I set the phone down and stood because my body had too much energy in it. I crossed to the window, lit a cigarette, and looked down over Harlan.
The city was behaving today because I had made several people bleed yesterday and apparently that had restored civic discipline.
Good for the city.
Bad for my mood.
Behind me, the phone buzzed again. I turned so fast ash fell onto the floor.
Sienna.
Okay.
One word gave me too much relief. It meant somewhere inside the ruin I had made, there was still a door that might open if I learned how not to break the handle off trying to get in.
I picked up the phone and read it until the letters stopped looking like letters.
Then I did something pathetic.
I saved a screenshot. Immediately deleted it because I was not completely insane. Then restored it from recently deleted because apparently I was.
Her okay meant hope. So yes, I was that desperate for it.
I started to think what did I do write next. Every message sounded wrong.
Are you okay?
Fucking stupid. She was not okay. I knew she was not okay. I had helped make her that way.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard.
I typed:
I owe you—
Deleted.
I typed:
I have been trying—
Deleted.
I typed:
I am sorry for—
The phone buzzed in my hand.
Marcel sent a message requesting a meeting now.
No indication of whether someone had died, betrayed us, or simply irritated him enough that he wanted witnesses.
I locked my phone, stood, and left Sienna’s unfinished apology sitting in my pocket.
Marcel was in a mood when I arrived at his office.
He stood at the windows, hands clasped behind his back, looking down over Harlan.