Vespertine

Back in the room again. Caiden wished he knew how to use his power to cure anxiety, because his heart was running all over the place as he waited for Astor to come in.

Staed had looked at him incredulously as he dragged the unconscious Scarlett back, followed by the rest of their unit. Of course, none of them had any idea what had happened, but Brietta and Luis were equally confused as to why they had been fighting Scarlett. Caiden told them they had managed to knock her out, but he knew that lie wouldn’t hold as Staed carried Scarlett off to the medical wing.

He had then told Caiden to wait in the interrogation room for Astor.

Caiden tapped his fingers on the steel table in front of him nervously. He hated the fact that the room had no windows—it made him uneasy. His head hurt, too, even though he hadn’t suffered an injury.

The door opened, and Caiden’s head snapped up as Astor entered.

He was dressed as if he had just woken up and was lounging around with a cup of coffee in his loose white tee and sweatpants. His face seemed to be entirely nonchalant, maybe even relaxed. Caiden eyed him warily as he pulled up a chair and sat across from Caiden, resting his forearms on the table in front of him.

“How are you?” He asked, his tone pleasant.

“I’m fine. I didn’t get hurt.”

He rested his chin on his hand, watching Caiden carefully. “Tell me something, Caiden.”

“What?”

“How did Scarlett get hurt?”

“Brietta and Luis,” Caiden responded. “Which wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t been wearing a mask and attacking us. Could you please explain that?”

“Double agent.”

Caiden shook his head. “No, that’s not good enough. That doesn’t make sense. Then why wouldn’t she turn on them as soon as she stepped into the cavern? Why bother fighting Brietta and Luis at all?”

“You ask too many questions. It’s time you answered one of mine.”

“I deserve answers, too,” Caiden snapped. “Tell me.”

Astor ignored him. “I’ve been wondering about something.”

“And what would that be?”

He tilted his head, as if he was genuinely curious. “Do you really want to be the savior, Caiden?”

There it was. Savior. How Caiden hated that word. As if he alone could determine the fate of the world, as if he alone was responsible for victory. As if it would be his fault if they lost.

No, I don’t, he wanted to say. I never have. I just want to leave this place, go to school, read books and never come back. I’d be fine if I never had to fight anybody else in my whole life. Fuck being the savior. I just want to live.

But of course, he knew Astor didn’t make empty threats. It was either the savior or nothing at all.

“Yes, I do,” he responded, wincing a bit at how unconvincing it sounded. He cleared his throat. “I know where my loyalty lies.”

Astor smiled. “Good. Prove it on your next mission, will you? Now go treat Scarlett. She’s in room 121.”

“Sure.” Caiden breathed out a sigh of relief, and stood up. His legs felt numb, but he stumbled his way to the door.

“Caiden.”

He turned around quizzically as Astor got up and stood next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah?”

Astor smiled, and then his other hand wrapped around Caiden’s wrist as the one on his shoulder pushed, and Caiden screamed as his arm was dislocated from its socket, and he dropped to the floor, shuddering in pain as Astor let go.

“I hope you mean what you say,” Astor said, pleasantly, stepping over Caiden’s writhing body and disappearing down the hallway.

Caiden gasped and blinked away his tears, focusing. In a matter of seconds, the pain faded away and his arm was settled the right way, and he gingerly flexed it to make sure he had healed it completely.

He glanced at Astor’s form, sauntering away. He should have known that Astor wouldn’t be so easily fooled. Actually, he should be glad that Astor’s warning hadn’t been worse. He wasn’t.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, pushing himself off the floor.

He made his way to the medical wing, where everything was white and brightly lit. He found room 121 and worked to keep a scowl off his face. Scarlett had some questions to answer, but then again, he was going to have a hard time explaining his own behavior.

She was sleeping, her auburn hair dirty and matted against the white pillow. Her eyes opened as Caiden went to stand by her bedside. She smiled at him.

Caiden avoided her gaze, instead peeling back her blanket so he could look at her injuries. He started with the basic ones, scrapes and bruises that were easily visible.

Scarlett watched him work, her sharp green eyes studying him.

“Salvatore is dead,” she said, matter-of-factly. Caiden didn’t reply, running his hand over a nasty gash on her thigh. The wound closed up, fading to a pink scar before it disappeared completely.

“And since you so conveniently showed up, I’m assuming Quinn isn’t.”

The way she said is wasn’t accusatory, but Caiden could feel his cheeks heating up anyways. “I thought you were a traitor,” he muttered, by way of explanation. “Figured between you and Quinn, she was less likely to kill me.”

Scarlett laughed, and Caiden gave her a look. “How is that funny?”

Scarlett ignored his question. People seemed to have a habit of doing that to him. This time, he didn’t stop the scowl from surfacing.

“That likely means Quinn will be the new leader of the V’s. But she’s young and hotheaded. Salvatore’s death will have gotten to her, which means she’s going to strike back quickly,” she mused. “She’ll probably lead another raid, either tomorrow or the day after, thinking it’ll catch us off guard. Tell Astor to be ready for it.”

Caiden wordlessly healed a bruise that was beginning to form on her upper arm. Her cold, precise tone was bothering him, but he didn’t say anything.

The last cut vanished under his fingers, and he turned to go.

“Caiden,” Scarlett called.

“What?” He asked, annoyance showing in his voice.

“Are you angry with me?”

“No,” he replied sarcastically. “I love it when nobody tells me anything. And I especially love it when my best and basically only friend has a secret identity she didn’t tell me about.”

“I couldn’t,” Scarlett said. “For the sake of the assignment.”

“How does that make sense at all?” Caiden demanded. “What harm does it do to tell me?”

Scarlett shook her head. “You don’t get it.”

“Damn right I don’t,” he responded angrily.

They locked eyes for a moment, Caiden standing near the door and Scarlett sitting up in her bed.

“All those times,” he said slowly. “All those times you mentioned your inside man, your secret informant. You were talking about yourself, weren’t you?”

Scarlett pressed her lips together.

“She really liked you, you know,” Caiden said softly, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Who, Quinn?” Scarlett asked, incredulously.

“Yeah.” Caiden knew that it wasn’t relevant, but at the same time, he felt betrayed, even though Scarlett hadn’t turned on him. She had lied to him. And if she could lie so easily to people who actually liked her, and thought they knew her, then how did he know if Scarlett Rowan was the person he thought she was? “How long?”

She didn’t answer right away. “How long, Scarlett?” Caiden asked, harsher this time.

“Two years.”

He laughed, bitterly. “So you’re telling me you’ve known these people for two years. You’ve fought with them and laughed with them and you became friends with them. And then you just turned and stabbed them in the back. Or I guess in the stomach, in Quinn’s case.”

“That was my assignment,” Scarlett snapped, her eyes flashing in anger. They shifted red for just a second before they were green again, though still irritated. “Would you rather I betrayed you for them?”

“That’s not what I mean,” Caiden said, frustrated. “I just—how could you? How could you do that to people you know?”

“I’m not like you,” she said coldly. “I’m not so sentimental. And I could ask you the same. How could you betray Astor, and me, and everybody else, for a girl you don’t even know?”

“It was an accident,” he retorted. “A mistake I made in the moment. What you did was premeditated. You knew exactly what you were doing the entire time.”

Scarlett shook her head. He hated the way she did it, in a sympathetic, pitying way. As if he was a child, whining about something he couldn’t comprehend. “I did what I had to do. And if you can’t understand that, then—“

“Then what?”

She leveled her gaze coolly. “Then too bad. You’re going to have to deal with it.”

Caiden felt like crying. “Deal with the fact that you’re capable of lying to people who care about you. Knowingly. How do I know you’re not going to do that to me?”

When she didn’t answer, he turned and walked away.

“Caiden,” she said, and suddenly her voice seemed different. More vulnerable. He stopped in the doorway, but didn’t turn around.

“I did what I had to do,” she repeated, but this time Caiden could hear the undertones of guilt. She seemed close to pleading.

“I know it seems like I’m coldhearted, but the world is bigger than single wrongs. That’s the world we live in, and we do what we have to in order to survive. I didn’t want this, Caiden. I promise.”

Caiden left without replying.

What if I want to get out of that world?