“Zayne…” The broken whisper undid the tiny steps he'd managed to take away from her.
Please.
The word throbbed in the thick sea of blood and spread through every droplet, vibrating against his skin.
Kira didn't say it, but he felt it.
Please.
His mother whispered in his ear. He was too deep in the blood to hear it, but her muffled voice tried to break through to him.
He relented and followed the draw across the balcony until he stood close enough to hold her if he let himself.
It all hurt so badly.
Kira wiped her cheeks, hands trembling. She breathed hard enough that he knew she fought back sobs.
“Give me just a little bit of it.” She looked up into his eyes and lifted that shaking hand between them. Hesitant, but driven, Kira settled her palm against his heart. “Please let me carry a little of the pain.”
Those tears glistening on her cheeks were for him, weren't they? Kira was crying for him because he'd lost the only person he let himself love without reservation.
He couldn't speak. Was afraid to hear his own voice.
An endless pit of despair opened inside him, and he gazed into dark, unknown depths. Mom was gone, and she'd never live to see him become the man she stubbornly believed he'd one day be.
Dizziness disoriented him. The sorrow remained, but Zayne broke free of the prison to watch it from above his body. Detached.
“You have enough of your own pain to carry,” he said on numb lips. “You're struggling.”
Her nails scratched into his chest and tugged him back toward his body. “It hurts less to carry it together.”
Forget the camera and the Phaedra's sick satisfaction.
Chest aching, Zayne worked his arms around Kira and bent to settle his cheek against her head. Once again, he learned how it felt to hold her.
So soft. Her face in the crook of his neck, her touch on his chest, her presence.
Holding her felt as necessary and dangerous as dangling off buildings together that night.
“Everything is ready,” he whispered, hands resting lightly against her back, when he wanted to smooth them along her. “Two more nights.”
Her fists closed around his shirt.
“Your friends will be safe,” he said.
“And you? Brock?” Her quiet voice trembled.
“Yes. We have a good plan. Don't be scared.”
Kira eased back to see his face, still in his arms. The blood was too thick between them. He didn't try to breathe.
They held each other a while longer until it was time to leave.
When Zayne tore himself away, he knew he needed to clear his mind. Instead of going home, he traveled to one of the training centers and filled his mandatory hours for the day with obstacle courses that let him rehearse every move he'd make. To map it out and practice until it was perfect.
He needed to exhaust himself. He was too heightened today. Half an hour into the workout, his mind was still churning.
How could he leave Andi and his nieces without saying goodbye? Especially after losing Mom. What kind of brother and uncle abandoned them during a time like this? He didn't want to hurt his father, either. Didn't want to disappoint him.
