Page 79 of The World Undone

And Arnell being the resident tech genius, had been just as busy as the rest of us, trying to stay afloat and on top of information—neither of them would argue with me if it meant risking one of the rare hours they actually got to exist in the same building together.

I took a deep breath, slid the key into the lock, and then froze.

“Fucking coward,” I muttered to myself.

If Sarah was locked in her nightmares, the least I could do was fucking sit there with her for a little while. I was the only one who truly knew what horrors she was going through.

With one more deep breath, I turned the handle before I had another chance to chicken out, and forced myself inside, shutting the door a little too loudly behind me.

She was alone, crouched in a corner, head ducked between her knees, her bedding largely untouched.

She looked like a shadow of the girl we’d brought back with us from hell. She’d obviously lost weight, but there was a sunkenness about her, hollowed and hunched where she’d been confident and proud before.

My throat clogged with empathy as I listened to her muttering nonsensical words to herself, no louder than a hushed whisper.

She gave no sign that she’d heard me enter or noticed me at all. Not even when I hunched down next to her, my feet less than an inch from hers.

Agony was etched into her every muscle, her every line, and my eyes clouded over at the memory of my own.

I’d made it out, thanks to Max, but Sarah had been locked inside of herself for so much longer than I had.

These last few weeks, finding out where and how I fit in my life now? It seemed so fucking selfish in comparison to what she was going through.

My hand shook as I rested it on her shoulder, my ass falling to the floor with a graceless thud as I held back the black anguish creeping through my thoughts.

“I’m so sorry, Sarah,” I whispered, my voice shaky, fingers gripping into her bony shoulder blade. “I’m so fucking sorry. You shouldn’t have been there. It was about me, not you. And he took it out on you. I’m so, so sorry.”

My cheeks were damp now, and I sniffed as I wiped away the tears with the back of my sleeve. I didn’t have a right to feel this. I was here for her, not me.

“You’re strong,” I said, my voice cracking. “You can get through this. You will get through this. We just got you back. We won’t let you die like this. I’m sorry. I’m sorr—” I choked on my words as I fought to get the apology out. “I should have come sooner. I should have been here with you.”

She’d always been there for me.

For all of us.

And I’d let her down twice now. Once when she was taken by werewolves, and now.

Something tight gripped deep in my chest as I held onto her shoulders, willing her to hear me, even though I knew that no one had been able to get a response from her.

Hell, even her mother, Declan’s aunt, had tried. She’d arrived at The Lodge a few weeks ago and spent almost every waking hour trying to pull something from the daughter she’d already lost once.

The tightness grew painful, my eyes blacking out around the edges.

And Sarah’s breathing changed, her chest moving in slow, tandem heaves with mine.

I felt her muscles flex beneath my palms, her lips parted in a silent gasp as she leaned into my pressure, like I was pulling her to me, tugging her through some invisible string.

I fell back, stunned, my heart racing now as I broke contact with her.

She slumped back down, her back falling into the corner, head bowed toward the ground, like I’d imagined the entire thing.

Fucking hell. How hadn’t we thought of it before now?

Max hadn’t taught us to heal. It was the one power that took too much from her when she used it. It had taken months of practice, and still she frequently ran herself into the ground in the early days, occasionally even flirting with a coma—or death—from pushing too hard to heal us.

That day, in the labs, even then as strong and powerful as she’d grown, I could see the toll that healing me had taken on her.

But she’d been able to because we were bonded.

---