Page 126 of The Truths We Burn

“Why? Where are we going?” she asks.

I find her eyes, seeing a woman who built herself from the last spark of her dying embers.

A phoenix.

One that makes no excuses for who she made herself into, no apologies if you get too close to her and find yourself scorched.

They’d ripped her wings from her back, but she replaced them with ashes and eternal wings made of the hottest blue flame.

And in order for her to fly, I’m going to cut the chains keeping her rooted to the ground.

But first…

“There is a theory I need to test.”

Rook

“We need to talk.”

The door that I shoved open bounces off the wall.

I look at Thatcher, who is perched on top of his bed, legs crossed and quiet as he lifts an eyebrow over the top of his book.

“No need to slam doors,” Alistair says as he leans back in his chair, turning from the desk he’d been hunched over before we made our loud entrance. “Why is she here?”

I look to my side, seeing Sage standing with her arms crossed, a look of frustration and confusion on her face.

“I’d like to know myself,” she mutters.

After I’d threatened to slash all four of her tires and drag her here against her will, she agreed to come with me.

She knows I don’t bluff, and I wasn’t taking no for an answer.

I need this.

I need to see if I’m just immune to her dishonesty or if she was actually telling the truth. I can’t take another risk with her. I wouldn’t survive another betrayal at her hands, not again, and neither would she.

“Are you alright?” Silas mutters, scanning her face before looking up and down her body. It’s not sexual; he’s just checking to see if she has any injuries, but it irritates me. He takes deliberate steps in her direction, and as if on instinct, I step in front of his path.

He stops, his shoes touching the tips of my own. Our eyes connect, and there is an unspoken challenge that occurs between the two of us. I wouldn’t fight him, not over something like this, because I know it didn’t come from a place of desire but from longing.

However, I’m still not going to let him cradle Sage because she reminds him of Rose.

“She is fine,” I grunt. “Are you taking your meds?” I’m not able to stop myself. I couldn’t ask him at the graveyard—the emotions were too raw, too fresh.

But this isn’t him.

He holds my stare, unmoving. “I don’t need a babysitter, Rook.”

“I’m not going to ask again. Are you taking—”

“Yes.”

This is not over. I know it isn’t, and I plan on resisting this as soon as what I came here for is done.

I look over my shoulder at Sage. “I want you to tell them exactly what you told me about Cain. All of it.”

“Why should—”