He released a harsh breath, shaking his head.
“I wish I was better at this—at explaining. I just kept thinking about how I had to keep my own secret for so long. Six years. And then just like that, in a matter of seconds, I had to show you all what I was to get us away from that woman. It was somehow the hardest and easiest decision I’ve ever made, because it meant you would all be safe, but I was so sure it would be over and I’d lose the three of you because you knew.”
“You...in the woods, after the skip tracer tried to take us in,” he said, fitting the right memory together, “when you thought we were going to leave you behind.”
“Yes.” There was a sharp ache in my chest as I said, “But you talked to me, you told me that you all wanted me. You can’t know what that feels like after...after being alone inside of your head for so long. It changed my life. And I know it sounds stupid, but I think part of me felt like I could be that for him. I could help him get to the point where he wasn’t so damn ashamed of what he was, make him feel comfortable about being one of us so he wouldn’t be so alone. It didn’t seem right, you know? He’s still trapped in this in-between space. Not one of us, but not one of the adults.”
“That was by choice,” Liam said. “He could have told us.”
“Did you see how half of the kids reacted when he brought up the Red camp? Olivia? Brett? He didn’t think, Oh, but I’ve proven the stories wrong; he thought, They’ll hate me, they’ll be afraid of me, they’ll never be able to look me in the eye again.”
Liam looked down at his hands again. “Do you still think those things?”
“It comes and goes,” I said quietly. “Sometimes. When I’m with you, I feel like I’m...like a beam of sunlight, you know? You chase the bad things away. With Cole, he understood the dark I could never shake. I used to think he was the kind of person that wasn’t afraid of anything, but he’s scared of his own shadow, Liam. I don’t think I understood until tonight just how scared he was of you really seeing him.”
“But that’s so unfair,” Liam said, his voice strained with a second wave of anger. “I know it’s not right, but I hate him for thinking that me and Mom and Harry—that any of these kids who basically worship the ground he walks on—would love him less. I wish he’d trusted us. He could have had support in this. Nothing’s changed for me.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing,” he repeated vehemently. “Except now I know he wasn’t lighting my toys on fire with matches to be a jerk. I guess that’s something.”
“He couldn’t control it,” I said. “He still struggles with it.”
Liam didn’t look convinced. “By the little demonstration he gave me, you’d never know that.”
“He does,” I insisted. “It depends on the situation.” Like when he’s terrified you’ve been hurt, or you’re dead.
“But if you can learn control, so can he, right?”
“Learning control doesn’t mean people trust you to make good choices, does it?” I felt my voice break halfway through the question, and I immediately regretted having brought it up.
“What are you...oh—you—” Liam’s brows drew together sharply; I watched the anger deflate, and dull shock swept in to take its place. “You found...my note? Ruby, why didn’t you say anything?”
“What could I say? You were right not to trust me. Look at where trusting me before got you.”
“No! Dammit, I should never have written the stupid thing, but I was so sure he would make me leave. That he would convince you I had to leave.” I pulled back, not wanting to hear the explanation, not when the pain still felt as fresh as it had that night. He didn’t let me go. Liam turned to face me fully, and for the first time in what felt like years, touched me, taking my shoulder—or trying to. The moment he flexed his hand he winced. “Ow, dammit—”
“Let me see it.” I took his hand carefully between mine, examining it. The touch was enough to drive my pulse back up, to spark a charge under my skin again. His eyes moved over me; I felt it like a second, sweet touch, and I wondered if he had missed this too, if he’d looked at me and felt the warmth pooling at his center. The need.
He’d broken the skin over his knuckles when he’d struck the wall, but the bleeding had already stopped, and the swelling and bruising had begun. I probed the delicate bones carefully, letting my loose braid fall over my shoulder. His other hand reached for it, took it between his fingers, and ran down its length. I caught my breath as he brushed against my collarbone. Closed my eyes. I felt the warmth around us shift as he leaned toward me, ran his finger along that ridge of exposed skin. I didn’t deserve the tenderness, but it had been so long, and I wanted him too badly to care.
I raised the hand between mine and pressed my lips against the torn knuckles. He closed his eyes and shuddered.
“Not broken,” I whispered against his skin. “Just bruised.”
“What about us?”
The question filled me with equal parts hope and fear. “I can’t forget, can you?”
“Does that matter, though?” he asked. “I don’t want to forget. There’s so much behind us, it’s true, but does it matter if we’re going the same way forward? The past few days have been hell. I see your face and it’s like—I wish—I wish I had never written that stupid note. I wish I had told you about Alice. I just wanted to feel something other than useless. I wanted you to see something good in me.”
“Liam—” My breath hitched. “I’ve never seen anything else. I want so much to have a real life. To be someone who can go home and be with her family again. I thought that I could fix myself and be the kind of person who deserves someone like you. Someone who deserves Zu, Chubs, Vida, Jude, Nico, Cate. I thought I could fix myself with the cure. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, to be done with this. But now, I just want to be kinder to myself. I don’t want anyone to implant anything in my head, or mess with who I am. When all of this is over, however long it takes, I won’t ever have to use my abilities again. But for now I have to, and I have to trust myself to do right by everyone. Tell me what I have to do, to earn the right to have you in my life, and I’ll do it—I’ll do anything—”
Liam’s hand slid up my hair to brush my cheek. Relief, pure and beautiful, bloomed in me as his mouth covered mine. When he pulled back, he watched my reaction carefully. When I offered a small smile, he kissed me again, and my last reservations fell away, shattering. I deepened the kiss, trying to leave him as breathless as I felt.
He pulled back, his face flushed, eyes bright. I knew the look on his face mirrored mine. My whole body was trembling, desperate to continue, to chase the fierce love I felt for him. Carefully avoiding his bad hand, Liam shifted onto his knees and started to rise from the floor, reaching down to help me do the same. He startled suddenly as he caught something at the edge of his vision.
“What is this?” he asked, taking a step closer to the printout taped up to the wall.
“That’s Thurmond,” I said. “Harry was able to work some contact in the government to get the image.”
Liam turned toward me slowly. “That’s...all Thurmond?”
I stepped up next to him, leaning against his shoulder. “Control Tower, Infirmary, Mess Hall, Factory...I labeled them, see?”
He nodded, silent. “Where did you live?”
I reached past where he was standing to one of dozens of tiny brown structures circling the imposing brick tower. “Cabin Twenty-seven, right here.”
“Ruby, this is...all the times you told me about the camp, I knew it was big, but not like...this.” He shook his head, muttering something I couldn’t quite hear under his breath. When he turned to me again, Liam looked stricken.
“Do you see now?” I asked. “If we hit Thurmond, it has to be an assault. It would take hundreds of civilians to overwhelm the PSFs, and that’s only if they can get through the gate. But I like what you guys are trying to do—I think we need to merge the plans. Focus the media blast on Thurmond and release the information in conjunction with the attack. We can use it as an opportunity to set up a meeting point for parents to pick up their kids once we have them out.”