Page 29 of Saint’s Revenge

"No. But it means you didn't waste the chance you got." I reach for his hand. He crosses back to the bed immediately, takes it. "You left and you built something good. That matters, Lucas. Even if it doesn't feel like enough."

He closes his eyes. Squeezes my hand. "When you called yesterday morning, I thought maybe I was hallucinating. Five years of nothing and suddenly your voice in my ear."

"I was terrified you wouldn't answer."

"I almost didn't. Unknown number. Could have been anyone." He opens his eyes. They're wet. "But something made me pick up anyway. And then I heard you say my name and everything just... stopped."

"I didn't know if you'd come. If you'd even believe me."

"I wasn’t sure." His voice is firm. "But at the same time… It’s you, right? You wouldn't have called unless it was the only option left. And because I know you, Riley. Better than almost anyone. I knew you wouldn't give up Daniel's location unless you'd already exhausted every other possibility."

"I should have called sooner."

"Maybe. Or maybe you called exactly when you were ready to." He sits back down on the edge of the bed. Careful not to jostle me. "Either way, you called. And I came. And now we're both here trying to figure out what comes next."

"What does come next?" I ask him.

"Right now? You heal. You rest. You let me take care of you the way I should have been doing all along." His thumb brushes across my knuckles. "After that... We’ll see."

"We’ll see."

He pulls back slowly and wipes his eyes. Tries to compose himself and mostly fails.

"I need to shower," he says. His voice is rough. "I smell like smoke and blood, and I'm getting it all over you."

"I don't care."

"I do." He stands. "Canvas or Eden will check on you while I'm gone. If you need anything before I get back, there's a call button next to the bed."

"Lucas?"

He looks back.

"I'm glad you found this place. I'm glad Phoenix gave you a chance." My voice cracks slightly. "I'm glad one of us got out when we did."

"Me too," he says. "Even though it meant leaving you behind. Even though it's something I'll have to live with for the rest of my life. I'm glad I survived long enough to come back when you needed me."

Then he's gone, and I'm alone with the monitors, the morphine drip and the knowledge that the boy I loved became a man who saves lives.

Maybe that's what surviving does to people. Changes them into something better than what they were. And maybe, just maybe, these new versions of ourselves can build something that lasts.

Chapter 7 - Saint

The shower doesn't help.

I stand under the spray for what feels like hours, water so hot it turns my skin red, and it doesn't wash away a goddamn thing. The blood comes off easy enough, swirls down the drain in rusty streaks until the water runs clear. The ash and soot take longer, clinging to my hair and the creases of my skin like they're trying to brand me with what I did.

But the guilt? That stays.

I close my eyes and immediately see Daniel's face. Not Demon's, Daniel's. My brother's. The way he looked in those last thirty seconds when the bravado fell away and all that was left was a scared kid who didn't want to die alone.

*I'm scared, Lucas.*

I brace my hands against the tile wall. Let the water beat down on my shoulders and back. Try to breathe through the tightness in my chest that has nothing to do with broken ribs or physical injury.

I killed my brother.

Put a bullet in his chest and watched the light leave his eyes while he apologized for things he'd done and things he'd become. Held him while he died because he was terrified and I couldn't let him face that alone.