Page 81 of Was I Ever Real
“Connor…” she rasps, her shaky hands trailing a path from my forehead, to my cheeks, ghosting over my mustache and then my lips. There’s a stream of tears on her cheeks and I use my thumbs to wipe them away. “You came,” she whispers.
A knife to the heart would have the same effect as the words she just uttered. Still holding her face in my hands, I take her in bit by bit. It hurts too much to take her in all at once.
They shaved her head.
I can’t even fathom the manner in which it happened. It accentuates her features, her eyes wide and pained. The dark circles under her eyes, evidence of her exhaustion. All she has on is this thin, white dress that barely covers her body. I’ve never seen her this vulnerable.
Cracked open.
The guilt of leaving her here, even for one fucking second, leaves me hollowed out.
Undeserving.
With it, the overwhelming need to keep her safe is staggering. The weight of it reminiscent of Atlas banished and enslaved to hold up the earth on his shoulders for the rest of eternity. The difference is… for her? I’d do it willingly.
I kiss her softly. Needing to taste, touch—anything, to remind me this is real, that she’s back in my arms, however fragile she may look.
“My darling, I will always come for you,” I say, my lowered voice choking up.
A small sob tumbles out of her mouth, her body slightly slumping towards me and I feel gutted. My insides spilling out at her feet. Then I see her wince again, and my rage barrels back tenfold. My hands trail down her shoulders, holding her steady.
“What did they do to you?” I say through gritted teeth.
I watch her eyes glaze over, like she can’t bear to relive what I’m asking her to recount. Then I track her hand moving over her thigh up to her hip, hovering but never touching.
More tears spill over her face, down her neck and I’ve never felt so powerless.
“My brother…” she says softly, her voice devoid of emotions. “I couldn’t breathe. I was drowning… and then I felt it… it…” she trails off, stumbling over her words. “It burned so badly.”
I somehow manage to piece together what she’s trying to tell me. And when I do, all logic fades. I have to fight the urge to stalk out of the room and kill every living soul I cross paths with who let this happen to her.
“He branded you?” I hiss, unable to process—only seethe.
Somehow, me saying it out loud snaps her out of the daze she had fallen into. Her eyes clear as she looks at me with hard intent and nods.
She moves to stand and at first, I try to keep her sitting, but she gives me a look that tells me the Lenix I know is not lost underneath the distress written on her face.
Still, she allows me to help her stand up, her knees slightly buckling under her weight.
She steadies herself, shoulders straightening. Just that small movement makes my chest squeeze—I’m in awe of her strength.
I crave to pull her into my arms, hold her and never let go but I take a deep breath instead. Smoothing my hand over my face, I try to regain some semblance of composure when I see her eyes flit to my bloody knuckles.
“How did you know what building I was in?” she asks with innocent curiosity.
“We intercepted the guards at the gate.” I hold out my hand in front of me as if this is the first time noticing how mangled it is. “You'll be surprised how quickly people cower when faced with their own mortality.”
“We?”
“Sin Eaters. We have the place surrounded.”
Lenix’s expression is a complexity of feelings. “My sister.”
“We’ll get her out, I promise.” Hoping my assured tone will soothe her somewhat.
She nods, her eyes still vacant. “What time is it?”
For a second I find her question strange until I realize there are no windows in this place and I get incensed all over again.