Relief floods through me.

I’m so grateful to be able to take James home. To let him sleep in his own bed. And though I know better than to ever say it out loud, a small part of me is happy that our time at Omega Point is officially over. There’s a silver lining in all of this, and it’s that Warner thinks we’re all dead. And even though he’s got Juliette now, he won’t have her forever. She’ll be safe until we can find a way to get her back, and until then, he won’t come after us. We can find a way to live, away from all the violence and destruction.

Besides, I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of being on the run and always having to risk my life and constantly worrying about James. I just want to go home. I want to take care of my brother. And I never, ever, ever want to feel what I felt last night.

I can’t risk losing James, not ever again.

THIRTEEN

The roads are almost entirely abandoned. The sun is high and the wind is bitingly cold and though the rain has stopped, the air smells like snow, and I have a feeling it’s going to be harsh. I wrap James more tightly in my arms, shivering against a chill coming from deep inside my body. He’s fallen asleep again, his small face buried in the crook of my neck. I hug him closer to my chest.

With the opposition destroyed, there’s no need to have many—if any—troops on the ground. They’re probably clearing out the bodies now, cleaning up the mess and putting things back in order as soon as possible. It’s what we always did.

Battle was necessary, but cleaning it up was just as crucial.

Warner used to drill that home: we were never to allow civilians time to grieve. We could never give them the opportunity to make martyrs of their loved ones. No, it was better for the deaths to seem as insignificant as possible.

Everyone had to go back to work right away.

So many times I was a part of those missions. I always hated Warner, hated The Reestablishment and all it stood for, but now I feel even more strongly about it all. Thinking I’d lost James did something to me last night, and the damage is irreparable. I thought I knew what it was like to lose someone close to me, but I didn’t, not really. Losing a parent is excruciating, but somehow, the pain is so much different from losing a child. And James, to me, in many ways, feels like my own kid. I raised him. Took care of him. Protected him. Fed him and clothed him. Taught him most everything he knows. He’s my only hope in all this devastation—the one thing I’ve always lived for, always fought for. I’d be lost without him.

James gives my life purpose.

And I didn’t realize this until last night.