Page 54 of His Black Onyx

Chapter 26

Nate

There's one thing you often hear people say when they see a loved one on their deathbed or severely beaten down by a horrible disease. That one visual impact we all seem to notice. And when we step inside the room where Lailah is being taken care of, I am overcome by this very same thought.

She looks so small.

I feel stupid when the thought first creeps up on me. Because Lailah is small. She always has been, even before the cancer attacked her.

But she was never weak.

The girl resting on the bed before us right now, buried under a set of thick sheets, hooked to an IV bag and with tubes running into her nose, doesn't look like the Lailah I know. And it hasn't even been that long since I last saw her, a few weeks maybe. She was still in the hospital then, still clinging on to the hope that she might recover from this diagnosis, be one of the lucky ones, a survivor, ready to complete a mission that most of us had long given up on.

She never gave up. Her cheeks were already sunken in and the shadows under her eyes as dark as they are now, but the last thing she said to me was, "I'm going to do this. I will. Because I can."

I wanted to believe it then, but I know I was fooling myself. I'm not sure if she believed it or not, though. It wouldn't surprise me if she actually thought that she could make it through this and come out on the other side a healthy woman, strong enough to be our Onyx.

I never even considered her feelings when I came up with the idea of replacing her with an unsuspecting stranger.

I never thought about any of this. I never thought about how it would be for the two of them to meet, if they ever did. I never thought about the conversation they could possibly have, about the feelings this may bring forth, the trouble it could cause.

I never thought about it—which means, I'm not prepared for it. This is very unlike me. I'm always prepared, for every contingency, every possible outcome, anything and everything that could go wrong in a situation. I've always been in control. But lately, that control has slipped out of my hands, forcing me to constantly come up with solutions on the spot for problems that I didn't anticipate just a moment before.

I asked Mike and Daveed to leave us alone for a few moments. They remain outside in the hall when I close the door behind Malia and me. She freezes in place right next to the door, unwilling to step closer when I approach the bed slowly, deliberately.

Lailah is awake, but only barely, her eyelids heavy as she looks at me through half-closed eyes. She smiles when she sees me, a consolation that I didn't know I wanted. Needed. Our relationship hasn't been easy the past few years, spoiled by unrequited feelings and the consequences of mistakes that neither of us can take back. It wasn't easy to push these things aside when I was chosen to train Lailah for her mission, but I managed. We both managed, allowing us to focus on the task at hand.

All that changed when she was diagnosed with cancer. Suddenly, there was a different war to be fought, and as much as she tried to deny it, it’s a fight she can no longer win.

"Nate," she says, her voice sounding louder and more stable than I expected. "What are you doing here? I thought you were on... vacation."

The look she throws at me suggests that she never believed that excuse. She knew I was up to something and possibly ready to leave the Covey for good. Lailah knows more about me than they do. More than any of them—Mike, Daveed, even Big George—none of them know more than she does in regards to my future with the Covey.

And as much as I trust her, it was always my fear that she could just as easily be my demise by spilling my secrets. But she never did. At least so far.

I come to a halt next to her bed, reciprocating the smile she casts at me.

"I'm dying," she says in a matter-of-fact tone. "I'm sorry. I tried, I really did-"

"Stop," I cut her off. "You have nothing to be sorry about. You didn't fail anyone."

"Yes, I did," she insists, scrunching her eyebrows. "I failed you, the Covey, the mission..."

Her eyes trail off, aimlessly wandering around the room until they find Malia, still standing close to the door and so quiet that I almost forgot she was there. Lailah's eyes widen, flitting up and down as she studies Malia from head to toe.

"Holy shit," she gasps. "Did you... clone me?"

Her question makes me laugh, and even Malia lets out a little chuckle behind my back.

"I was thinking the same thing," she says, as she joins me next to Lailah's bed.

The girls’ eyes are locked on each other, taking in one another with palpable fascination. Despite Lailah's weak constitution and her dramatic weight loss, the similarity between the two is still stunning, to say the least. Even the way their black hair curls appears to be identical, if only at first sight. Malia's hair is thicker and her curls are more pronounced than Lailah's ever were, but that is a minute difference only someone like me would notice. Someone who knows both of them well.

Someone who has slept in the same bed as both of them.

"You are the solution," Lailah whispers, her eyes still fixated on Malia. "Right? You are going to take my place?"

She looks at me now, her eyebrows arched quizzically.

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