Page 78 of Meet Me In The Dark

You don’t know what I need, but you know how you could find out? Byaskingme. Bylistening. By trusting me when I tell you that what I fuckingneedis you.

Jesus, she was right. He was a fucking dumbass.

He was choosing for her, again. He was so desperate to distance himself from the man who hurt her most, to not be a man who hurt her, ever again, he was fixated on pushing her away. He hated the idea of her becoming like him, but that was nothing more than his own shame and self-loathing. He was trying to control everything, instead of realizing that in this, she had to be in control.

That’s what would make him different from the professor. From Christopher. Not “giving her up,” or setting her free. But lettingherchoose. That’s all she wanted, to have agency and feel like an equal partner of theirs, to be a full part of their team. She wanted to decide, and even if what she decided on was a dangerous, dark life, that was her choice. If that’s what she wanted? Well, then Conor would give it to her.

Or die trying.

Except not that, either. She wanted to share the darkness with him, so he owed it to her to try to live. He didn’t know how the fuck they were going to figure it out, but he’d do it. For her.

For all of them.

Because he loved them too much not to.

“Christopher,” he said. Not ‘professor.’ Because Micah was right, Christopher was just a man. No more, no less.

And men weren’t invincible.

Men could die.

“Yes?” Christopher asked.

“Go to hell.”

A muscle in the other man’s cheek ticked. But all he said was, “Ah, I do believe I’m headed there one day. But since you’ll get there first, you’ll save me a seat, won’t you?”

25

Luke was about to lose his fucking mind.

Oh, he’d been teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown for days. Christopher’s psychological torture was effective in that way, and his still healing ribs and finger and broken arm didn’t help matters. But he’d managed to pull himself back from it.

Until now.

Both Conor and Kara had been taken away, and all he and Micah could do was sit in their cramped quarters, arms literally tied behind their backs, and try to force their will on the universe to keep their loved ones safe.

The universe wasn’t fucking cooperating.

“Goddamn it,” Luke exploded, desperate to pound something. Ideally Christopher’s fucking face.

“Yeah,” Micah said. “I—fuck. Yeah.”

It was unlike Micah to lack words, and it was insight into how helpless the other man felt. How truly fucked they were. Part of Luke wanted to comfort him, but it reminded Luke of something that had pissed him off earlier.

“You didn’t have to bring her, you know,” Luke said. “In fact, you were supposed to do the opposite.”

Micah shook his head, and that small movement, head to the right, head to the left, lit a spark of anger in Luke that had lain dormant since they’d been captured again.

“That was the fucking point of all of this, wasn’t it?” Luke added. God, he was angry. “Conor and I sacrificed ourselves so that you could keep her safe. And here we are, all trapped together, with Jesus fucking Christ knows what happening to her right now, all because what, you couldn’t stand up to her?”

“Really, Luke?” Micah’s frustration came through his voice.

It was as if their circumstances had stripped Micah of his legendary calm and his ability to hide his thoughts and emotions from the rest of them. Maybe it had taught him that manipulating the three of them wasn’t the best way to cement their relationships with each other. Or that their relationship didn’t need cementing anymore.

Good.

“Really,” Luke said. “To be clear, I wish you hadn’t come after us either—I wantedyousafe, too.”

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