Eight of Hearts: The Rift Blade - Book 1

Chapter 41

The vault Jonas led them to was small. The shelves that lined each wall were crammed with confiscated items without any organization, and heavy crates took up most of the floor space.

James settled on the floor between two shelving units with his back against the wall. He looked around at the others as they settled down to wait with him. Adriana went to one of the corners by herself, leaning casually against a stack of crates to wait. Jonas assisted Bryce to sit by the wall to his right.

Shyla--who he now noticed had brought the body of a guard with her--sat down near the doorway, where she was soon joined by Cecil. Even though the room was poorly lit, James could still see the pain and sadness on her face. His heart ached with guilt to think it might be his own fault.

Jonas came over carrying a rapier he had retrieved from one of the crates piled high. He sat down beside him without a word.

"Do you think I could have prevented this, Jonas?" James asked, his tired voice barely above a whisper. His eyes never left the body that now lay on the floor beside Shyla.

Jonas followed his gaze, and his face hardened as he realized what James was asking. "No," he said, shaking his head. "Between Dr. Higgins and Kaya, people were going to die no matter what you did."

James sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "You can't say that for sure. There's always a way to save everybody."

Jonas was silent for a long time. He hadn't ever seen James hesitate like this. He also had never seen James confronted by the consequences of his actions before. Or death, for that matter. It would be good for him, really; James was finally self-reflecting and seeing his flaws for what they were.

But there was a problem with that line of thought too: it would be harder for him to make decisions if he started overthinking everything now. Like it or not, everyone here already looked to him for leadership. As much as Jonas wanted to put him in his place, he had to prioritize their survival. To do that, he had to convince James that their losses weren't his fault.

"Once you have the same foresight as you do hindsight, then you'll have a chance to do just that." He used sarcasm to highlight just how impossible such a thing was. Whether James took it that way or not was another matter. "But you can't let it get to you. If you break now, you won't be able to save anyone else."

James turned to look him in the eyes; his unyielding spirit showed through the pain. "I never break, Jonas," he said, pouring his heart into his words. "But I will never allow them to kill again."

There it was. That was what Jonas was afraid of. He agreed that death and killing was horrible, but it was naive to think it was always avoidable. They were castaways, drifting in a world that they did not belong to. The rules of society that had protected them all their lives were gone. James would break eventually, if he was ever faced with the choice between one life over another. And that wouldn't just break him: that could break everyone here that idolized him. Jonas made a silent promise to himself: if he ever had the opportunity, he would make that decision before James even knew it was there.

He smiled, forcing the expression of trust that he would have to fake for the foreseeable future. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

James chuckled despite himself. "I never know what I'm doing."

"Be careful who you say that to," Jonas added. "Everyone trusts that you'll always do the right thing. It wouldn't help if they found out you were making it up as you went."

Shyla tried to sit still, but her eyes kept drifting over to where James sat talking with Jonas. She felt a knife twist in her heart at the thought of betraying her father like this. Yes, she loved James, but that didn't overwrite her love for her family. Every time she caught herself looking at him, she forced her eyes away. This ended with her looking at the dead body in front of her, which gave her a different pang of regret. If Euclid Higgins really was her father, and if her memories of the agency were real, then how did she explain this terrible proof of their corruption? She could think of no explanation to justify what had been done to the poor girl.