Page 23 of Requiem
My chest feels like it’s caving in. Suddenly the rage is draining. “What stopped him?” I ask, my voice barely there. “You?”
Adriana looks at me. “No. You,” she replies quickly. “Your name.”
The world tilts. I open and close my mouth, struggling for words.
“I said your name,” she explains, her voice trembling. “I told him about you. About how you were still out there. About how much you loved him. And he stopped,” she says softly. “The glass shard he had at his throat fell from his hand and shattered on the floor. Picturing or seeing your face hurt him because of the torture. But I told him to latch onto how loving youfelt. And he came back just enough to stop.”
A sob catches in my throat, my hand flying up to cover my mouth as the weight of that crashes into me all at once. He almost—
Oh my god.
A tear rolls down her cheek. “You should try to remind him of thefeelingof being in love with you. It worked before.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. Past every part of me that wants to take her out back and shoot her in the goddamn head. Because he matters more than my revenge on her. “Help me.”
She tilts her head, face twisting in confusion.
“After all of the horrible shit you’ve done to him over the years,” I continue. “Ineedyou to help me get him back. Please. It’s theleastyou could fucking do. Help us save him.”
She doesn’t hesitate. “I will. I’ll do anything.”
My breathing is uneven as I wipe at my face with the back of my hand. I have to get away from her. “I’m going to see him.”
She nods once as I turn away and head for the stairs to the basement. When I get down to the basement living room, I see that Micah is sitting forward on the couch, elbows on his knees, his gaze locked on the monitors in front of him. Heather is beside him, equally focused. They both look up the second I step into the room.
Micah’s expression changes immediately. “Hey.” His voice is careful.
I don’t say anything at first. My eyes drift past him, landing on the screen. And there he is.
Jude is lying on the bed, sheets tangled around his legs like he’s been tossing and turning. His skin is damp with sweat, his chest rising and falling fast. Even through the grainy monitor, I can see pain. He looks…horrible.
My heart aches. “I’m going in,” I say quietly.
Micah stands immediately. “I don’t know—”
“I have to.”
He exhales hard, dragging a hand down his face before stepping closer to me. “He’s not himself right now.” His voice drops. “You saw what he did to you, okay? Emma, he almostkilledyou.”
My hand lifts unconsciously to my throat, fingers brushing over the bruises. “I know,” I whisper. “But he didn’t.”
“Because Istoppedhim!” he snaps.
I incline my chin. “You’re right.”
He sighs, squeezing his eyes closed. He knows he can’t keep me from him. It’s not how this is going to work, anyway. I need to see where he’s at when it comes to me.
Heather stands too, her expression softer but just as serious. “We’re right here,” she says gently. “The second you need us, we’re coming in. Okay?”
Micah doesn’t seem happy about her taking my side on this. He hesitates for half a second longer, then steps aside.
I move past him before he can change his mind. “If my face is a trigger, I need to see how bad. As awful as it is.”
“Em.”
I turn to see real sadness on his face.
“Be careful.”
