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Dear Saint,

It occurred to me that I could write to anyone else, but I most want to talk to you.

How are you? Do you have any new tattoos? Have you put your artwork on anyone more famous than the guys from last year?

I dream in equal parts about you and heroin. If it’s you, I wake up crying. Because you’re so far away from me, and I can’t do anything about it. Or maybe I just won’t . That’s what we’re learning here, you know? The option to not do anything but exist.

Unfortunately, I’m making friends. Some of these girls are so nice, I just know terrible things happened to them.

Have you seen my brother?

I contemplated writing to him, but I don’t know how much he knows. I don’t even know if he’s back from Emerald Cove yet. If he isn’t, I can’t worry him.

I know he’d storm the island if he thought he had to. He’s done worse, after all.

Send my love to Antonio and Vittoria.

Tell Reese he’ll get the next letter.

All my love,

Artemis

It joins the first in the drawer.

The words I write are like an open wound. It’s a new kind of pain that I haven’t experienced before. I’m afraid I might get addicted to the bite of it.

What if spilling my mind out across pages is my new form of relief?

Dear Reese,

We talked about Terror today.

I thought of you, but not in a bad way.

It was kind of healing.

—Artemis

I’m sick of letters. I take a walk outside, wrapped in a thick red coat. The isle is coated in a fresh layer of snow, and the air is crisp. It’s cold enough to sting when I inhale, so I keep doing it. Big inhale, then exhale a cloud from my lips and nose.

I think they give us red coats so we don’t get lost.

Someone said Christmas is just around the corner, and I can’t fathom that.

We arrived here too fast.

My slip-on shoes don’t have enough tread for this walk. The snow crunches under my feet, and I slide a few times on my way through the trees. I just want a break from being inside, and I finally got permission to go into town on my own.

It’s been over a month without any incident. I’ve been walking more, mostly within sight of the low white buildings. I would weave through the tree line, catch glimpses of the ocean through the snow-covered branches, but never went farther.

That darn fear again.

The town—it’s kind of laughable to call it that. There’s a collection of homes belonging to people who live on the island full time and provide for the trauma center and run the shops. Then, closer, there’s one main strip of shops.

A library, a grocery store, a post office.

The letters are in my pocket, sealed and addressed and stamped.

Dr. Hawthorne recommended that I send them, but…

I don’t know.

Instead of the post office, I go into the library. I smile tightly at the man behind the desk. His eyes narrow at the red coat, which would appear to be a signal of exactly what I am. Not who , but what . The category of person.

Which is: trauma-filled.

Laughable.

“Do you have computers?” I ask him.

He inclines his chin and waves his hand toward the back of the library.

“Let me know if you need help,” he calls to my back.

I won’t.

There’s a row of ancient computers against the far wall. I take a seat at one on the end and shed my jacket.

I log in under a fake name and send the message I memorized to an account I’m not sure still exists.

Not two minutes later, I get a reply.

A link.

I click it, and a new window opens.

A chat.

D

That you, T?

T

In the flesh.

D

I made it to SF

Daniel went back to Sterling Falls? My heart squeezes.

T

How is everyone?

D

We’re staying on the DL. Holed up at K’s.

Down-low. Kora’s house.

T

I need to see you guys. This thing has a webcam

D

Ok. Give me a min.

I lean back in the chair and drum my fingers on the desk. My heartbeat is doing something weird, fluttering in my chest. It takes a long moment to pinpoint that I’m not anxious—it’s just plain old nerves.

Finally, Daniel replies with another link. I click it, redirected once more, and hit accept on its request for access to my camera and microphone.

It isn’t Daniel who fills the screen when it connects, though—it’s Saint.

I immediately burst into tears.

Fuck the letters . This is better—and so, so much worse.

“Hey, wildcat,” he says softly.

“Hi,” I hiccup through my choked sobs. I pat at my cheeks and try to control my voice. “How are you?”

“As good as we can be.” His gaze burns into me. “When are you coming home?”

“I—” My mouth dries, and that fear takes hold. “I don’t know.”

“I miss you,” he says.

“Saint, I’m so sorry.” I lean forward. “How can you miss me after what I did?”

He grimaces. “Try to believe me when I say: I don’t hold it against you. Okay? And what I should’ve said before we left Starlight is that I’ve been falling in love with you for the past year. Nothing you could do would dissuade me.”

I cover my mouth.

“Do you hear me? I’m in love with you, Artemis. I’m telling you this because I want you to come back, but I want you healthy. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Maybe .

Suddenly, Saint is shoved out of the frame.

Reese fills the space. “Hi.”

I smile. “Hi.”

“Quick recap, since I’m sure Saint jumped straight into a monologue about how much he cares about you. Ready?”

I settle in. “Ready.”

“Kade is unsurprisingly still an ass. He and I have been talking on a secure line, but he doesn’t know anything about you. He was pissed to learn that only one of us left Sterling Falls the night Ouranos arrived. Gabriel and the sheriff are now almost always together because of events.”

“Wait. Ouranos?”

He makes a face. “Sorry. Turns out, Gabriel and Kade have a scary master holding their leashes. His name is Ouranos… but also known as Marcus Graves.”

Why the fuck does that name sound familiar?

I stare at Reese, waiting for it to connect.

My mind has been getting clearer since ridding my body of the drugs, but I still have foggy moments. Like right now, when I should know exactly who that is.

“He’s a justice from Emerald Cove,” Reese says.

I snap my fingers. “He signed the warrant for Bow & Arrow!”

Reese freezes. “Did he? Shit. Okay.”

“Is he related to?—”

“Kronos? Yes, they’re brothers. It’s not ideal, but it makes sense why he moved into Sterling Falls. There was an obvious gap where the Titans used to be, and he would’ve been more aware of that than anyone.”

Great.

“Okay. How’s everyone else?”

Suddenly, the screen flashes.

Daniel reappears with an apologetic expression. “Sorry, Tem, we’re going to have to cut this short. Any longer and it could be traced to your IP. Talk soon, okay?”

“I—”

The screen shuts down.

Not only that, but the chat, too.

After a long moment, I clear my browsing history and close out of the forum.

It was nice to see them.

I don’t feel the need to mail the letters, after all.