“I won’t let that happen, Ben. I promise.” And before I can say anything else, his shallow breathing subsides and there is nothing, nothing. His body isn’t his anymore. It’s not him. His eyes are blank before I can ever thank him for his sacrifice, for saving Max, for saving Abel.
Max. I stand and run to where Max lays unconscious. I search Issachar for an answer. “He’s going to be okay. The bullet passed through his ribcage. He’ll only suffer from tissue damage, didn’t even pierce the bone. He’s lucky.” I stare down and my brother, proud of him in a strange way, he’s a fighter. I stand and leave Issachar to work from his small field kit, bandaging Max further than he already was.
I see Abel walking towards me, faster than normal. “Are you—” before I can get my question out he wraps his arms around me tighter than I’ve ever been held. “Abel,” I say and squeeze him against me and try to make him understand that I’m okay, that I’m still here. He pulls away and holds my face in his hands. There is only him, he is the sum total of all of my memories. There is only him and there will only ever be him. I am a variable and he is a constant.
“I couldn’t lose you again. I couldn’t, Cate. I can’t make it through that again. I need you.” He presses his lips against mine and pulls my bottom lip into his mouth. I’ve never needed anything as much as I need him right now. I instantly understand his desperation, because I feel it too. I bury my face into his neck and feel hot tears run down my face. I cry from anger, I cry from pain, I cry from losing Ben, I cry because Max was saved. I cry because a part of me is still human.
Chapter 29
We construct a makeshift gurney for Ben and his lifeless body accompanies us, his heels dragging along the dirt; I can’t leave him here like that, without a place for him to rest, a place for him to have peace. Then we make our way deeper into the forest, taking turns carrying Max and praying that his fever subsides. The Council will send soldiers after us soon, they may already be on their way, so the time we gain now is crucial and Leah reminds us of that fact every twenty minutes or so. The trees watch us, permitting us a narrow passage under their cover in the spring air.
I’m not sure where we’re going, I’m not sure I care. My entire life, this entire life has been a lie, but damn, it’s been one hell of a lie. I will miss the people that I knew, I will miss the people that got me to this point. I will miss my room and I will miss walks around town. I will miss the way the sun looks when it stretches awake over the mountains behind our house. I will miss the way the butterflies lived in my stomach when Abel came into my life. I will miss the way I thought life was, the simplicity that came along with him and the normalcy that came along with becoming an ‘us’.
Those things are gone. They are not coming back. I may never be able to love this life, but I will adjust and become ‘okay’ with this new normal. I never asked for this world but I refuse to be the reluctant girl in the story. This is my story, and I’ll be damned if I play a passive role.
I walk in silence. I walk staring back at Ben, staring forward at Max. I walk. I walk until my heart and lungs scream at me to stop and then I walk more. I clench my jaw because the idea of rest seems pointless, because the idea of safety seems imaginary. I grip my fists because the Brotherhood will pay for the lives they’ve taken. I breathe deeply because a day of reckoning will come for Aliah who for too long has enjoyed the oppression of others. I am the Altruist, and there will soon be a day that Nassai will shiver at my name, but for now, I walk. I walk.
Altruist (The Altruist Series Book 1) Page 22
