His thick fingers slipped between mine. “I can help you.” His offer was sweet, but there was a wild look in his eyes. It was starting to sink in, and he was grasping for something to hold onto while the rest of his world fell apart.

I flashed him a weak smile and shook my head. He’d taken an oath the day he earned his badge—serve and protect. Helping me from this point on would mean breaking that oath in every way possible. “You should go to Bainbridge. You’ll be safe with Heru and Lex.”

Garth stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the gateway. “I want to help you.”

I looked past him, meeting Dorman’s curious stare. For some reason, what happened between Garth and me next mattered to him. My choice mattered to him. Would I use Garth, or would I protect him? Maybe it would show Dorman what kind of a person I really was. Maybe it would be the thing that determined where his allegiance truly lay, regardless of what happened with the cure.

I held Dorman’s stare for a moment longer, decision made. I wouldn’t use Garth; I would keep him safe. Always. Even if it meant hurting him another way.

I looked at Garth, my stare unflinching. “You can’t help me. You’ll only get in my way.”

His expression hardened, and he pressed his full lips together.

“I’ll draw a gateway to Bainbridge,” I said, voice flat.

Garth shook his head. “I’ll drive. There’s something I have to do along the way, anyway.”

“But you will go there, right?”

He nodded once.

I clenched my jaw. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he said.

“Alright, so . . .” Dorman forced out a rough, nervous laugh. “Now that that’s decided . . .”

Chapter Seventeen

I walked Garth the quarter mile to his car, as much to make sure he got there safely as to show him where I’d parked it. It was half past eight, and the street running alongside I-5 was quiet. And Garth was quiet. And I was quiet. We were just a couple bundles of quiet, the two of us, surrounded by more, tense quiet.

“Listen, Garth,” I started as we jaywalked across the empty street. “I know you’re capable of—”

“I get it, Kat.” Garth looked up the street, away from me, then glanced my way. “I mean, look at you—you were covered in burns from the gas, head to toe, and now you’re good as new, while I . . .” He trailed off, clearing his throat with a cough. Tear gas is a real bitch on the ol’ esophagus and lungs. “I can’t even begin to understand what it must be like to be one of you . . . to heal the way you do . . . to know you’ll live for centuries while the rest of the world, well . . .” He laughed bitterly, gravel on concrete. “I’m like glass compared to your steel. You’re worried about me. I’m flattered, actually.”