Page 104 of Retrograde

Why does it feel like torture? Why is this raw ache the worst thing I’ve felt in my whole life?

“You don’t know what it’s like,” I snarl at Alex, my voice breaking.

“I do,” he counters grimly. “But she’s out of your reach now. You can’t help her. And we must relocate. You know I’m right.”

I do know that. His words penetrate the fog and breach that part of my mind that can still think clearly, even now. Especially now.

And that part is telling me there is only one possible reason why I’d rather tear my own heart out than let them have her for one more minute.

The realisation is staggering and more terrifying than life and death and everything in between. But at the same time, it feels like nothing more consequential than opening the door of a familiar house.

Finding what I’ve always known I would find on its other side.

Something I was just too stubborn to admit to myself until now.

Riley is under my skin. She is constantly on my mind, whether I want her to be or not. She is who I think of when I wake up, and every night I fall asleep with her name on my lips.

And now, at last, there’s no way for me to hide from the truth.

She’s right in the centre of my breaking, bleeding heart.

Reminding me, all too fucking late, that I have one.

By nightfall, we’re all back at the caves and nearly packed and ready to go. The roar of engines fills the air, light from headlamps spilling across the exit passageway, dust rising from underneath the boots of rushing feet.

I’m not really here anymore. I’m a ghost, wandering a different plane than those still living.

My mind is reeling. I’m going round in circles. This is ... my fucking fault. I drove her away. With the words that I said, the way I treated her. The way I wounded her. The way I made her think that facing all the danger out there was better than facing me. She ran away because I was more worried about losing my face and my pride than I was about losing her.

I’m done with the last sweep of the place. I’m walking back towards the cluster of bikes and men impatient to get out when my eyes land on two clean, unmasked figures approaching me. They’re just silhouettes, but I recognise them all too well. And I know everything’s about to get much worse.

“Hi, Lena,” I greet the smaller one neutrally, but have nothing but a snarl for the taller one. “Tristan.”

“Krasnik.” His voice is low and cold, the movement of his lips barely perceptible in the groomed expanse of his full beard.

His eyes are pitch black, inscrutable and severe under the steeply arched eyebrows. Our gazes clash. I hold his glare for awkwardly long, refusing to give up.

Lena steps from one foot to the other.

“What the fuck happened, Krasnik?” he finally asks. “How the fuck could you let her run?”

His words are a knife to the gut, his accusation punching all the air out of my lungs. I can’t even formulate a fucking response. I just gape at him.

“Oh, Aron,” Lena tuts gently. “You idiot.”

“Yes, that is correct. You idiot!” Tristan repeats after her, but in a very different tone. “Do you have any idea how many pardons we could have exchanged her for?”

“What?” I ask dumbly. I’m too keyed up to even bother trying to understand what the fuck he’s saying.

“Hell, if what Phoenix said about Volker being as obsessed with her as you are is true, we may even have had a chance to come to a truce. And you squandered it.”

Lena hisses with a sharp intake of breath. His words finally register. My anger flares, then fades into something cold and far more lethal.

“You,” I growl. “You would have sold her for a truce? A fucking truce with the fucking Continuum?”

“Yes, I would have sold her for a truce!” he snaps at me impatiently. “One bitch of questionable loyalty in exchange for fuck knows how many of our lives saved? Of course I would have!”

“Did you know about this?” I turn to Lena, my tone measured.