Page 73 of Burn Protocol

“How are your lungs?”

My eyes widen, snapping to Rosa. She shrugs. “Smoke inhalation,” she mouths and my stomach drops.

“All cleared.” Elena doesn’t even bother to turn around.

The nonchalant tone in her voice does nothing to calm me. I press the soles of my feet firmly against the ground and take a deep breath. Not my business. The muscle on my jaw rolls, but I manage to keep my voice steady as I continue my interview with Rosa.

“Anyway, tell me how you convinced her to let you go through with the training.”

Elena’s spine goes rigid at the simple dismissal. Everything inside me wants her to look at me. I quickly avert my gaze back to Fernandes, who, in return, is looking at me intently. She doesn’t say a word but it is clear she is forming an opinion. Does she know about the rumors that are being spread? That Elena and I are involved? Does she believe it? Even if I hope she doesn’t, I can’t blame her if she did. They were true after all, and she is very observant. Her lips purse for a moment, but then turn into a grin.

“I didn’t. I told her I wouldn’t go, then snuck out of the house at the very last minute. I barely made it in time for that first day at the academy. When I called her that evening, she was fuming, but there was not much she could do. I don’t think she thought I would make it through the first two months though… I was a bit of a wildcard,” she grins.

“But you did.”

“Yes, I did, and when I returned home, she had finally realized that this is my calling. She said she couldn’t just see it in my face, but also feel it in my soul.”

I swallow at the words. My eyes drift toward Elena, who looks at me at the same time. A calling. It’s almost as if the word hangs between us, taunting us. What is going on in her mind right now? Do these words strengthen her thoughts about us? Make her feel like she made the right choice? But instead of pride or recognition, I see that desolate look in her eyes—the same one she wore the evening of the metro tragedy. It’s there one moment, and gone the next. Yet it tells me all I need to know. She is hurting too, and somehow that makes everything worse and better all at the same time.

***

Rosa and I finish the interview without further interruption. I’m already putting my stuff away and reaching for my jacket when Díaz and Rodriques walk in. Their eyes briefly flick from me to Elena, who sits on the couch working on some papers. Then they both smirk as they high-five me.

“Glad to see you found your way back. Couldn’t stay away from us young gods, could you?”

I chuckle at Díaz’s joke, and he instantly gets shoved on the shoulder by Rosa, turning my chuckle into a laugh. The knots in my stomach loosen just a little. They sit down and immediately pull the box of pastries toward them while they continue their banter. I can’t help but smile at this warm feeling of camaraderie.

“How’s the article going? Are you going to make Gonzales shine?” Rodriques wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

I am taken aback by the sudden question and inhale sharply. Before I can regain my composure, Elena pushes herself off the couch with a small cough and then marches past us. Her gaze fixed straight ahead, making it a point not to look at me. The pain in my chest is razor-sharp and I am done fighting it.

“Excuse me,” I mutter before following her.

She’s already at the end of the bay when I catch up with her, but Elena isn’t slowing down. Not until I put my hand on her shoulder and she freezes completely. The movement is so sudden that I almost crash into her. I withdraw my hand instantly and put some distance between us.

“I understand you don’t want me here, but I have a job to finish. Just like you.”

Her eyes flash at me, but she remains silent.

“You know what… forget it. I’ll stay away for these last two weeks. All I need is our final interview. You set the date and location, I’ll meet you there. And that will be it.”

I push past her toward the exit.

“You have my number. Text me the details.”

“You have my number. Text me the details.”

Her words cut straight through me. I fight a gasp as she moves toward the exit. If I let her walk now, this is the end. And I really don’t want it to be.

“Maya, wait.”

My voice cracks but carries enough weight to make her stop. She glances over her shoulder. The gesture feels like a slap in my face. Her trust in me gone—everything we had between us broken—and for what? You can’t let it end like this. I close the distance between us and gently brush her elbow with my fingers.

“Please,” I whisper.

When she finally turns, she does so slowly. Her eyes cautious but searching. For the first time in days I get a good look at her. There are dark shadows under her eyes, her cheeks are sunken, and she looks terribly pale. My stomach turns so violently that I fear I’ll throw up. I inhale sharply. This is my doing. I did this to her.

“No…” I exhale, the shock coursing through my body. “God, no…”