I bit out harshly, when surely Hunt didn’t deserve it. But everything that came out of me since the doomed race at the crossroads was harsh. Whatever softness I had, if any remained, was beyond my reach, even for the friends I knew to be suffering as much as I was.
I insisted.
Hunt said.
I insisted.
Again we settled into a disturbed quiet. Every cough or cleared throat, every rustle of the uniformly black attire of the other “funeral” attendees, grated on my nerves like the touch of an open flame.
Layla said, dipping her hand under her veil to itch her nose. Or maybe it was to blot it. My girl didn’t like to let on when she cried, especially not around her brother.
So far, I’d caught Brady crying more than she had.
As for me, I was too empty to cry. Too dry to have anything to unleash beyond anger. Of that, I had enough to burn down everysingle building in Ridgemore, including the entirety of Magnum’s pretty new institute. Oh yes, I’d roast marshmallows as it burned. But first, I’d trap him inside the sleek modern design I’d been foolish enough to admire.
From the relative privacy afforded by my dark sunglasses, I studied him. Taller than our fake parents, he stood out as he nestled among them, as if they truly were all chums from way back. Not the boss and his bitches. Not psycho murderer and his underlings. Crazed maniac who wanted actual superpowers for himself and didn’t care how many people he had to mow down to get them.
Dressed in impeccably tailored black, he stared back at me despite the anonymity of my lenses. Ever so subtly, his head tipped. He was dissecting me from afar, always seeking more data, more advantage, more rewards from his highly unethical experiments.
Magnum possessed more money and resources than sanity, and enough charisma to convert zealots to his cause, making him very,verydangerous.
I offered miserably into our group bond.
Layla shook her head, her veil swaying. A warning not to betray that we were having private conversations slid to the edge of my tongue, where it withered. What did it matter anymore? Whatever advantage we’d worked so hard to preserve was meaningless when we couldn’t even save one of our own.
Layla said. My body stiffened so abruptly that Magnum may have noticed.
Brady corrected.
she snapped into our chat.
Some of the tension drained from my body, leaving behind that constant anger, and a bone-deep weariness I wouldn’t succumb to. If I did, it would feel too much like surrendering.
I’d give up on Griff over my dead body.
I said.
Brady snarled.
Yes.I could absolutely get behind the Get Griffin Back Tonight Plan. There was just one huge, major problem.
I asked. I chuffed darkly, brazenly, uncaring that several of our pretend parents joined Magnum in studying us, all while keeping their faces poised in careful masks that saidWe care. We’re heartbroken too.
We were glaringly outmatched. We’d actually stashed defibrillator paddles in Clyde’s trunk, laboring under the illusion that they’d make a difference, that we had a backup plan.
What we’d had was fuck all. You can’t exactly defibrillate lumps of flesh—even if the paddles had survived the explosion, which they surely hadn’t. Nothing had survived.
Just Griffin, I reminded myself urgently, forcefully.He survived, dammit. He did!
Before my friends could encourage me with a hitherto unthought-of yet sensible course of action to retrieve Griffin’s body—which surelywasn’tin the coffin despite appearances, since Magnum and team would never give up all that coveted biological material that they could perform tests on—the priest finally shut his yap. A heavy hush blanketed our gathering as the coffin, gleaming in the sunshine, was lowered into the hole that was intended to hold Griffin’s body for eternity.
Despite my unwavering assurance that the man I loved lived—he’s alive, he is—my shoulders trembled as the shiny wood inched below ground level.
Hunt wrapped an arm around me, tugging me against him. Brady hugged Layla, who for the first time in years didn’t shrug off her twin’s touch, slumping into him. Brady shuffled them closer to Hunt and me.
When the coffin settled with a muffled thud, my shoulders shuddered another time. Suddenly, all the tears I hadn’t shed crowded against the back of my eyeballs, like a torrent rushing a dam too weak to hold back the storm.
Hunt pulled me closer, held me tighter. My face burrowed against his chest, though it wouldn’t be shield enough from all the busybodies here to watch the show of our hearts breaking—courtesy of Magnum fucking Chase, yet again.
