Torn: Sequel to Ruthless

Chapter 17

Octavia

Apollo finds me just as I'm standing, trying to wipe the tears from my face with shaking hands. The arena is heavy with silence, broken only by my uneven breaths. I don't hear him approach—he moves so softly, cautiously, like he's afraid one wrong step might shatter what's left of me. When I finally sense him, it's like another wave of grief hits, pulling me under.

"Octavia," he says, his voice quiet, gentle. The way he says my name, like it's fragile, makes my chest tighten.

I can't look at him. I don't trust myself to. If I do, I'll break all over again, and I'm already barely holding it together. My throat feels raw, and my heart aches in ways I didn't think it could. I try to steady myself, but it's useless. The weight of Kai's death is too much, pressing me down like I'll never stand up straight again.  Apollo steps closer, his movements slow and deliberate, giving me space but not leaving me alone. When he stops just in front of me, his hand hovers between us, unsure. I stare at it, unsure myself, until he reaches for me. His fingers wrap around mine, warm and steady, and that's all it takes. 

I crumble. The strength I thought I had shatters, and my knees give out. I fall forward, but Apollo catches me, pulling me against his chest. His arms wrap around me like a shield, and the sob I've been choking on escapes before I can stop it. My fingers clutch at his shirt, gripping the fabric like it's the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.

"I'm sorry, Octavia," he whispers, his voice breaking. "I'm so, so sorry."

His words dig into me, pulling out all the pain I've been trying to bury. The tears come harder, hotter, and I bury my face in his shoulder, muffling the sound. I don't care that he's here, that he's seeing me like this. I don't care that the cameras are watching. None of it matters right now. Nothing matters except the gaping hole Kai left behind.

Apollo doesn't try to hush me. He just holds me tighter, his hand moving to the back of my head, his fingers threading through my hair in slow, soothing strokes. His touch is grounding, pulling me back from the edge, but I can feel the slight tremor in his hands. He's trying to be strong for me, but I know he's breaking too. I don't know how long we stay like this. Minutes? Hours? Time feels warped, meaningless. When my sobs finally quiet, I whisper into his chest, my voice barely audible, "It's not fair."

"I know," he murmurs, his breath warm against my hair. "I know it's not."

I pull back slightly, enough to see his face. His eyes are dark with grief, but there's something else there—something softer, more careful. I can see the weight he's carrying, how hard he's trying to hold it all together for my sake. And for the first time, I realize he's not as unshakable as he seems. He's just as lost as I am.

"I should've stopped him," I choke out. "I should've done something."

"Don't," Apollo says quickly, his voice firm but kind. "Don't do that to yourself. It wasn't your fault, Octavia. You couldn't have known. You couldn't have stopped it."

His words are meant to comfort me, but they feel impossible to believe. My hands tremble as I lower my gaze, ashamed. But Apollo doesn't let me look away. His hand moves to my cheek, tilting my face back up so our eyes meet.

"You didn't fail them," he says softly, his thumb brushing against my skin. "You didn't fail anyone."

The way he looks at me—it's too much. It's like he can see every part of me, every broken piece, and he doesn't flinch. He doesn't pull away. His eyes hold mine with a quiet intensity that makes my breath catch.

"Apollo..." My voice falters, heavy with everything I don't know how to say.

He leans in, resting his forehead against mine, and the closeness is overwhelming. His breath mingles with mine, steady and grounding, and for a moment, the world outside of us disappears. The fear, the loss, the blood—all of it fades into the background. It's just him and me, suspended in this fragile, fleeting moment.

"Kai wouldn't want you to give up," Apollo murmurs, his voice so soft it almost breaks me again. "Neither would Seena or Bark. They'd want you to keep fighting."

His words pierce through the haze of my grief, and I nod slowly, though the ache in my chest doesn't lessen. I know he's right. Kai would want me to keep going, to survive. But it feels impossible to imagine a future without him.

Then, Apollo does something I don't expect. He presses his lips gently to my forehead, lingering just long enough to send a shockwave through me. The gesture is so tender, so full of unspoken emotion, that I feel something crack open inside me. Something raw and uncertain, but alive. I blink up at him, tears still blurring my vision. His face is so close, his expression so open, and I can see the pain in his eyes, the hope he's trying to hold onto. For both of us. For Kai.

"I don't know if I can do this," I whisper, my voice trembling.

"You can," he says, and there's no hesitation in his voice. "You're stronger than you think, Octavia."

I don't know if I believe him, but the way he's looking at me makes me want to try. It makes me want to hold onto this sliver of hope, this fragile connection, because right now, it's all I have. For the first time since Kai's death, I feel like I'm not completely alone. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough to keep going.