Page 36

BENJI

Z oey hasn’t spoken a word since I told her.

She hasn’t even looked at me. She still sits on the floor, her back turned to me, shoulders locked tight, and her head bowed like she’s turned to stone.

Every inch of her screams closed off. I don’t know if she’s angry, hurt, or something else entirely, but her silence cuts deeper than anything she could ever say. The worst part? I don’t blame her.

The only thing I know for sure is that she’s quiet, and it’s killing me.

I lean my forehead against the cold bars. “Zoey. Please talk to me.”

Nothing. Not even a flinch. Her silence cuts deeper than any words could.

I squeeze my fists against the metal and force myself to breathe through the guilt washing in my chest. “You think I wanted to keep this from you?” My voice comes out strained, raw.

“Believe me, I didn’t, and it’s been killing me trying to figure out whether or not I should tell you.

I didn’t know how. Didn’t know if it was the right thing.

And that hesitation? That’s on me. But Zoey…

” I suck in a sharp br eath. “I never wanted to lie to you, and I never wanted to keep something this important from you.”

Her fingers press into the dust on the floor, drawing shapes, but she still doesn’t look at me.

That’s fine, though. I deserve this. Her silence.

Her anger. The fact she threw away her own damn freedom for me, and I couldn’t even give her the truth in return?

That’s gotta sting. Hell, if the roles were reversed, I’d be hurt, too.

“If I knew what Nathan was going to do, if I knew he would go after your people, after you, then I would have done everything in my power to stop him.” My fingers curl into fists at the thought of how she was fighting for her life back then.

“I should have tried harder, should have done something. I could have gone with him under the guise of helping, then protect and fight alongside the people he wanted to hurt instead of sitting here in the damn dark doing nothing. Turning my back on you before I knew you existed is my greatest regret.”

Zoey flinches. It’s small, but at least she’s reacting to my words. Even though it’s the first reaction I’ve gotten from her since dropping this bombshell, it doesn’t bring me relief. Instead, it makes me feel worse.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. My voice breaks under the weight of it. “If you’re mad at me, I get it. I deserve it. But please don’t shut me out like this.”

Still, nothing. She keeps moving her finger around, drawing symbols in the dust. The moment that shatters my heart is when she swipes at the corner of her eye with the back of her hand.

Before I can say anything else, the sound of heavy footsteps echoes through the corridor.

I jerk my head up when two dregs appear, their expressions unreadable in the dim light.

One of them I recognize as Wilkes, and realizing that Zoey’s about to leave her cell and be alone with him and there’s nothing I can do to stop it, is a whole new low I get to experience.

Wilkes unlocks Zoey’s cell. “Time to go. Eugene’s waiting for you.”

I reach through the bars. My fingers ache to grab her, to keep her here, but before I can even touch her, she stands and smooths out the wrinkles from her clothes. Almost like she’s stalling. Forcing herself to act like it’s okay when it isn’t.

“Zoey,” I try again.

She hesitates for a brief second at the door. Her fingers graze the metal frame, like she might, just maybe, look back at me, but she doesn’t. Without a word, she follows the dregs into the shadows.

The silence she leaves behind is suffocating. I sink to the floor and press my head against the bars of her empty cell, every muscle in my body tight. This is my fault.

I curl my hands into fists and press them against my forehead, fighting the useless, raging feeling of helplessness. Of hopelessness. I should have told her sooner, when she first mentioned his name. I should have—fuck.

The memory of her flinch, her refusal to look at me, plays on a loop in my mind.

I don’t blame her. She has every right to feel betrayed, but it doesn’t make the weight in my chest any lighter.

I run my fingertips along the length of my scar, feeling the raised ridges I’ve come to know well in the dark.

“Benji.” Damon’s voice cuts through the stillness, but I don’t move. I don’t respond. I’m glad they brought back my friend, but it still doesn’t help the deep emptiness inside of me. “She doesn’t hate you. She’s just dealing with it.”

I let out a hollow laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“She didn’t even look at me.” My throat tightens.

“Not that she could see me anyway, but still.” I shake my head.

My voice is a rasp of exhaustion, and I don’t have the energy to reach for a bottle of water.

“How am I so hung up on a girl who can’t even see me? ”

“She will. She’s going through all of this for us, after all.”

I tilt my head back and stare up at the darkness pressing in from the ceiling. “How can you be so sure?”

“Mere hours ago, I was filled with doubt, too.”

“What changed?”

There’s a long pause before he responds. “The rooftop.”

Both Damon and Zoey were brief in their explanation with what happened up there, but ever since he came back, I’ve noticed a change in Damon. He has an air of hope that he hasn’t had in a long time. His normal doubt and self-deprecation aren’t on display.

“What do you think, Cole?” I ask.

His green eyes continue watching. They’re always watching. “I think you’re a dumbass if you give up.”

I let out a huff. “Asked, and answered.”

Damon shuffles in his cell. “What was she drawing over there?”

I blink. “What?”

“Before she left. She was drawing something in the dust over there.”

I turn around to look into her cell for the first time since she walked out and I see it.

Faint streaks of letters and symbols remain, but before I can piece together the message, the dregs return and step into her cell.

They strip the bed, stomp all over the food, and shred her pillow.

Their boots scuff over the dust, smearing the letters before I have a chance to see what she wrote, then they leave with the mattress.

I could kick myself for not looking at it sooner.

Damon lets out a frustrated grunt, and his cot creaks when he lowers himself onto it. Then I hear that damn metal clinking in a steady rhythm that I haven’t heard since the night they brought Zoey in here.