Rebel Born (Secondborn #3)(99)

“Yeah, that’s my implant working. Hers is practically dead. We have to bring it back to life.”

I go to help Hawthorne sit up, but he waves me off. “I feel different. Stronger.”

“That’s what we want.”

“How are you going to bring her implant back to life?” he asks, getting to his feet. He flexes his hands, gazing at them as if they belong to someone else.

“I have to stop her heart and restart it—give her a reboot.”

“What? No way! Absolutely not,” he growls, glaring at me.

“It’s going to be easier than what I just did to you. Trust me. I can speed up her implant’s growth, too—make her stronger in a shorter amount of time, because we’re running out of it. I need to return to the anchor I came through, before dawn in my world, or I’ll have to find another way out.”

“How do you know when that is? It’s daylight here.”

“I have an internal clock.”

“Is the anchor going to close?” he asks.

“Not exactly. We have plans to blow it up. It’s complicated. I’ll explain it all to you, but let me do this first.”

“You’re going to leave us?” he asks.

“My world needs me. I can’t stay here. I have a plan, but it involves both of you being as strong as possible.”

“I trust you,” Roselle says, lying in the spot that Hawthorne just vacated.

Hawthorne begins to kneel beside her, but I stop him. “You can’t hold her hand,” I say. “This requires sending electrical charges through her. I don’t want them to touch you. I also don’t want you to freak out. Can you do that?”

“What?” he asks. “Not freak out?”

I nod.

“I honestly don’t think I can watch her die and not freak out.”

I get to my feet and lead him away, to the steps of Tyburn’s Temple. “You don’t have to watch. You said you want to know everything that’s happened to me, right?”

Hawthorne nods grimly.

“I’ll show you. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” he replies.

“Sit on the steps.” He does. I place a finger to his temple, like a finger gun, and pull the imaginary trigger, sending thousands of my memories into his mind at once. He grunts, and his eyes start darting back and forth, as if he’s dreaming with them open.

I slip away, back to Roselle. Kneeling beside her, I meet her stare. “This shouldn’t hurt, because it will kill you almost instantly. Close your eyes.”

She nods and obeys. I rest one of my palms on her forehead. The other covers her heart. My hands heat up, and I send pulses of energy into her. The moment I stop her heart, I send a neuro-enhancer into her organic implant. Then I strike another burst of energy into her heart, restarting it. Roselle’s back arches, and she gasps for breath. She gazes at me. Her eyes, I suspect, are as blue as mine now. I take her hand.

“It’s okay,” I say soothingly. “I’ve got you.”

She just stares at me in awe.

A fierce growl of pain issues from Hawthorne, startling both me and Roselle. He rises to his feet, his hands in fists, looking murderous. He marches to the edge of the woods and slams his fist against a tree trunk. Cracking noises issue from it, and the tree topples over in a flurry of broken branches and falling leaves.

“What’s happening?” Roselle demands, alarmed. “What’s wrong with him?” Sitting up, she clutches my hand.

“Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s angry. He deserves to be. I just showed him everything that’s happened in my world. He’s processing it.”

Another tree meets a similar fate. For several minutes, we sit and watch Hawthorne tear the forest apart. I’m trying not to be upset. In truth, I feel somewhat hopeful. Hawthorne’s already super strong, and we need that. We need it desperately. I tell myself he doesn’t have to forgive me. He just needs to help me defeat Crow. I know I’m a liar, though. We watch Hawthorne slump against a tree and slide down, holding his head in his hands.

“Can you wait here, Roselle?” I ask.

She nods, pulling her knees to her chest. I rise, cross the yard, and sit beside Hawthorne.

It’s several minutes before he speaks. “You had to kill me, Roselle,” Hawthorne growls, choking back emotion. “I was a monster.”

“If there’d been anything I could’ve done to save us and kill Crow, I would’ve done it,” I whisper. My throat’s too tight to speak louder.

“You love Reykin more than me.” It’s a statement rather than an accusation.

“I don’t know how that happened. Truly, I don’t. Reykin and I saved each other’s lives during the war.”

“He forced you to spy for them—for the Gates of Dawn.”

“Yes, but look closer. Reykin taught me I was worth more—my life had value other than as someone else’s property or as a soldier. He expected me to fight for myself—for my life—not to uphold the power of a corrupt government. Then Census and Crow changed everything. They took you and changed you. I tried to save you, but I couldn’t. Reykin prevented me from choking on your loss . . . His hope is infectious. The way he looks at the world is unique. I need him, Hawthorne. He makes me better.”