Page 55 of Whatever Wakes

The words hit me like a hammer. I’ve spent so long believing I was untouchable, unbreakable.

But she’s proof that I’m not.

She’s the only thing that matters, and I hate myself for it. Because caring for her—wanting her—makes me weak. Vulnerable. And I can’t afford that.

I tell myself it’s just the adrenaline, just the aftermath of everything we’ve been through. But that’s a lie. I’ve felt this way since the beginning—since the moment she crashed into my life.

Still, I tighten my hold on her, my fingers curling into her back like I’m afraid she’ll vanish if I let go.

Maybe I am.

Her breath brushes my neck as she whispers, “You’re not a bad person, Ezra. No matter what you think.”

I want to believe her. I want to let her words sink in, to stitch up the torn, hollow spaces inside me. But the truth is, she doesn’t know me.

Not really.

Not like I want her to.

She knows the pieces I’ve shown her, the fragments I’ve let slip through the cracks. The parts that make me look salvageable.

If she saw the rest—if she knew how fucking obsessed I am with her—she’d run. Far, far away, and never look back.

Because the sad fact is, kidnapping her is the least of what I would do to keep her safe.

Safe and mine.

And maybe that’s why I’m holding on so tightly now.

Because for once in my life, someone sees the worst parts of me and doesn’t think I’m the villain.

For once, someone looks at me and doesn’t flinch.

And I’m terrified of what I’ll become if I lose that.

If I lose her.

For now, I let myself pretend that she’s right. That I can be more than what the Assembly made me. That this moment—her warmth, her touch, her breath against my skin—can be enough to quiet the chaos inside me.

But deep down, I know it’s a lie.

Because nothing will ever be enough.

Not until the Assembly is destroyed.

Not until she’s safe.

And maybe not even then.

17

HE’S BEEN EXHAUSTED, HASN’T HE?

KRUZ

The first thingI notice when I wake is the light. It’s different—softer, warmer. Actual sunlight spills through the windows, cutting through the lingering shadows of the storm.

For a moment, I just lie there, letting the brightness seep into me, and then I hear it—a hum. Something running.