CHAPTER 31 – Grace
Every movement hurt, every breath hurt, every blink hurt. Pain consumed me until warm fingers dragged me away to a place where that pain disappeared. Surrounded by heat and a floating bliss that contradicted the icy violent anarchy I’d been trapped in only moments before, I sighed. This is where I wanted to stay, away from the pain, and far, far away from the fear. Here, in this place of freedom, my thoughts drifted hazily over everything and nothing. I felt so carefree and light, I wondered if I might fly. Thoughts of Liberty, my friends, my home, flittered through my mind.
Home.
The notion came with an immeasurable feeling of sorrow. It didn’t make me want to cry, but left me feeling despondent and numb, as if my once full heart was now empty. Why did the thought of home upset me so?
“This is my home.” A familiar voice, as warm as honey and seductively rasping filled my thoughts.
“This beating heart… is my home.” The voice purred and my body melted.
“You are mine, Gracie. My home.”
Oh God, I knew that voice. My home, my love, my Ink. Something pulled me forward with a vicious yank, dragging me away from the warmth and right back into ice cold hands. With a deep inhale my back arched, and pain filled me like an overfull cup. So much pain, but in that pain was my home, and I’d endure a lifetime of pain just to have Ink holding me again.
“She’s back,” someone murmured, and the ice cold hands left my body.
Glancing down I found my chest exposed for all to see. Somewhere in my foggy brain, I knew I should be embarrassed, but I couldn’t find the energy to truly care. It was a battle to draw in a breath, and every time I did, my chest throbbed with unrelenting agony. With heavy lids, I closed my eyes and tried to reach for that warm place which had taken me away from this horror.
“Oh, no you don’t, Grace.” The voice was familiar, determined and warm.
Fighting lethargy, I forced my eyes open and found Ashlynn leaning over me, her glassy eyes brimming with steely determination.
“That’s the girl, you stay with me. That bastard is not taking any more from us.” Gentle hands wiped away tears I didn’t even know fell. “Ink will have a blind fit if you fade on us again.”
The name brought forward images and memories, forcing me to remember. The heavy sound of fists on flesh, grunts, pain, blood—so much blood. A colorless man with a manic grin and pale, evil eyes resting in sunken sockets filled my vision. The violent images were quickly replaced with something so vastly different. Tender fingers whispering over my flesh, warm lips on mine. The memory of my name tattooed in an elegant script caught my attention, and my fingers pressed together remembering the smooth texture of his skin under that dark ink.
“Ink.” The words barely fell from my lips, the missing air from my lungs not allowing my voice to catch and sound the word aloud like I truly wanted to.
“He’s lost a lot of blood, but he’s being moved to the infirmary now. He’ll be fine… as long as you’re fine.”
“Let’s get her moved, we need to get that bullet out.” The unfamiliar voice caught my attention, and I rolled my head to find a man I didn’t recognize. His blond hair was a chaotic mess, and his full lips were pressed together in worry. When his rich, chocolate eyes landed on mine, he smiled. He looked so young, even boyish with dimples set deep into his cheeks. “Just take it easy, Grace, I got this. I’m gonna fix you right up.”
He was? But he looked so young.
Something like a knife blade direct to my heart stole my sight as I slammed my eyes closed and groaned. Squirming, I tried to get away from the pain or find some reprieve from the never-ending agony. People began to shout, their words nothing but distant background noise to the discomfort of my body.
And then the blissful darkness stole me away again.
***
As my heavy lids blinked open, a room of soft shadows found its way into my hazy vision. It was dark. No, not completely dark, more like softly lit. Allowing my head to flop to one side, I found a lamp in the corner casting a warm glow upon the room. Pale gray walls surrounded me, along with a smooth white counter littered with paper, cups, towels, and instruments I couldn’t put a name to. A body moved past me, and I followed it with my eyes. Turning around, a young man with blond hair stood reading something off a clipboard in his hand. Letting out a soft grunt and something that resembled an amused snort, he gently placed the clipboard to one side, then turned his attention my way. Noticing my open eyes, he smiled. Dimples in a too young face. I recognized that face from somewhere, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out where.
“Nice to have you back in the land of the living, Grace.”
He knew my name, but I was sure I didn’t know his. I couldn’t place where I knew him from. His voice was soft, melodic even, soothing.
“Are you in any pain?”
Was I? All I felt was disjointed and dreamy.
“We’ve got you on a heavy dose of morphine, it will make you feel sleepy.”
One heavy blink confirmed my lids felt like lead weights. Sleep called me, beckoning me forth with her tender fingers.
“It’s okay, take all the time you need. Sleeping is the best medicine to heal a broken body.”
I was broken? Where?
There was no point in lifting my head, my neck felt as weak as a baby bird. Blinking once, then twice, I was unable to open them for a third time, and instead, I allowed my body to rest.
***
“She’s been asleep too long.” The rough voice from somewhere close beside me was like a coarse growl whispered right in my ear. It made my heart jump.
“She will sleep as long as she needs to. There’s no such thing as too long.”
Young man, dimples, gentle voice. I recognized him immediately. A tone as smooth as velvet completely different from the irritated growl that seemed to wake the sluggish organ in my chest.
“How can her body get strong if she’s sleeping?”
The sullenly spoken words made me smile. Ink. I’d recognize that brooding whisper anywhere. An insufferable sigh filled the silent void.
“Grace can’t gain strength until the worst of her wounds have healed. That’s what her body’s doing while she’s sleeping. She’s healing.”
Healing… what was wrong with me? Forcing my eyes open I blinked against the bright light in the room.
“Gracie?” Ink didn’t sound so sullen anymore. Instead, he sounded hopeful. The bright, glaring light disappeared and the soft glow from the last time I’d woken in this room replaced the stark brightness.
“Fuck! You scared the shit out of me,” he whispered, his fingers slipping through mine.
“What did I do this time?” My voice was rough and my throat burned when I spoke. It didn’t sound like me.
“You’ve been out for quite some time, Grace. We had a tube down your throat for a while to help you breathe, so it probably feels a bit tight and sore. Here…” the blond stranger handed Ink a small cup with a straw in it.
Ink accepted it in his heavily tattooed hands, the black color a stark contrast against the white, foam cup. Carefully, he positioned the straw in front of my lips. The cool water on my throat was heavenly.
“You died,” Ink eventually said, spitting the words out with the same bad taste they resonated within my ears. “Twice!”
“Oh,” was all I could manage. I had died? Surely death was met with something a little more poetic than the foggy memories I conjured. All I could recall was pain, then nothing but a floating kind of warmth. There were no pearly gates or bright lights, only a memory of feeling numb and comfortable. In that place, it was like my emotions had been switched off, unlike now. The thought of dying, of missing so much I was yet to experience, of leaving Ink, it terrified me. Sorrow, grief, fear, it all hit me at once. My throat grew even tighter as I tried to bury the tears. It was useless though, as they flooded my eyes just like the emotions flooded my heart.
“Shit! I’m sorry,” Ink was quick to say, releasing my hand to stand and gently cup my cheeks. “I’m not angry at you, buttercup. Please don’t cry.”
Nodding I went to raise my hands to his wrists, needing something to anchor myself to, only to find one of my hands wrapped firmly in bandages. Lowering it back to the bed beside me, I placed my palm over Ink’s. “I know.”
More tears fell as my thoughts flew over everything that had happened in the last couple of months. Jebediah had broken down our walls and ripped our peaceful existence out from beneath us. He’d taken the beautiful gift the rebel forces and given us and tarnished it. The deaths of Viviane and our soldiers, along with innocents like Connie and Skye were all a heavy, suffocating weight as I began to sob, finally allowing myself to grieve our losses.
“Your tears are fucking flaying me, Gracie,” Ink murmured with a tight voice, his forehead pressed against mine, trying to get as close as possible without hurting me.
A dull, sharp pain in my chest reminded me of an injury I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around. Why did my chest hurt so much? A vision of Jebediah standing before me flashed through my mind. His guns outstretched, one pointed at me, one at Ink. Had he shot Ink a second time? Pushing the man hovering over me away, I began to frantically check his body. Stitches decorated a jagged line high on his forehead, his face was littered with bruises. His chest appeared whole, but I couldn’t see behind the jacket he wore. Tugging on it with frustration, I imagined all sorts of atrocities beneath the fabric.
“I’m okay,” Ink finally said, understanding what I was trying to do. “I’m fine. I’ve been up and around for days. You’re the one with a hole in your chest.”
My grip on his sleeve fell away as I tentatively touched my chest. The hesitant touch hurt and my tears of grief mingled with tears of pain.
“You were shot in the chest, the bullet nicked a lung, but luckily for you, it missed all the other major organs, including your heart.” The gently spoken light-haired man stepped up to the side of the bed. “Your lung collapsed, which was why you had trouble breathing, but we were able to repair the damage. It’s lucky you had such a nice hospital so close.”
“What happened?” I asked. My memories were disjointed, and I couldn’t put everything together in a way that made sense. “Where’s Jebediah?”
Ink carefully sat at my hip, his beautiful blue eyes fringed with dark lashes remained firmly on me. “Isaac shot him. He’s dead.” Relief unlike I’d ever felt before filled me. The monster had been slain, we were safe. “Slink made it,” Ink continued, his hand rising to rest on my cheek once again, brushing away every tear that fell. “He made it to Nelson. He made the call. The rebel forces came.” A mixture of disbelief and pride clouded his words. Then his lips slipped back into a scowl. “If they’d been just a few minutes earlier, it would have saved you this pain. Fuck! If they’d been twenty minutes earlier you wouldn’t have had to fight Jeze.”
Jeze’s startled image twisted its way into my memories. The look on her face as I continued to stab her was a mixture of shock and horror. I didn’t feel any remorse, though. And perhaps that made me a monster, but if I needed to be a monster to avenge Ink and the people of Liberty, so be it.
“‘If only’ is a dark and morbid word game.”
Word game—a foggy memory floated back to me and I shuddered under its onslaught.
My gaze was drawn back to the stranger in the room, the perfectly groomed young man who seemed to have joined me on this journey of death and rebirth.
“My name is Corporal James Edwards, I’m a soldier and medic with the rebel forces. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You saved me.” It wasn’t really a question, he had, after all, said he would ‘fix me right up.’
“All in a day’s work,” he replied with a genuine smile.
“How old are you?” I found myself asking.
His grin grew bigger. “A gentleman never tells.”
I smiled, Ink sighed, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a little slither of peace settle into my weary bones.
Jeze was dead.
Jebediah was dead.
It was over.
“Trigger?”
A growl rumbled in Ink’s chest and his entire body filled with tension, the hands cupping my cheeks tightening ever so slightly. “He’s in lockdown. We’re deciding what to do with him.”
He was alive? Somehow it didn’t seem fair. He’d hurt Skye outside the compound walls, then once her body had finally recovered, he marched her to her death. He’d been the traitor to help Jebediah infiltrate Liberty. He had opened our doors to a madman, and the consequences would stay with us for years to come. He deserved to die too. But would another death fix anything? Would it grant me a reprieve from my sorrow? Did Trigger carry any guilt for what he’d done? To kill him would release him from such a burden. That wasn’t fair either. I wanted him to stew in self-hatred, to feel the binds of captivity. I wanted him to suffer like the people of Liberty had.
“The Underworld,” I whispered, the idea unfurling until it became a pulsing need. “He should suffer for the rest of his days.”
Ink’s eyes flared with surprise, the dark pupils almost overtaking the dark blue iris. His jaw ticked, and he watched me with curious silence before eventually offering a short, sharp nod. Then, the sting from Trigger’s betrayal and the surprise from my suggestion melted away, and this sullen, hard man disappeared, and something soft and loving took its place.
“You were fierce and beautiful out there,” he quietly confessed. “A true warrior.”
His pride warmed every inch of me, and the tears on my face slowly dried. His gaze dropped to my lips, and my tongue darted out, trying to offer some moisture to the dry and cracked flesh. The corner of Ink’s mouth twitched, a smile threatening to break his steely composure. With slow, measured movements, he leaned into my body, his arms on either side of my shoulders keeping him from pressing me into the mattress. I felt every shift in the air as dipped forward to kiss me. It was soft, gentle and virtuous, yet said so much.
“I love you.” The words were breathed right into my mouth.
“I love you more,” I confessed.
“Not possible.”
“I don’t even have the energy to argue.”
Then he smiled, and my cracked and broken world began to piece itself back together.