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MARA

“ I don’t even know what to say.” Edith’s face was a combination of shock, horror, and disapproval.

“Well, that’s a first,” I snarked.

She cocked a brow at me for half a second before pressing on. “You have to tell Wes the truth. He needs to know what happened in Telvia, why you left us behind.”

“I don’t even know what to say to him. How do I explain to him everything I’ve done?

” My chest tightened at the thought. Coming clean to Wes felt like an impossible task, but I knew he deserved it from me.

He deserved me telling him the truth from start to finish.

Everything. But the fear that he would reject me—be too hurt by my schemes to ever forgive me—scared me more than spending another night in the pit.

“Look, I’m not going to say that you handled all of it the right way. In fact, one of these days, I’m going to seek vengeance on you for leaving me with three guys in the middle of a war zone.”

“I know,” I moaned. “I’m sorry— ”

“Oh, not yet you’re not,” she cut me off.

“You don’t get it. You have no idea what it was like to deal with three dudes who have just been woken up from being stunned.

It was all like”—her voice changed, high-pitched and whiny-sounding—“‘ Ow, my head hurts, my ass hurts, the bitch shot me. I’m a big ass baby…where’s my mommy ?

’ Ugh!” She groaned. “I almost shot them all over again just to get them to shut up.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Like hell it was! This was like a dude with a man-cold on steroids. And , there were three of them! Three. And you left them all with me and no backup. Jesus …” she groused, shaking out her whole body.

“You owe me big , Mara, I swear. I should be murdering you right now. You know that, right? Like I should stab you for what you did to me,” she ranted.

I grimaced. “Look, I said I was sorry.” I could hear the edge in my voice— attitude . “I’m a terrible person—”

She wagged her pointed finger at me. “ Terrible isn’t even the beginning of it.

” She held up her hand, ticking things off with her fingers.

“It was mean, and cruel, and bitchy, and sneaky, and conniving”—out of fingers, she switched hands—“and it was hot, and sexy, and— oh my god —what a bad girl you were. If I hadn’t been so pissed off at you, I would have jumped your bones because it was so damn hot watching you shoot Mr. Grumpy Ass. ”

I snorted. “Excuse me? One second I’m a bitch and the next you’re hitting on me?”

She glared. “It can be both , Mara. I’m a complicated woman. Even I don’t understand all this,” she snapped as she motioned her hands up and down the length of her body, “but I live to serve it, not try and understand it, okay ?”

I gave her a half-smile. An old, buried part of me tickled at the humor, at our familiar banter. But it didn’t touch my soul the way it used to. “I’m sorry again,” I finally said. “Sorry for everything.”

She side- eyed me for a moment. “I forgive you,” she said, words at odds with the dubious look on her face. Her eyes scanned me, evaluating, assessing.

“What?” I finally asked, feeling uncomfortable by her gaze.

“Nothing. It’s just…” she hesitated. The seconds ticked by—one, two, three—and then she finally sighed, dropping her shoulders. “Never mind. I’m just really happy you’re okay.”

Okay? Is that what I was supposed to be? Okay ?

I held my brother as he died in my arms, was branded a traitor, thrown in prison and nearly tortured to death. And now, just because I happened to survive the whole damn thing, I was okay ?

I shook my head lightly as I tipped my chin to my chest, staring at my hands. “I don’t believe it,” I scoffed quietly to myself.

Edith crossed her legs on the bed, hunched over as she grabbed her ankles. “Just wait until you get out of this room. Wes had a bunch of soldiers move in to provide twenty-four-hour security to the estate. And let me tell you, my room kicks ass .”

Honestly, I didn’t care about all that. There was one thing I wanted to know. “Where’s Wes?”

“Visiting one of the bases with his mom. I messaged him already, so I’m sure he’ll be here in a few hours.”

Butterflies took flight in my stomach. The thought of seeing him triggered a mix of emotions inside me: fear, angst, frustration, shame, and…hope. But hope was nothing more than a speck of dust blowing in the wind, leaving me behind.

I blinked, shifting my attention away from the thought. “So,” I grabbed my tubes and waggled them, trying to smile but failing miserably. “What’s the story with these things and how do I ditch them?”

“That’s just IV fluids,” she said, pointing to the clear bag, “and that one’s the Asclepius Serum.” She pointed to the bluish one, and then dropped her hand on her knee.

I wrinkled my face. “What’s that one for?”

“Well,” she leaned back, stretching her arms behind her and resting on the heels of her hands. “That one saved your life. Do you remember Genesis? The stuff that saved your cute ass after the attack at Base Camp?”

I nodded.

“Well that ,” she said, pointing at the bag again, “is Genesis’s souped-up baby. It’s supposed to be more powerful with a sped-up healing process, making it work better and faster. Which,” she paused, flicking her hand at me, “it did.”

I glanced down at my body, lifting my arms to examine them. There was nothing left of Charles’s abuse. No faint scars, no swelling of any kind, no bruising…nothing. I rolled my shoulders and shifted in my bed, noticing how my body felt. Other than a little stiff, I felt good… physically at least.

“Huh…interesting,” I muttered to myself.

“The doc didn’t think you’d be out so long though. Every time he came to check on you, the poor guy was sweating. I think he was terrified Wes was going to throttle him.”

The corner of my lip tugged at the memory of him, but it fell a moment later. I sighed. “So, when do these things come out?”

“On it.” She lifted her wrist and typed away on her tab.

Two hours later, the doctor showed up and conducted an exam.

He reported I was the model of picture-perfect health.

There was no sign of what I had endured.

Everything was turned off, detached, and removed from my room.

I was ordered to start with light, broth-based soups first for the next twenty-hours, and if everything settled right, I could return to a normal diet after that.

“I recommend you begin with light training,” he added. “The exercise will be good for you, and you should notice that you’re about as strong as you were before you fell into a coma.”

So when I entered the pit, I made the mental note. I knew I wasn’t as strong as I was the day I entered into Telvia. Being in prison with minimal nutrition had weakened me. Movement sounded good, though, and I needed something to occupy my mind.

After he left, Edith ordered me soup while I showered. The clean scent of the soap was a welcome change, as were the floral notes of my shampoo. The water washed away the sweat and natural oils of my unmarred skin…except for my back.

The serum repaired my damaged body, but it couldn’t wipe away the hundreds of scars on my back from childhood. Nothing could wipe that clean. It was an outward symbol of how worthless I was…how broken I’d always been.

Because I was broken, wasn’t I?

I could feel it… Something inside me felt cracked—splintered into tiny pieces.

I thought maybe it was just a fleeting feeling—some sort of daze from being in stasis for so long—but it wasn’t, was it?

As the water poured over me, I started to realize that it was so much more than that.

I’d made so many mistakes, each one worse than the one before it, making a colossal mess of my life.

But the worst thing I did was push Raúl to his limit and force him to make a desperate choice I never saw coming.

“You killed him?” I had said to my father.

“No, Mara. You did.”

A sob ripped from my chest as the memory of my father’s accusation rang through me like the words of an executioner casting judgment. I buried my face in my hands as the water continued to fall, washing away my salted tears. But it couldn’t wash away the stain from my soul.

It was my fault.

Raúl pushed the button, but I was the one that killed Jacob.

I was no good for anyone, just a fucking plague that destroyed the things around it.

It was all my fault, everything from the very beginning.

Chase’s death in the arena…

Chelsea’s capture, leading her to being modified …

Wes’s broken heart…

And now Jacob’s death…

The common denominator was me . I was the problem. I was responsible.

“It ends with us,” Jacob’s words echoed in my mind. “Finish it.”

“But I can’t,” I muttered, water spurting from my lips.

“I can’t do it alone…” And it was true. I was alone.

I could be surrounded by people, surrounded by my friends, but I was still alone .

Because no one was going to understand, not like Jacob did.

He was the key. He knew what to do. And now he was gone … all because of me .

I dropped to the tiled floor in the shower, curled up into a ball, and cried.