Kneeling beside him on the bed, she transformed from the demon of lust that had unwittingly tormented him to an angel of compassion as she wrapped her arms around him.

None of them had ever comforted him this way. The closest to come to it had been wretched Carrie, just before her blade had split his heart. He let Mouse stroke his hair, and leaned against her at her gentle urging. It was a disgraceful thing, crying like a woman in front of one. In the past, he would have killed her, when he felt better. Now, her death was the only thing he feared, and it frightened him more than the prospect of his own.

His fear transformed into a landslide of gut-wrenching desperation, and he clung to her, knowing his fingers bruised the fragile skin beneath the T-shirt. She said nothing. The tone of her voice never rose above a gentle murmur as she soothed him with mindless words of reassurance.

Her tenderness only amplified his despair. She didn’t deserve this. There were so many people he would love to see die in her place, but it wasn’t to be.

He took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. He needed to see that she understood. “If we survive this, I will give you everything you’ve ever desired.”

Taking his hands in hers, she gently lowered them to his knees. “You won’t have to.”

She said this to placate him, he knew, because she did not believe him. Or perhaps he’d frightened her. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her forward, trying to communicate the depth of his feeling with an urgent, clumsy kiss.

She didn’t resist him. She didn’t return his kiss with as much enthusiasm as he’d hoped for, either, but her warm mouth parted beneath his as a sound of surprise reverberated in her throat.

This was exactly what he’d been seeking. Acceptance. Not for what he could give her, but for the intention behind it. He had what he wanted, and he wouldn’t need to ask for more.

Mouse looked confused when he pulled away. Cyrus kissed her cheek to reassure her. “Let’s go to sleep.”

Perhaps if he pretended that the new day on the horizon wouldn’t bring them one day closer to the end, he would eventually believe it.

Chapter 10
March

I was in Cyrus’s bed again. Candlelight flickered on the cream-colored walls. Gauzy curtains floated on a cool night breeze. It was a dream, I knew, because I’d gone to sleep in the back of the increasingly unpleasant van. Also, because Nathan lay beside me.

He touched my face, and I leaned into his palm. “You’re dead.”