. “Gemma, listen to me. I know you’re scared. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t too. But fear doesn’t get the final word here. You do.”
She bit back another sob.
“You are not a monster. You are not broken. And you are not alone in this. Do you hear me? Not for one second. I don’t care what’s inside you, what’s changing, or what they say you’ve become. I’ve seen the worst this world has to offer, and I still choose you. I will always choose you.”
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as another sob released. She’d said those same words the night she’d bared her body and soul to him for the first time.
“Let them call you dangerous,” he continued. “Let them run. I’ll still be here, because I don’t see a weapon. I see the woman who saved me.”
“Christian—”
“No, I’m not done. You are the girl who gave me her rations when we were kids. The girl who ran into gunfire for strangers. The girl who fights to stay herself, even when her own mind tries tearing her apart. You think a little stardust in your veins could make me forget who you are?”
A whimper escaped her throat.
“I’ve bled for people who never gave a damn, but you? I’d stand between you and the entire Systems if I had to. Gladly. I love you. And not just the soft parts. I love all of it—the grief, the fury, the strength, the parts still healing. The parts that don’t know how.”
Her responding cry was loud. She didn’t wipe away the tears that fell.
“You’re going to come out of this. Changed, maybe. Scared, definitely. But still you. And when you do, when you’re standing in whatever version tomorrow brings, I’ll be right there beside you. Hands up, heart open, still choosing you.”
Silence stretched as several more sobs let loose from the cage she’d tried so hard to lock them in.
“I need you to believe that,” he whispered. “Even if everything else falls away, believe me when I say you’ll never be alone.”
She sniffled. “I do. I believe you.”
Christian exhaled like he could feel her heartbeat through the silence. “Good. Then hold on to that. No matter what comes next, you hold on.”
Gemma nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. “I wish you were here.”
“Stars, love, so do I.”
Another breath, soft and fractured. “I don’t know how to say goodbye.”
“Then don’t. This isn’t goodbye. This is ‘until.’ Until I’m there, until we figure this out, until your hands are in mine again.”
A beat of silence passed.
“Until next time, then?” she practically whispered.
“Absolutely. I love you, Gem.”
She swallowed hard. “I love you too.”
The call ended with a soft beep. Gemma covered her face with both of her hands and cried until she thought her ribs would break. Because the next time he saw her, she’d be in a cage.