Page 25 of Twisted Truths
There’s that word again.
Knew.
People are staring, so I turn my head away from their prying eyes, burying my head in the crook of his neck.
“She was my friend.” I don’t know why I’m admitting this to him, but it feels important.
He sighs, his warm breath feathering over the top of my head. “I’m glad she had someone.”
“How?” I whisper, my voice muffled against his shirt. The material is wet. I hadn’t realised tears were rolling down my cheeks.
“It’s not important.” His tone is gruff, in contrast to the tender way he’s holding me.
“How?” I demand, my voice splintering. “Please, Gabriel.”
His heart races under my palm as he leans down to murmur in my ear. “She was murdered.”
Murdered.
The word rolls around in my mind like a storm, tumbling and crashing against my thoughts.
She was murdered.
I’m no longer safe.
“I’m going to find who did it,” his hoarse whisper is only meant for me. “I swear, they’ll pay.”
The world tilts and everything goes black.
I’min my bed when I wake, a cool cloth resting on my forehead. Turning my head, I find Gianna on her bed,reading a book. The soft glow of her bedside lamp causes shadows to dance across the room, and I wonder how long I’ve been out.
“What happened?” I croak out, wincing at the dryness in my throat.
“You fainted.” She closes her book and sits up, hiding it beneath her mattress before moving to the side of her bed so she’s facing me. “Guardian Gabriel reamed Ascendent Sierra for not ensuring you ate before you left for the market this morning, though it’s not like he gave you any warning of your change in role.”
Manoeuvring into a sitting position, I wait for the dizziness to pass before I reach for the glass of water next to my bed and gulp it down greedily.
“He left food and said to make sure you eat.” Gianna points at the plate of fruit on my bedside table.
An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. “Why?”
She shrugs. “So you don’t faint again, I guess.”
Ascendent Sierra calls for Gianna, Brielle, and Samantha to attend Sunday Confessional.
I move to the edge of my bed, closing my eyes briefly to fight off my wooziness, but Gianna shakes her head and offers me a kind smile. “You’ve been excused for tonight. Rest up.”
“Thanks,” I say, reaching for a grapefruit as she closes the door.
The moment the sweet juice of the fruit hits my tongue, I gasp, choking as I breathe it into my windpipe. Memories from this morning rush back to me, each image a shard of glass cutting through the fog.
Gabriel.
Nash.
Zara.
I stifle the gut-wrenching sob that escapes my lips as griefwashes over me. Zara was murdered. She’s not coming back for us. I bury my head in my blankets and cry for my friend.
