“Are you okay? Should we go talk in my room?”
Glass glanced over at Carter, summoning her anger and hatred for him to the surface, letting it boil her blood. She stood up.
“I’m not going into your room,” she said, forcing an edge into her voice she didn’t recognize. “Ever again.”
“What? What’s wrong?” Luke asked. He gently pulled on her hand but she snatched it away. “Glass?” The confusion in his voice was enough to make her heart throb.
“It’s over,” she said, shocked at the coldness in her own voice. A strange numbness spread through her, as if her nerves were shutting down to protect her from the grief that would surely destroy her. “Did you really think it was going to last?”
“Glass.” Luke’s voice was low and strained. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but could we continue this conversation in my room?” He reached out to place his hand on her arm, and she recoiled from his touch.
“No.” She pretended to shudder in horror, looking away so that he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “I can’t believe I let you take me in there in the first place.”
Luke fell silent, and Glass couldn’t help glancing back at him. He was staring at her, his eyes full of hurt. He had always worried that he wasn’t good enough for Glass—that he was keeping her from a better life on Phoenix. And now here she was, using the same fears she had once dismissed to turn Luke against her. “Is that really how you feel?” he asked finally. “I thought we—Glass, I love you,” he said helplessly.
“I never loved you.” She forced the words out of her mouth with such intensity, they seemed to tear out her very soul. “Don’t you see? This was all just a game to me, seeing how long I could go on before I got caught. But I’m done now. I’m bored.”
Luke reached up to take her chin, turning her face up so that their eyes met. She could feel him searching her for some sign that the real Glass was hidden deep inside. “You don’t mean that.” His voice cracked. “I don’t know what’s going on, but this isn’t you. Glass, talk to me. Please.”
For a "-1ing onbrief moment, Glass wavered. She could tell him the truth. Of course he would understand; he would forgive all the terrible things she’d just said. She would lean her head on his shoulder and pretend that everything would be okay. They could face this together.
But then she thought of Luke being executed—the lethal injection shutting down his body before it was released into the cold emptiness of space.
The only way to save Luke’s heart was to break it.
“You don’t even know me,” she said, jerking away from his touch, the pain of her grief slicing sharp and hot through her chest. “Here,” she finished, blinking back tears as she reached behind her neck to unhook the clasp of her locket. “I don’t want this anymore.”
As she dropped it into Luke’s hand he stared at her wordlessly, shock and hurt etched in sharp lines across his face.
She was only vaguely aware of running out of the door and slamming it shut, and then she was racing down the hall, concentrating on the thud of her steps across the skybridge. Left, right, left, right. Just get home, Glass told herself. Just get home, and then you can cry.
But the moment she turned the corner, she staggered and slid to the floor, both hands clutching her stomach. “I’m sorry,” Glass whispered softly, uncertain whether she was speaking to the baby, or Luke, or her own bruised and damaged heart.
ʀublishe
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CHAPTER 21
Clarke
The tension in the infirmary tent was so thick, Clarke could practically feel it pressing against her chest when she breathed.
She hovered wordlessly at Thalia’s side, trying in vain to battle the infection that had already claimed her kidneys and seemed hell-bent on taking her liver next, seething in silent fury at Octavia’s selfishness. How could she sit there, watching Thalia slip in and out of consciousness, and not return the stolen medicine?
But then she glanced over to the corner, where Octavia lay curled up. The sight of her round cheeks and thick lashes made her look painfully young, and Clarke’s anger was replaced by doubt and guilt. Maybe Octavia hadn’t done it. But if not, who had?
Her eyes lowered to the bracelet that encased her wrist. If Thalia could just hold on until the next wave of colonists arrived, she’d be okay. But there was no knowing when that would be. The Council would wait until they had conclusive data on the radiation levels, regardless of what was happening on Earth.
Thalia’s death, she knew, would matter as little to the Council as Lilly’s had. Orphans and criminals didn’t count.
As she watched Thalia’s labored breathing, Clarke felt a surge of white-hot fury. She refused to sit here and just wait for her friend to die. Hadn’t humans cured illnesses for millennia before the discovery of penicillin? There had to be something in the woods that fought infection. She tried to remember what little she’d learned about plants in Biology of Earth class. Who knew if those plants were even around anymore—everything seemed tnt siess, o have evolved strangely after the Cataclysm. But she had to at least try.
“I’ll be back,” she whispered to her sleeping friend. Without a word to the Arcadian boy standing guard outside, Clarke hurried out of the infirmary and began to walk toward the trees, not bothering to grab anything from the supply tent lest she attract any unwanted attention. But she didn’t manage to go more than ten meters without a familiar voice scratching at her eardrums.
“Where are you going?” Wells asked as he fell in step next to her.
“Looking for medicinal plants.” She was too tired to lie to Wells, and it didn’t matter anyway; he always saw through her lies. Somehow, the self-righteousness that blinded him to the most glaring truths didn’t prevent him from reading the secrets in her eyes.
“I’ll come with you.
” “I’m fine on my own, thanks,” Clarke said, increasing her pace, as if that could possibly deter the boy who’d traveled across the solar system to be with her. “You stay here in case they need someone to lead an angry mob.”
“You’re right. Things got a little out of hand last night,” he said with a frown. “I didn’t mean for anything bad to happen to Octavia. I only wanted to help. I know you need that medicine for Thalia.”
“You only wanted to help. I’ve heard that one before.” Clarke whipped around to face Wells. She didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with his need for redemption right now. “Guess what, Wells. Someone ended up Confined this time too.”
Wells stopped in his tracks, and Clarke jerked her head away, unable to look at the hurt in his eyes. But she refused to let him make her feel guilty. Nothing she could say to him could begin to approximate the pain he’d caused her.
Clarke stared straight ahead as she strode into the trees, still half expecting to hear the thud of footsteps behind her. But this time there was only silence.
By the time she reached the creek, the fury Clarke had carried into the woods had been replaced by despair. The scientist in her was mortified by her own naïveté. It was foolish to think that she would somehow recognize a plant from a class she’d taken six years ago, let alone that it would even look the same after all this time. But she refused to turn back, restrained partly by her own stubborn pride and partly by a desire to avoid Wells for as long as possible.