Page 75 of Saints & Sinners

We’d made it out.

We managed to make it back to the motel somehow intact, though the details blurred together in a haze of shadows, and I felt more as though I was falling apart. Hunter checked the door, his strength fully back now as his eyes scanned the empty hallway, making sure we hadn’t been followed. As his gaze settled on me, he looked at the dried blood all over my jacket, my shirt, my hair... “Get out of those clothes, wash yourself and then we’ll leave, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered, like a broken doll.

My fingers shook as I ran into the bathroom and stepped in front of the mirror. I almost blacked out once I saw how much blood had splattered all over me and my white top. I was thankful this motel was that god-awful that no one had dared look up at us as we made our way through the front desk, but even so... this... I didn’t recognize myself.

I tried to steady my breathing as I turned on the tap, scrubbing my hands with frantic urgency. I scrubbed so hard I couldn’t tell if the blood swirling down the drain was mine or the Riftkeeper’s. My eyes burned, tears blurring my vision aseverything crashed down on me at once. A sob tore from my throat before I could stop it, raw and aching, shattering the silence.

The blood wasn’t coming off. It was branded to my skin just as the Riftkeeper mark was, and I desperately needed it gone.

All I could think was if I was just one and the same as the Riftkeeper’s. I killed that man with no remorse. Hell, this was the first I hadeverkilled someone.

What would Joe think?

What would Nadael, Eden, and every other angel at Celestia think of me?

Panic swelled in my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. “Why won’t you just fucking come off!” I sobbed in frustration.

“Grace,” Hunter’s voice came from behind. I ignored him as I smeared the blood all over my arms, the water doing nothing to help. “Grace.” My name sounded closer, but I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t think.

I wanted it to stop. I wanted this panic to just let me go, but it only seemed to tighten its hold on me.

Hands clasped my shoulders as I was spun around. Hunter was there, his grey eyes searching mine, but all I could see wasred, red, red.

“It won’t come off.” I sobbed. “It—it—”

He grabbed my face gently, but I couldn’t stop the violent tears racking my body. “Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me.”

I couldn’t. All I saw was blood everywhere. On me, on him, on the walls.

Red, red, red.

“Grace,” he said more firmly, and I shook my head. He was now moving me towards the shower, pulling his shirt over his head and turning the tap on as the cold water came down on us. I gasped and shuddered at the impact, but Hunter didn’t release me from his arms as he turned my back to his chest and slid usdown until we were both sitting beneath the shower spray.

I clung to him as I broke down in his arms. It was no longer the blood; it was the Riftkeeper’s, Lucas, being a Warrior when I wasn’t supposed to be one and so much more blended into one giant mess.

Yet through it all, Hunter stayed with me, never once telling me to stop crying or anything. He rocked us back and forth, his chin pressed against the top of my head as he lulled me into a sense of security that I did not want to end.

I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that, letting the water soak through us but all I knew was that the longer I was in his arms, the less the world seemed to stop spinning.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

I stood inside the bathroom, the soft patter of water fading as I ran a towel through my damp hair. Hunter’s shirt hung loosely on me, the fabric warmed from his scent even as my mind still raced with thoughts of the Riftkeeper’s and the horrific things I’d seen. I didn’t want to keep thinking about it, and I didn’t want the panic to creep back in, but it was hard and draining.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the bathroom door and entered the bedroom. Hunter was sitting at the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, staring intently at the ground. His jeans were damp as they hung low on his hips, but his chest was bare, the muscles in his back and arms tensing as if he was holding something back.

I took a step closer, uncertain but drawn in by the heaviness of his silence.

“Hey,” I whispered like an absolute fool. He looked up, and something raw and unguarded flickered across his eyes, almost as if darkness lurked behind them.

I frowned, and without another word, I crossed the space between us and sat beside him, close enough that our knees touched. “Thank you, by the way,” I said. “For what you did backthere.”

He kept silent as he reached for me, his touch gentle as he tucked a damp curl of hair behind my ear. My breath hitched as I felt his finger brush against my cheek, and I shivered in response.

“How—” I licked my lips. “How did you know how to calm me down?” I tried to keep on the topic of conversation. It wasn’t the first time he had witnessed me in full panic mode, but this time it was different. Marnie wasn’t here to emotionally heal me; it was Hunter who took the lead without a fault.

“I used to have panic attacks when I was younger,” he finally said, and my heart instantly ached for him. “At first, my powers used to scare me. I’d break everything with my strength and accidentally hurt people, so... my brother, to calm me down, would sit with me in the shower. The cold water used to help.”

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