Page 18 of Martyr
“Holy shit. And how do you know this?”
I shift. “Because I’m the one who got them out of Terror.”
He stills. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s definitely not funny. Terror didn’t just dry up after my brother got me out. I made it my mission to end it, to save as many people as I could, but it still—” My throat closes. I swallowa few times, suppressing the sudden urge to cry, then finish, “It still wasn’t enough.”
Reese releases the edge of the bed and steps closer to me. “You got them out.”
“Andthiswas the price.” I wave my hand at Lyssa’s prone form. “I just—it wasn’t ever my intention for Lyssa to be hurt when I was trying to help them. But it doesn’t matter what my intention was. It happened. She’s been like this for ten years.”
Ten years.
“Artemis.”
I shake my head. “Don’t try to console me on this. The guilt I feel?—”
“I can probably relate,” he interrupts. “I know what being on the outside of Terror, and trying to right wrongs but being fucking helpless, does to a person.”
I go quiet. He’s right. I didn’t want to think about that, abouthisside of things, but I believe in his character. I believe he didn’t willingly go to Terror. And, as a sixteen-year-old, what power did he have to shut it down?
The image of him bursting through the door of one of the private rooms to get to me springs to mind.
“You became a sort of lifeline,” I say quietly. When I walked into a private room and saw Reese, a tiny bit of the crushing weight lifted off my shoulders. “And what you were to me is what Lyssa was to Gabriel. He was trapped in Terror for far longer than anyone should’ve been. I can’t even blame him for being what he is.”
He opens his mouth, but I can’t fathom what he’s about to say. And he never gets a chance, because Lyssa’s door suddenly swings inward.
Saint rushes in, his gaze immediately latching on to my face. Triumph—at catching me out of bed, in an off-limits room, perhaps—flickers across his expression, replaced immediatelyby confusion. His attention bounces between Reese, dressed in street clothes, to the prone girl in the bed.
Yeah, I’d be confused, too.
“Hey, buddy,” Reese greets him, nonplussed by the unexpected intrusion. “You look better.”
Saint narrows his eyes. “You came with me here.”
Reese inclines his chin.
“Forgive me if I don’t recall your name.” Saint taps his temple. “The memory issues are a bitch.”
Reese glances at me, then back to him. There’s sympathy there, probably because Saint is being a dick right off the bat. For no fucking reason.
Welcome to Saint’s world, Reese. We’re all just existing in it.
Still, Reese seems unbothered. He smiles and introduces himself by name, then adds, “We’re friends. And if you’re going to gawk, you may as well close the door so we’re not all ousted by orderlies.”
Saint steps inside and lets the door swing shut behind him. It latches with a softclick.
The room shifts into an uncomfortable silence, until Saint finally gestures to Lyssa.
“Anyone going to fill me in? Or is this another thing I should know but don’t?”
I cross my arms, moving slightly to block Lyssa’s face. “What brought you down here, Saint?”
He scowls. “Why is every question met with another these days?”
“Oh, I don’t know, because you don’t do anything without a reason. And cominghere, intothisroom, seems mighty suspicious.” I glare at him. “What got you out of bed? Wasn’t me.”
Saint’s nostrils flare. “You jealous, Tem? I’m coming to see some girl who isn’t you in the middle of the night?”
