Page 40

JACE

T he world feels quieter out here. That should feel good, but it feels wrong.

I hear paws padding along the asphalt behind me before I see her. Luna appears at my side, her intelligent eyes watching me with that unnerving perception dogs have.

“No,” I tell her, then point back toward camp. “Go back to Autumn.”

She sits, stubborn as her purple-haired owner, and tilts her head at me.

“I said go.” My voice comes out harsher than intended. “She needs you. Not me.”

Can’t anyone see? I don’t need anyone.

Luna lets out a soft whine, but she doesn’t move. I take a step toward her to make myself bigger and more threatening. “Go!”

Finally, she turns and trots back toward the others. She casts one last look over her shoulder at me before she disappears.

Good.

One less thing to worry about. One less life depending on me .

Away from camp, from Caspian’s teasing smirks, and Mars’s easy laughter.

Away from her. From Autumn, and the way she looks at me like she sees everything I’m trying to keep buried. Like she’s waiting for me to give her something I don’t know how to give.

I should stay at camp. Work out, stand watch, find another broken-down car to pretend to fix and then destroy in a fit of emotional turmoil. Do anything but this.

But I can’t. I need the space and the silence. Those are the only two things I can never let down.

I move through the outskirts of the ruins. My boots crunch through loose gravel and debris as I check the perimeter. At least, that’s what I tell myself. Scout. Keep them safe. Stay distant. That’s the only way.

Like distance ever saved anyone.

The memory crashes into me. Malcolm’s face through the flames. My foster father, the only person who’d ever given a damn about me, trapped in that storage shed while Eugene held me back.

Malcolm and I survived the dead rising together, found that colony, and thought we’d be safe. Turned out, Eugene didn’t tolerate divided loyalties.

All because I’d shared my rations with Malcolm instead of giving them to Eugene’s towering stockpile. Such a small thing. Such a stupid, small thing.

I can still hear Eugene’s voice afterward. “This is what happens when you put anyone before me. Remember that. I’ll do this to everyone you ever care about if you betray me again.”

The smell of smoke and Malcolm’s screams still haunt me after all this time. I can almost still feel how raw my throat was from shouting. That’s why I never bothered to help anyone other than myself after. I became the cold, emotionless soldier he wanted .

My distance will save her, though. I refuse to let Autumn meet the same fate as the only other person I’ve ever cared about.

Logically, I’m being an idiot, but better safe than sorry.

I don’t want to think about what I’ll do if I get too close, only to lose her.

Still, I can’t stop thinking about her. The kindness she’s shown me, even when I didn’t deserve it.

Her outright stubbornness and refusal to give up on others, even when she should, even when she’s drowning in her own shit.

The way her body moved when I touched her.

Fuck it. I’m about to turn back when I catch movement from the corner of my eye. At first, I don’t even care, but then the light shifts, and I see the streak of color.

I creep closer. Every muscle in my body is taut and sweat beads along my spine. The rotter drags one foot behind it and moans low in its throat. Its face is smeared with grime and blood, but I can still make out the faint curve of its jaw and the sharp line of its cheekbone.

A face I’d seen so many times. One that haunts my every waking moment. I move closer and the rotter turns toward me. I see the ink marked into its flesh.

My knees give out. I choke on a breath as I stumble backward. My chest squeezes tighter with every heartbeat. The world tilts, and I have to brace myself against a wall to keep from collapsing entirely.

No. Please, no.

The rotter lurches toward me with its teeth bared and arms outstretched.

I snap out of the fog long enough to slam it back against an adjacent wall, where I pin its decaying body there with a long rod through the sternum, trapping it in place.

Its arms flail and it reaches for me, but I keep it pinned. I can’t move. Can’t breathe.

Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe I’m imagining things.

I pull my water bottle and my shirt from my back pocket and wet the fabric before wiping the dirt and grime from the rotter’s face, but that only confirms my worst fear.

The hair is matted with blood, and the normally bright eyes are milky and vacant.

The memory of Malcolm’s body flashes before me. I’m torn apart, alone, because I’d left him. I’d let him down.

The pattern repeats. The cycle of my failures continues, painted in blood and rot.

The wall inside me crumbles. For the first time in so long, I fall to my knees.

My hands shake. My breath tears out of me in ragged sobs I can’t hold back. My face crumples, and I press my forehead to the dirt, like I’m drowning or praying.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. My voice comes out shredded. “I’m so sorry.”

She must have come after me, but found trouble she couldn’t fight off. She never should have come after me. I never should have left.

My tears water the dirt. The sobs rack my body. Years of bottled grief pouring out all at once. “I should have been there. I should never have closed the door.”

There are so many things I should have done differently, but now it’s too late.

My chest feels like it’s caving in, like my ribs are crushing inward under the pressure of this failure. I can’t breathe past the concrete block lodged in my throat.

Everything hurts. My lungs burn, my eyes sting, and my heart feels like it’s being torn from my chest with rusty pliers.

I failed Malcolm, and the pattern continues.

Everyone I try to protect ends up dead.

I kneel there for a long time, listening to the rasping groan of the rotter in front of me. One I can’t kill.

Because it’s Autumn, and that’s all that’s left of her.

I don’t know how I make it back, but somehow I do.

The world blurs at the edges. Colors slash across my vision.

Sounds knife straight through my skull. My hands shake.

My heart feels like a raw wound that I can’t rip out, and not for a lack of trying.

I can’t stop seeing her face twisted with rot, the purple in her hair dulled beneath dirt and blood when it should be alive and vibrant as she is… or was.

I’m barely holding it together when I stagger back into camp.

The first person I see is Caspian. He’s leaning against a tree, staring off into the distance with that faraway look he gets.

That guy was always a dreamer, but now I’m about to give him one hell of a nightmare.

He’s going to be crushed. He was getting so close to her.

Lucky bastard. At least he wasn’t a dick and didn’t hold back like I did. At least he made better use of his time while she was still here. He’ll never have to experience the level of regret I’m living through right now.

“She’s gone,” I rasp out when I come to stand in front of him.

Caspian’s pale eyes snap to mine and his brow furrows. “What?”

“She’s gone.” The words burn coming out. It would be easier to swallow shards of glass. I hate him for making me repeat it. My throat is like sandpaper. “I found a rotter. Purple hair. Gemini tattoo on the wrist. Same fucking hazel eyes.”

For the first time since I’ve known him, I see genuine shock ripple across Caspian’s face. His mouth opens, then closes, but then his gaze shifts past me and something strange passes over his features. “Jace…”

I turn around to see what he’s looking at, and there she is. Autumn. Alive and laughing .

She’s sitting near the fire with Mars. She throws her head back while he gestures wildly with his hands, his skin glistening with sweat with each movement.

He’s probably midstory about his special ops days.

One of the more comedic ones, like when he accidentally blew up the wrong building or something equally ridiculous.

I never listened to his stories, but I’m sure she would find them charming.

His grin is as cocky as ever, but it’s the look on her face that locks me in place. She’s relaxed. Happy. The firelight dances across her face, highlighting the purple streaks in her hair. It’s vibrant and alive, not matted with blood and decay.

Luna is curled at her feet with her tail thumping against the ground on occasion when Autumn’s hand drops to scratch behind Luna’s ears.

There isn’t a single sign of decay in sight. She’s whole. Safe. Alive. Not rotting in some forgotten part of the city’s outskirts.

I can’t move. The relief crashes into me so hard my knees nearly buckle again, but right behind it comes the shame. The guilt. The raw, unrelenting ache.

Because I believed she was gone.

Because I know I pushed her so far away, she could have been.

And because she’s smiling now. Not at me. Not because of me. But I don’t give a shit.

She’s alive.

And that’s all that matters.

I didn’t break her.