Page 208 of Caelum

He shrugged. “No way of knowing. We got out of there the instant we were conscious.” He released an irritated breath. “Had to be someone with access to the kitchen?—”

“Which is everyone,” I interjected with a snort. “Goodness, everyone is in and out of there at their stomach’s demand.”

Eren winced. “True. It’s not a student. The gates were wide open, and you know they’re only open if it’s time for graduation or induction.”

I’d never seen anyone graduate, but I’d gone through the induction and the gates had been open for that, so I took his word for it.

“Someone betrayed Caelum?” I whispered, my voice breaking at the thought.

So many people lived there, depended on the Academy, and someone from inside its bosom was a traitor.

“We should be there—helping out,” I stated after a second.

“No. It was the perfect time to leave,” he instantly countered. “IfCaelum has been compromised, you’re in danger there. Not only that, but we could leave unseen amid the chaos.”

“What if they blame us? It’s a weird time to leave. It looks odd.”

“With your powers, we can’t go back there anyway. If they blame us, they’re shortsighted and need to investigate these situations better.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you remember what happened after I sang to you?”

I tried to think back but it was pointless. My brain felt as though it had been blended, like one of Stefan’s protein shakes. “No.”

“There were nearly two dozen helicopters heading our way, Eve. They were in McAllister colors.”

“McAllister? The nest?” I squeaked, then I wondered out loud, “How can a nest have colors?”

He sighed. “Of all the things you focus on, that’s one of them?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t know they had colors.”

“Well, they do. They also have their version of a crest. Most Ghouls, even the grunts, the pecus, have one. They usually wear them on rings.”

“There’s still so much I don’t know about Ghouls,” I said uneasily.

“We’re here for that. You’re not on your own, Eve.”

“Thank God.” I brushed his cheek again, and though my fingers were still held captive by his, I wanted the connection. He seemed to sense that because he dropped his head forward until my forehead touched his. As our breath mingled, I whispered, “We almost died tonight.”

He swallowed. “Yes.”

“You saved us, didn’t you?”

There was a starkness in his eyes that hurt something inside me. “It seemed like I was one of the only ones to be least affected by the drugs.”

“Why?”

“After my parents died and I moved into my sister’s home, I had bad nightmares and I rarely slept. They used to drug me.” He blew out a breath, which was scented of the licorice he favored. “It worked for a while, but my souls seemed to burn through it.”

“They tried so many drugs on you that you grew tolerant of them?” I knew my voice was a high-pitched squeak, but I couldn’t control my bewilderment.

“The little I slept, those hours were plagued with nightmares that had me screaming down the house.” He swallowed thickly. “I’m sure they felt like they had no other option.”

No other option?

I’d show them an option.

Who did that? Who drugged a child with medication so strong that, as an adult, whatever the traitor had used to knock us out wouldn’t affect him?

It didn’t even matter that I should have been grateful for his tolerance. We were only alive because of it, but I hurt for him, so damn much that I felt like crying.

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