Page 92 of Ghosts of the Dead

Finally, I glance over at her. She’s still staring at the fire, but her fingers curl tighter around her knees.

“I’ve spent years trying to be the guy who saves people. That’s why I didn’t hesitate to save those civilians even though I screwed up the operation. I don’t even care aboutbeing discharged, as long as I got to save people. So I understand how deep the wound cuts when it comes to losing someone.” I don’t tell her the rest. About how it kills me inside that I couldn’t save her sister, even though I never met her. That some part of me feels like I failed Autumn, too.

Autumn turns her head, and those haunted hazel eyes lock onto mine. The skin around her eyes is still puffy from crying. Her hand lifts, and it trembles when she touches my face. Her palm is warm against my jaw. “You can’t save everyone,” she says in a voice that’s barely there.

I catch her hand in mine and hold it against my skin. I close my eyes. “Doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying. Especially when it comes to saving you.”

Her lips tremble, but she doesn’t pull away. I press her hand tighter against my face and make a silent vow. She’ll never meet the same fate as her sister.

Not while I’m still breathing.

32

AUTUMN

It’s been three days.

Three days since the tunnel.

Three days since Summer.

Lucy is still nowhere in sight after having led me here.

The sun hangs low, casting long shadows across the ruins of our makeshift camp that’s nothing more than a fire because we left all our supplies behind.

Jace, Mars, and Caspian have scoured every inch of this place while I remained frozen in time, willing the small campfire to swallow me whole. Every alley, every road, every broken building searched and searched again. They take turns. One stays with me while the other two sweep outward, expanding the circle. They haven’t found anything.

No Lucy.

No leads.

Nothing but emptiness, and I’m sick of it.

I sit near the fire. The same hollow pit where we’ve been camped since the night we got here. My hands pick at the frayed edge of the jacket sleeve Jace draped over me when he reappeared the second time. I pull the threads apart without thinking, watching them unravel like everything else in mylife. The wind stirs ash from the fire pit, sending a thin plume into the air that makes my eyes water. Or maybe that’s just me.

The guys watch me like I’m about to shatter again. They hover. One of them is always nearby with something in hand. Water I won’t drink. Food I won’t eat. Blankets I don’t want. Nothing that will actually help.

I don’t want their sympathy. Their waiting gazes that track my every movement. Their fucking patience and protectiveness that makes me want to scream.

I want Lucy. I want the people who did this, and I want answers. The sniper said the brothers did this. Lucy said she has brothers. I need to find these damn brothers.

My teeth grind together so hard my jaw aches. I dig my nails into the threads of my jacket and yank until they snap. The small tear leaves the fabric unraveling. Like me.

I shove the jacket off my shoulders and toss it to the ground next to the flannel Mars left for me. My heart races. My throat tightens. The fire blurs in my vision.

“Autumn?”

My head snaps up.

Caspian watches from a few feet away, keeping his distance to give me the space they think I need. As though space will fix this. As though space will bring her back.

His pale blue eyes hold that soft concern that makes my chest ache. “You okay?”

That’s what does it. That one question. Such a stupid question. It’s like watching someone cut their finger clean off and then asking them if they want a band-aid.

“Do I look okay?” I say with words sharp enough to cut.

He straightens, but doesn’t fight back. He only takes the verbal lashing.

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