Page 99 of The Truths We Burn

Jealously bumbles in my gut.

See what she’s doing to me? Wrecking my life all over again. Turning me against my own goddamn friends. Because of her, I’d been angry with Alistair, I’d lied to Thatcher, and now I’m jealous of Silas.

Envious that they have a connection I’ll never be able to understand, and there’s nothing I could say about it.

What am I supposed to do? Walk up to them and piss all over her like some territorial dog?

Sage Donahue had been a lot of things, but mine was never one of them.

I have no right to speak about what I’m watching, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.

“Why? So you can save me? Make yourself feel better?” she says coldly with no trace of emotion in her tone at all. Here she is, the cruel-hearted bitch I’d come to know so well. The one that could break you just after building you up. “So you can make up for not being there for Rose?”

“I’m just trying to make sure you don’t die,” he replies.

“Yeah? And why didn’t you do the same for my sister?”

I knew what she was capable of when it came to that silver tongue. How reckless she was with her words when she was upset. How easily she could hurt someone with only her voice.

I’m not going to let that happen to him. Not when he doesn’t deserve it.

“Sage, stop,” I warn, making my way closer to their space, standing close behind them.

“No.” She ignores me. “You were supposed to be there, but you let her walk home from the library alone.”

Here she comes dragging up broken memories, ones that Silas doesn’t need to be reminded of because he never forgets it. When Sage hurts, she has to make everyone else hurt around her.

“You were supposed to be there!” Her voice has upgraded to a shout as she pokes him in the chest. Yet, he stands hard like a statue, unmoving, letting her words pellet his hard exterior.

“We were supposed to protect her!” The first tear streams down her face, pain leaking from her eyes that no one can heal.

And if anyone understands that, it’s Silas.

They could find common ground in their grief, having lost the same person. They would be able to comprehend each other’s emotions, something I’ll never be able to do for either of them. Especially Silas.

It doesn’t matter how close I was to Rose; I didn’t have a bond with her like he did. I can’t help him the way I want to. I can’t make this better for him, no matter how many times a day I check-in.

There is nothing I can do to help him heal from her, but what I can do is make sure he gets his revenge for it.

“And now look, she’s dead! She died, Silas, all alone! Why didn’t you protect her? Why couldn’t we save her?”

His armor breaks—one of the harsh bullets penetrates through the metal and sinks through the bone. I see it in the way he cringes like it’s more than emotional trauma. It’s a physical discomfort that circulates across him.

Closing his eyes for a brief second before reopening them, he reaches forward to touch Sage.

“Rosie, I—”

“What?” She flinches, struck by his words. “Did you just call me Rosie?”

A distress signal is sent to my brain.A universal panic.

I try to push the dread down. Try to tell myself it was an honest mistake, a mix-up. He’s been taking his meds—I’ve watched him every single day.

He is fine. It was just a fuck up. That’s it.

But with his diagnosis, it’s hard to brush things like that off when I’m constantly aware of his symptoms and when things are getting worse. I want this to be a coincidence. I want to believe it was a mistake.

“That’s enough,” I interrupt, striding between the two of them. I’m just not sure who I’m protecting. Am I blocking Sage? Or am I shielding Silas?