Page 48 of Reaper

“He came back,” I whisper.

“Yes.” He shakes his head as if he still can’t believe it.

“You brought him back from death. He’salive because of you.” It’s not a question. It’s a realization.

“Because of whatever is inside me. I’m one with darkness, Lexi. We’re bound together.” He turns his face away, but I cup his cheek, drawing him back.

“What you have inside you is a gift,” I say firmly, though my mind reels with the implications. “You saved him.”

“Or cursed him,” he mutters, but I shake my head.

“No, never think that. He owes you his life.”

“He could have been left in peace, but I brought him back into that hellish basement. We were trapped there for another couple of years before we escaped.”

“Do the others know about this?” I ask.

“Yes. We’re all special in some way. The abuse did that to us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Scar sees people’s intentions and plans. That’s how we got out of the dungeon. Scar found out when Blackstone would be gone. Talon can talk to animals, which was another reason we escaped.”

“What about Nitro?”

“Nitro’s a medical intuitive. He feels other people’s pain in his body. He can diagnose illnesses before anyone else.”

“And Matrix?”

“Astral projection.”

“What’s that?”

“He can leave his body and go to other places. He can watch and listen to anything in another room, even if he’s not in it.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It’s not. It’s real. I’ve watched him do it. He knows things he couldn’t possibly know unless he was in the room.”

“That’s … I don’t even know what to say.” I shake my head slowly.

“Don’t say anything. I probably shouldn’t have told you any of this, but you deserve to know about me.”

I’m propped up against the headboard, the sheets a tangled mess around us. My mind whirls as I try to make sense of what Reaper just revealed to me. It’s like he’s opened the door to a world I never knew existed—one that both terrifies and fascinates me.

“Tell me more,” I urge him. “How exactly do you bring something back from the dead? Is it really just as easy as calling out to them and finding their life thread?”

Reaper shifts beside me, the muscles in his arms flexing as he props himself up on one elbow. His gaze is distant, like he’s sifting through memories to find the right words.

“It’s not just about bringing something back,” he begins. “It’s about connection. There must be something left to reach for. A spark that hasn’t quite gone out. If someone or somethinghas been dead for longer than an hour, I can’t bring them back.”

I pull my knees up to my chest, feeling vulnerable in the face of such power. “And you can feel it? This … spark?”

“Yeah.” He nods slowly, his eyes meeting mine. They’re dark pools of mystery, and I’m drawn into their depths. “It’s like a hum, a vibration only I can sense. I latch onto it, amplify it until it fills whatever’s empty, until life rushes back in.”

“Does it hurt?” The question slips out before I can stop it, but it’s important. I need to know the cost of wielding such an ability.

“Like hell,” he admits, and there’s a shadow that passes over his features. “Every time, it rips me apart and puts me back together. But it’s worth it when it means saving someone who still has a chance.”

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