Page 62 of Burn for Me

“Why? Were you afraid I’d see you as a human?” I try to laugh lightheartedly, but he doesn't respond in kind.

"Exactly." It’s a quiet word that makes me feel nauseous. One step forward, ten steps back. I never fully understood that saying until now—now that I'm living it.

He might just be having a rough day. People with PTSD experience those, right? As if sensing my internal panic, he pulls his arm away and retrieves the file he brought with us from the waistband of his pants, never once glancing in my direction.

Staying quiet, I reach into his pocket and pull out my notepad. This could easily be his way of showing me that he needs silence, similar to Sharkie. I’m sure he’s using this information as a fixation, just like he does with the monitor room back at the base.

I’ll talk to him more when he can relax his muscles a bit. For now, I need to list everything I think has set him off so I can memorize them and adjust.

A breeze blows over our skin for a long moment as we sit silently. It’s strange how I used to try to keep any information about him at a distance, but now I want to know every little detail so I can say thatI’m the onewho truly understands him.

“Hey…” I begin, realizing I never caught his cousin's name or where he is now. He continues to focus on the papers in his hand.

“You know what’s funny? I’ve gone through these documents a thousand times and still haven’t found any leaked information about you or me.” He hums nonchalantly as he flips a page back and forth while examining it.

“I’m sorry?” My brows furrow as I try to comprehend his sudden statement. Then it sinks in—if that’s intel about… that means…

“I thought I would have stumbled uponsomethingby now, but there's nothing. However, there’s plenty in here that almost no one knows. Moe's true heritage, Caspian's obsessive tendencies, and even Sharkie’s mental capacity.” He scoffs while holding up the paper, glaring at it as he taps the folder with his other hand.

“It even details various criminals, their crimes, and how they were accepted into Depth.” He shrugs, and I try to draw in a full breath, but I can’t because my heart is racing too fast, making it impossible to focus on anything except the tremor that runs down to my fingers.

“It’s beautiful blackmail,” he says calmly. I don’t know why, but that’s what hurts the most.

I’ve had Sam yell at me and push my buttons to get a reaction. He’s glared at me with rage, but I’ve never seen what he’s showing. His emotions blur together, twisting his features as his worry lines deepen and his brows shift from worry to a softer expression and back again. It’s almost as if he can’t decide whether he’s hurt or disgusted.

My lips part, but no words come out. Trembling, I fumble with my notepad. I need to show him my thoughts; admitting my mistake feels impossible. I’ve prepared what to say for months, but I lost my chance last night.

He snatches the pad and flips it open, analyzing every detail as he compares the pages.

“Sam—” I begin, but he lets out a laugh that tilts his head toward the sky, effectively cutting me off.

“You said you didn’t have a name. Has your memory improved enough now? You mentioned taking the fall for someone else. Was that just a cover? Have you been playing me this whole time?” He snaps quietly as he quickly pushes off the tree and stands. When I reach out to touch him, he jerks his arm away, preventing me from making contact.

“Melione.” Standing, I reach out again. I'm the last person who deserves comfort right now, but all I crave is the safe feeling it gives me when I make contact with him.

“I-I really did take the fall for someone, but I didn’t—I wouldn’t—I wasn’t trying to play you.” My words start to jumble as I struggle to find the right ones, but panic is taking over with all the possibilities of what this could mean. I’ll be kicked out and treated as a traitor. I might even see the inside of a cell instead of pretending I have.

I’ll lose him.

I can't help but feel relieved that this didn't happen last night. The way he slowly pivots in my direction, stalking toward me like a predator, with his shoulders tense and his face contorted into a menacing scowl, is unsettling. He might have actually pushed me off that roof. Yet, as I grapple with that fear, I know deep down that it's not entirely true.

I would have jumped before he had the chance because the look on his face right now is not one I want to see before facing my fate. Before I go, I just want to hold onto the image of his amazing smile, where his sharp canine peeks out. His warm brown eyes light up when the sun hits them, revealing little bits of amber that sparkle like stars.

“Melione,” Sam repeats slowly as if he’s tasting it on his tongue, and his cheeks pinch in like it’s bitter.

“Fitting,” he says sarcastically, stepping back to look me over. My lip quivers, and my body tenses. My father was fascinated with Greek mythology, so it makes sense that he chose the goddess of nightmares and death—the one who brings madness to everyone she haunts. Perhaps that’s why everyone I love eventually decides I’m not good enough to keep around.

“I—”

“Save it.” He turns and stomps back in the direction we came from, making it a struggle to keep up with his long strides.

He has no right to sit here and act like I was fake. He’s the only person I’ve ever truly been myself around. There are a thousand things I need to say—so many points I want to elaborate on to help him understand.He doesn’t get to cut me off. He doesn’t get to—

I reach out to grab his elbow, but he abruptly stops and points his finger in my face while holding the file and my pad tightly in his other hand, so tightly they crinkle.

“Don’t fucking touch me. For years, you have exposed everything. This is the one job…” He interrupts himself with another annoyed grunt before continuing. “You’ve almost ruined everything, and for what? Did you receive nice fat checks? Did they promise to pull you from Depth? Were you that miserable being with me that…”

He looks away, clearing his throat.

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