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He doesn’t know a bloody thing about my guilt, about the things I’ve done to deserve it.
“Oh, I have plenty of remorse, and every bit of it is for not ending them before they could steal and hurt more children,” I hiss, wrenching my hand away from him. “Don’t forget who the real victims are here, Remy. Why don’t you try applying your mercy to them?”
“Mercy isn’t some finite resource, Gemma. Did you ever stop to think that not every person in that bar was even guilty? Maybe they had families, children.”
A chill runs through me, his words sounding far too close to what Zaina would have said. The thought of her sobers me a little, and my next words come out softer.
“Don’t fool yourself, Remy. We all have choices, and every person in that tavern chose to be there. When you decide to work with people like that, you get what’s coming to you eventually.”
I close my eyes at that, the words hitting a little too close to home. Before I can dwell any further on that, the faraway sound of the guards reaches us.
“Just in time to save the day.” My voice drips with sarcasm. “I suppose that’s my cue to leave. Oh, but feel free to fester in your own self-loathing at the wanton slaughter of an innocent band of child slavers.” I turn to go, and Remy moves like he might stop me.
I raise my eyes to meet his in a silent challenge.
“I told you—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“I know what you said, but the fact is that you owe me a life. I just saved yours back there, in case you were too busy proselytizing to notice.”
A heartbeat passes, and we both know I could kill him if I wanted to. We both know he could call out for the guards if he wanted to. Still, we stand deadlocked until he nods.
“Sure, Gemma. For old time’s sake, then.” He strives for his usual sarcastic tone, but it’s coated in bitterness. “A life for a life. But next time—”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Remy. There won’t be a next time,” I interrupt.
“Because you’re going to stop?”
Everything in me balks at his question for reasons I can’t quite understand. The reality is that I don’t have much of a choice now that he knows who I am and Damian is on my trail, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that.
“Because I’m not so easy to pin down.”
“Don’t I know.” He says the words quietly, as if they’re more for himself than for me.
Looking back, it seems like it was always inevitable that we would wind up here, on opposite sides of a city on fire. He is a guard, and I am one of the most notorious criminals in the kingdom. Everything we ever imagined between us was based on a game, on a series of crafted lies.
Even if it did feel real sometimes.
The pounding of footsteps thunders closer to the alleyway, and I take one last look at Remy, remembering the first night we met.
“Deal me in.” The boy who’s been watching me play all night finally meets my eyes, slapping his ante in the center of the table.
“Or I could save you the time and just take your coin now,” I offer.
“And deprive you of your first interesting game of the night? I could never.” He looks at the men seated on either side of the table before adding, “No offense.”
And sands help me, I can’t help the rare, genuine smile that spreads across my face.
He eyes me with undisguised intrigue and amusement, and I know that even though I’ve been baiting him all night, even though I wanted him to come over here, this is a terrible idea.
And it’s going to end badly.
I was right about that, at least.
As he holds my stare, I get the sense he’s reliving that same night, or one of our many others. All traces of anger have vanished from his features, replaced with a sour sort of regret.
I think about the fundamental things he doesn’t begin to understand, the things he’s been too sheltered to notice or care about, and I can’t help but return the sentiment.
Even if it hurts more than I’m willing to admit to myself to walk away from him again.
“Have a nice life, Remy.”
