Sarah Fine

“...Were you in the military?""Are you kidding me? I was in high school.""High school," he said quietly. "You’re American. And a civilian?""Uh, yes. An American civilian.""Lovely. A straight answer. Keep it up. Did somebody train you?""No, nobody trained me. Unless you count the Rhode Island child welfare and juvenile justice systems. Why?"Malachi held up his hand and ticked off the reasons with his fingers. "You stole a Guard's weapon. If I'm not mistaken, it belonged to a Gate Guard. Which means you managed to do it on your way into the city. You escaped Amid even after he had you in hand. You slashed his leg in just the right place, preventing him from chasing you. Under extreme duress, injured and cornered, you threw a knife and hit a target-""It's not like I hit something vital.”

“A faint rattling pulled me from sleep, which was a relief because I’d been caught in yet another nightmare. After what Rick, my now-former foster father, had done to me, one would think he’d be the one haunting my dreams. And he had something to do with it—he’d revived me the night I tried to kill myself. In the moments before he had, I was certain I’d been standing at the gates of hell, about to be sucked in. Unfortunately, when Rick revived me, I’d brought a piece of hell back with me. That was what I dreamed about. Every night. A dark, walled city. Wandering, lost, trapped. A voice whispering to me, You’re perfect. Come back.Stay.”

“He kissed me gently. 'Lieutenant Malachi Sokol, reporting for duty, Captain.''What?''I've been assigned to your field unit,' he whispered as he nuzzled my neck. Oh, man. Heaven. Help. Me. 'I'm afraid I'm already being shockingly insubordinate.”

“I wanted the chance to give him something, to give him the best of me, as pathetic as it was, damaged and broken, warped at the edges, hardly worth having. I decided that if I had the chance, if he asked, if he needed, it was his.”

“You said you needed to see me again, too.''Did it help?''More than you'll ever know.'I tightened my arm around his waist, wanting nothing more from the moment than what it was.That simple moment, touching him, feeling him breathe, his hand stroking my hair—it was all I could have hoped for, all I could have wanted. I was filled up with it, this warm, buzzing feeling in my chest, and it was completely satisfying.I wondered if it might be what I needed after all.”

“He absently stroked my hair, winding it around his fingers, smoothing it against my back. I relaxed into him, and he laid his cheek on top of my head. It felt good. Better than good. Normal. Safe. Clean and right and whole... and not at all what I expected when I decided to come to hell.”

“Don't confuse what you want and what you need.”

“Some people can’t keep fighting. Some people want to escape. Some people are not ready—are not able—to find a way to deal with what’s in front of them. Sometimes there’s no one to help them. Sometimes they don’t know how to ask for help. Sometimes it feels like there’s no choice but to end it. No other way out. And sometimes it’s impossible to see past that.”