I have a retort ready on the tip of my tongue but it dies there. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw—IthoughtI saw—but that’s not possible.
“How do I rewind this clip?” I press the air in front of the screen, swiping and brushing with gusto, but I can’t seem to find the one familiar icon I’m looking for.
“Allow me.” Zane folds my hands in his warm, dry ones. God, can he see the effect one little touch has had on me? But his attention is on the screen as he works to clear all the boxes and menus I opened in my search.
I mentally shake myself. One man cannot distract from the pursuit of justice, even if that man happens to be a particularly gorgeous, wounded anti-hero with a tongue so wicked he could make even the devil blush.
There.
The video may be grainy and monochromatic, the key moment nothing more than a three second blip in a sea of otherwise harmless material, but it’s there, nonetheless. Valentino Vanall pulls a thick envelope from somewhere within the confines of his jacket, smoothly sliding it across the desk’s glossed surface and into Black Monarch’s waiting grasp.
The mayor of New Malcolm hired an assassin.
“When was this?” My head feels a little light. Halos are starting to turn the lights into starbursts.Breathe, Kaye.
Zane sounds so calm when he shatters my delusions. “Two nights ago. I have others, if you’d like to see them. My contact takes great personal risk acquiring them for me. Rendezvous like this one occur roughly every two weeks for the last year at least. Probably longer.”
My face and neck feel scorched with heat, though my fingers and palms feel boneless and numb.
“Kaye?” Cool fingers brush soothing trails up my burning nerves, from shoulder to the sensitive skin just below my earlobe. “You’re all flushed and blotchy. Your pulse is racing.”
“You’re not a doctor. You said so yourself.”
“You need to sit down.”
My chest feels heavy, growing more so with every breath I take. My throat constricts, achy and raw, as if I scraped something along that vulnerable flesh. My dry eyes are strained with adrenaline and grief. If this video is like this, what’s on the others? A wetness that feels suspiciously like tears gathers at the corners of each eyelid, but I don’t have time for that. No time to process the barrage of emotion crashing down on my shoulders.
“I need to know.” I choked on the words until they are little more than a whisper. A whisper that tears through my lungs like a scream.
I’ve sunk to the floor, and Zane is there with me, holding me, curling around my body in a full, protective embrace. How did I get here? My unfeeling legs are folded beneath my bottom. I couldn’t rise up again even if I wanted to. Even if I had that drive. But out of my eyes, my mouth, my lungs, my heart, pours a whimper of despair.
“It’s okay,” Zane murmurs into my hair. His arms wrapped around me at some point when I fell, holding me upright withhis strength. Without it, I have no doubt that I would have laid my head on the ground too, and perhaps decided to stay. That seems easier, doesn’t it? Than this pain. “I’ve got you.”
“It’s true, isn’t it? I was a monster all along.”
“No.” He presses comforting circles into my back.
It hits me then. “I’m the villain.”
“They manipulated you into doing what they wanted. Seeing what they wanted you to see. You didn’t know.”
Does that matter? Evil deeds done in the name of good are still evil. Like the roots of a tree, I envision the consequences of my actions extending out through New Malcolm. To the men, women, and children who make their lives within these limits. I allowed corruption to persist here. Thrive even. I defended those who prey on the vulnerable. How many lives were lost because of my inability to see?
“You can’t think like that.” Zane curls his fingers around my hip, brushing tender strokes onto my skin and drawing my attention. It’s not fair, using his powers at a time like this, but I’m too empty to care.
“You tried to tell me.” I blink at him, make a conscious effort to focus on the fine features of his face. Anything to tether my mind back into myself.
His eyes rove over my face with a soft look, mouth parted ever so slightly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. His palm grazes my cheek as he tucks my hair behind one ear, lingering at the sensitive skin where earlobe meets jawbone.
“I wish you had listened sooner, but I understand now.” His voice is soothing, washing over me with coolness and a wave of shame that settles into the lining of my stomach. The urge to duck my head, to break the intense scrutiny in his gaze, is overpowering. “You can’t change the past, but you can help me now.”
I never wanted to be the villain, but then, maybe villains never do. Is this how it happens? You do the best you can with the knowledge you have at the time, but you continue to make mistakes and you try to learn and grow from them. You redeem yourself only in seeing things from a different perspective. Sometimes you die trying.
“We can still save New Malcolm, Kaye. Together.”
I could do it, couldn’t I? Even if I could turn my back on New Malcolm, I can’t ignore my responsibility to its people.
I feel it, growing from the lining of shame inside me. A kernel of something unquenchable and hard as steel.
