Page 82 of Martyr
“Was there anyone in VIP?” Apollo asks.
“Two. They were drunk, don’t even think they knew there was trouble till I shot the first one.”
Oye.
We make it to the dance floor, which is empty except for a body.
Not a body.
Saint.
Saint is on the floor, curled on his side, and he’s not moving.
“Oh God.” I shove my gun into my brother’s chest and rush across the dance floor, falling to my knees at his side. “Please be alive. Please be alive.”
I push his shoulder and roll him onto his back. It takes me a second to rip through the Velcro of his vest and get access to his chest. I pat him down, feeling for blood, for any wetness, but there’s nothing. Thereisblood on his temple, nearly blending in with his dark hair.
“Saint,” I choke out. I put my fingers to his throat and pray for a pulse.
I hardly believe it when I feel it.
He lets out a low groan, his brows furrowing. He opens his eyes slowly, blinking rapidly.
I lean over him, torn between shaking him for scaring me and?—
His blue eyes lock on to my face, and he smiles.
Smiles?
“Tem,” he breathes.
Something in the way he says it makes my throat close.
He touches my cheek, but he doesn’t seem all here. His arm falls to the floor, his body going limp. His eyes roll back, and he passes out again.
35SAINT
I remember everything.
36ARTEMIS
We move Saint—okay,Reese and Kade move Saint—up to one of the VIP sections. The whole way up, I have flashbacks to Jace and Wolfe carrying in Nyx. We brought her here after she died, covered her in a sheet… It was traumatic. We were all watching Saint like he was made of glass, waiting for him to shatter.
Apollo and I had missed it. Her death, I mean. We’d missed it because we were off in another part of Sterling Falls, investigating the closed, abandoned subway tunnels. And nearly getting blown up in the process.
I thoughtwehad it rough, and then the ground dropped out from below me when I learned about my best friend.
I brush a tear away, and Reese looks over at me. When they’ve set down Saint, he approaches and wraps his arms around me. I sink into his hug and exhale roughly. His scent, the cedar and smoke I’m so familiar with, is buried under gunpowder. But it’s still there.
He didn’t used to smell like that. In Terror, he had a different aftershave. His taste has refined… or he wanted to separate his current self from the boy who was forced to participate.
“You okay?” he asks the top of my head.
“Getting there.”
After another minute, I straighten. I unstrap my Kevlar vest and remove the rest of the weapons, setting everything down on another table. I take inventory of the ammo I used, the magazine and a half left remaining. The longer I fiddle with everything, the less my hands shake.
Jace comes over and sits across from me. He watches me silently, but Ifeelhis quiet judgment. I’m the one who brought Gabriel back, after all. I’m the one who thought he could be redeemed.
