Page 82 of Nemesis

The same voice that tells me to hurt myself.

I need to get us out of here, another voice says. The rational one.

Instead, I pass out.

23ARTEMIS

Everything hurts.

There’s a glow of warm light coming from over my head, and it takes several long minutes to work up the courage to open both eyes at once. And longer still to piece together what happened right before I lost consciousness.

The bike… riding through West Falls… the wire across the road.

Apollo’s motorcycle was caught up easily in the trap, and I flew over the handlebars. My head—thankfully in a helmet—slammed into the asphalt, and I slid on the road. Everything hurt, and I cursed myself for not wearing my leather gear.

An outfit I always wore when I was riding onmybike—but taking Apollo’s was a spur-of-the-moment thing. It felt like fate that my helmet was in the backseat of my car.

Those guys grabbed me. Yanked my cracked helmet off, pulled at my hair and my clothes. I tried to fight, and someone swung something at my head.

I touch my forehead gingerly, wincing at the resulting pain. But my fingertips brush a bandage instead of blood.

Also, I’m inside, not left forgotten and bleeding on the side of the road.

I shift, and something warm lands on my shin. I freeze and slowly lift my head.

My legs are on Saint’s lap.

His hand is on my leg.

I glance around, unfortunately immediately recognizing where we are.

Nyx’s old place. She grew up here until she moved in with Saint, and her parents moved out of Sterling Falls… She let the guys use this house.

I must’ve driven through the neighborhood, although I don’t think I was on this road.

So how did I end up here?

His head is tipped back against the couch, his mouth open as he breathes deeply.

Carefully, I lift my legs and put my feet on the floor. He didn’t take my shoes off, which is good of him. I sit up and immediately have a wave of vertigo.

I squeeze my eyes shut and count to five.

Doesn’t help.

Instead of standing, I slide off the couch and sit on the floor. Breathing doesn’t help either. I mean, breathing keeps me alive, but it still feels a bit like I’m standing on the bow of a ship at sea.

In a storm.

Stop the ride, I want to get off.

My stomach turns, and I force my eyes open. I’m going to puke in approximately thirty seconds. Without thinking, I scramble for the bathroom and throw my body in. I don’t even get a chance to flip the light switch.

Vomit is probably my least favorite thing on the planet. The way my whole body tenses up, the headache immediately worsens. I clutch at the edges of the toilet.

The door opens behind me.

Saint, obviously.

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