Page 55 of Requiem
“Yeah,” I say quietly, stepping further into the room. My eyes don’t leave the screen. “I need your help.”
There’s a pause on the other end. “With what?”
I watch Jude stop abruptly, his chest rising and falling hard before he turns and starts pacing again, faster this time. “With Jude,” I say, my voice low. “I’ll explain everything. I just—I need you ready.”
“Okay,” she says, more awake now. “Micah?”
I swallow, because I know.
“Did he really do that?” she asks, her voice now breaking.
An involuntary frown pulls at my lips, and I sigh, dragging a hand down my face. “Yes, Kam. He did.”
“Oh, my god…”
“I’ll be in contact, yeah?” I tell her, and then I hang up before she can ask more. The room feels heavier when the line goes dead. If I were honest with myself…I feel devastation at the fact that Alexei released that video to the world. I’m fucking devastated at what that evil asshole did to my best friend.
When I turn, I jolt when Rafe is suddenly at my side in the dark room. I didn’t even know the motherfucker was in here. His expression is unreadable as he watches Jude move back and forth like a caged animal. The light from the screens reflects faintly in his eyes, but there’s nothing in his face that gives anything away.
“How long have you been in here?” I ask.
He tilts his head. “About an hour.”
“I didn’t even see you, man,” I murmur. “How bad is he, do you think?”
Rafe doesn’t look at me right away. His gaze stays locked on the screen. “He’s due for another dose,” he says finally. “Suboxone should take the edge off.”
I nod once. “Yeah. I figured.”
“He had a nightmare,” Rafe adds after a second. “Triggered some kind of fight response. He’s been like this since.”
My eyes flick back to the monitor. “Did he say anything?” I ask.
“No.”
I exhale slowly, trying to steady the concern clawing up my spine. “Alright.”
Rafe finally glances at me then. “You going in?”
“Yeah,” I say without hesitation, grabbing the pill bottle from the table. I turn toward the hallway that leads to Jude’s room, my grip tightening around the plastic as I move. The house is still quiet above us, the rest of them probably still asleep. I reach the door and pause for half a second, listening. The pacing hasn’t stopped. In fact, it’s faster now, like he’s getting worked up. My jaw locks as I unlock the door and step inside.
He doesn’t look at me when I walk in. He’s pacing, just like he was on the monitor, bare feet dragging against the floor. Back and forth. Back and forth. His hands keep pushing through his hair, shoulders locked in defensive mode.
“Hey,” I say, keeping my voice even. “Easy.”
He stops abruptly, as if something yanked him to a halt. For a second, he just stands there, back half-turned to me, chest rising and falling too fast. Then his head tilts, just enough that I know he’s tracking where I am without actually looking at me. It's fucking creepy.
“What?” he snaps.
I can’t help it. I tense a little at his tone. “I brought your meds,” I say, lifting the Suboxone.
Thankfully, that gets his attention and allows for some relief to seep into his expression. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Yeah, I need that.”
I nod once and step forward just enough to close the gap between us. I know not to move too quickly around him when he’s like this. “Sit down for me,” I say.
He exhales hard through his nose, like my simple request has irritated him, but he doesn’t argue. He turns and drops onto the edge of the bed, elbows braced on his knees, head hanging.
I crouch in front of him, keeping my movements slow as I pass him the pill. His fingers brush mine when he takes it, and they’re really cold and unsteady. But he doesn’t bother to comment on it. He just slips the pill under his tongue.
