“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”
“Then I guess you’re an idiot.”
He growls. Then, with a blur of motion, he grabs the windslicer from his belt and launches it at Audra. I lunge and slash it. The sword explodes, peppering the ground with tiny needles.
“I can do this all day,” I warn him, tossing my spike between my hands.
His eyes narrow. “Fine. I give you my word.”
“Not good enough. If you want a deal, you’ll let me launch her safely out of here in a pipeline and then I’ll turn myself in.”
“No,” Audra shouts. She fumbles, trying to get up. Trying to stop me.
I move away from her. Closer to the Stormer, careful to keep the spike trained on him.
“Do you think you intimidate me?” he asks. “You forget, I’ve watched your kind let us torture their wives—their kids—and do absolutely nothing to stop us. You’re gutless weaklings by nature. Nothing changes that.”
He stares me down. Daring me to prove him wrong—knowing I won’t. Can’t. It’s all a game to him. And I’m tired of playing.
I raise my spike, aiming it between his eyes. “Let. Audra. Go.”
My hands shake. My voice shakes. But I mean it.
“I’m done with this!” he yells.
His body’s a blur, his next words a mystery, but I know whatever he’s doing is going to kill Audra. Break me so I’ll have no fight left to resist him.
I watch my arm swing back, almost like it’s attached to someone else. It’s easier to think of it that way.
It’s someone else aiming the weapon at his heart. Someone else letting it fly at just the right point in the toss. Someone else running him through with a revolting squish of flesh and blood.
Someone else.
But it’s me who screams. Me who collapses, shaking. Me who can’t get the question out of my head—the one I don’t want to know the answer to, but have to ask anyway.
What have I done?
CHAPTER 54
AUDRA
I scream as I claw my way to Vane’s side. It all happened so fast, I couldn’t tell who fell first, or why.
He’s not dead. He can’t be dead. Please. Be. Alive.
My hands reach him then, and he’s still warm. He’s curled up on his side, shaking. But he’s alive.
Tears fill my eyes as I search his face, his chest—everywhere—for blood, a wound. He’s perfect. No injuries.
Then I see the Stormer.
The twisted wind spike sticks out of his chest at a jagged angle. Thick, syrupy blood streams in rivers as parts of the wound disintegrate and float away with the wind. His eyes are glazed. His mouth twisted in a snarl. Cruel even in death.
My stomach heaves.
Vane groans.
It hits me then. Vane did this.
A Westerly did this.
I pull him closer, whispering, “Shhhhh.” Trying to calm him.
He shivers harder, his teeth chattering. I wrap my arms around him and press as much of myself against him as I can to warm him. Fire shoots between us, and his eyes clear enough to meet mine.
He shatters into sobs. Low, deep wails of pain and terror.
I pull his head against my shoulder. Stroke his hair. Cling as tight as I can, afraid if I let go he’ll crumble into a million pieces and never put them back together.
The storms slowly calm and the clouds clear, bringing back the sun. Normal winds surround us, singing of hope and relief. But Vane still feels like ice.
How long can he stay like this?
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He groans into my chest.
“I mean it, Vane. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He shakes his head, and the motion rocks his whole body. I squeeze him tighter.
I can’t imagine what he must be feeling. I’ve never killed anyone—and I’m not a Westerly.
I have to say something. Help him. But what magical combination of words will make him okay again? Bring back the funny, obnoxious boy I’ve grown to love?
Love.
I haven’t let myself love anyone—not since my father died.
But I love Vane Weston. And I won’t lose him. I can’t. I won’t be able to survive it.
I try to make him look at me, but his eyes are distant. Lost.
“You saved us, Vane. You made the greatest, most wonderful sacrifice anyone has ever made. You saved me.”
My voice leaves me. I’m overwhelmed by what he did for me. By his proximity. By everything.
He doesn’t move. His eyes stay glazed.
My stomach knots as I realize what he needs. I’m afraid to say it, but I take his shaking hands and coil our fingers together.
He has to be Vane again.
“I love you,” I whisper.
Something pulls in my chest as the words leave my lips, but they taste sweet.
True.
“I’ve tried so hard not to love you that I’ve driven us both crazy. But I love you. And I don’t want to lose you. So please come back to me. Please don’t leave me.”
My voice hitches and I choke back a sob. “I need you. I’ve never needed anyone—but I need you.”
I stroke his face as my words trail to silence.
Silence.