Page 16 of Ghosts of the Dead

“I know,” I say, but I don’t stop. Because I need to push her away before I pull her into the cold shadows with me and get her hurt. The only way to keep others safe is for me to hurt alone. “He’s lucky.”

Her brow furrows. “To be alive?”

I uncap the gas can and start pouring it into the tank. The slosh of fuel is the only sound for a moment. “To be looked at like that. To be held like he matters.”

The words taste bitter. What I really want to say is that I’m jealous as hell watching her care for Mars. Jealous of how gently she touched his face, how she cradled him against her chest. I want to know what it feels like to be held by someone who gives a damn whether I live or die, but that can never happen.

Her breath catches, then she fires back. “First of all, you all matter. So whatever pity party you’re hosting, you can shut it down, because I’m not attending.”

I slide the nozzle out of the tank and set the can on the ground.

“Second of all,” she continues, “whatever you think is happening here, it’s not. I’m here for one reason, and that’s to find my sister. I’ve dealt with dregs, almost died more times than I can count, and I’ve fought against men twice your size who thought I was an easy target.” My muscles coil at that, and I want to find all these men and rip their heads off with my bare hands, but I keep my expression cool and neutral. “Hell, in the last twenty-four hours alone, I’ve dodged bullets, jumped off a roof, and ran through a rotter-infested city while throwing around homemade explosives. Whatever it is you’re looking for, it’s not me.”

I face her and lift my hands in surrender. “Whoa. Okay. Some wires definitely got crossed.”No, they didn’t.

Her jaw clenches, and her shoulders rise up and back.

“Believe me,” I say, leveling my tone, “when I say I’m not interested in anything you’re offering. I’m here to do a job. That job just so happens to be about you.”

The lie burns my throat. I’m interested in everything about her. Her fierce independence, her refusal to give up on her sister, the way she throws herself into danger without hesitation. Her ability to toss explosives around like confetti and not even flinch.

I’m interested in the soft sounds she made when Mars kissed her, and I hate myself for wanting to hear them directed at me. The only thing this new world has brought me is darkness, and she’s the first beam of light I’ve come across. I don’t actually know her yet, and I don’t even give a damn how cheesy that sounds.

Her gaze sharpens.

“Not like that,” I rush to clarify. “I mean, I was sent to find you. Keep you alive and keep you safe. That’s it. I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep.”

She looks pissed now. Good. A pissed Autumn won’t keep trying to make me fucking smile, and won’t keep looking at me like I’m worth saving. “Things would be a lot easier for you if you hadn’t interfered with the sniper,” she says, her eyes challenging me.

“Not really, because then I wouldn’t have been able to keep my promise of keeping you safe.”

We fall into silence. Her eyes flash, maybe in anger. She turns to stalk off, but her wrapped wrist clips the corner of the hood. “Shit,” she hisses out, clutching her arm. “Dammit.”

I reach out without thinking. My fingers circle her forearm,and I lift her hand to examine it in the dying light. Her skin is warm under my touch, and I have to fight the urge to trace my thumb across her pulse point.

Her Gemini tattoo peeks out beneath the bandage edge. Two lines crossing another. A mark for duality. For two halves that belong together. “We’ll find her,” I say, my voice quiet. “I promise.”

She studies me. Her face is unreadable in the shadows, but her voice is softer now. “That’s a difficult promise to keep.”

I lift my gaze to meet her eyes. They’re hazel with little flecks of gold that catch the last bit of sun, and I have to resist the urge to memorize every detail. My mind goes haywire around this woman, and that alone frustrates me to no end. “I know, but like I said. I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep.”

What I don’t tell her is that I’d tear this whole dead world apart to help her find her sister. That somewhere between watching her fight rotters with a sprained wrist because she refused to leave my friends for dead, and seeing her care for Mars like he mattered, she got under my skin.

The truth is, I’m already in deeper than I’ve ever intended. And that terrifies me.

8

AUTUMN

Everything is too quiet. The kind of quiet that hums louder than sound.

The fire crackles low, reduced to glowing embers and soft pops as the last kindling burns away. Flames flicker light across broken walls and exposed beams. Smoke curls toward the half-collapsed roof and disappears into the star-freckled night sky.

Rotters are far enough away now that I can almost pretend the world’s still asleep instead of rotting, but my brain refuses to play along. My thoughts won’t shut up, spinning like knives on a tabletop, each one threatening to cut deeper.

I sit with my back against a splintered beam near the rear corner of our shelter with my knees pulled tight to my chest and one arm wrapped around them. My injured wrist rests in my lap, throbbing in slow, insistent pulses that echo up to my elbow.

My head tilts back and I stare up at the hole-punched sky through what’s left of the ceiling. Charred beams form jagged crosses against the stars. I should sleep. Hell, Ineedto sleep. But every time I close my eyes, I see her face and hearher voice. Summer, my other half, being dragged through the dirt, screaming for help I failed to give.

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