Believe Me (Shatter Me, #6.5) (18)
Sam folds her arms atop her stack of papers, peering up at me from her seat. “Great. Then you’ll understand why we need Juliette to tour the continent. She has to make appearances—physical appearances—”
“No.”
“They are rioting in the streets, Warner.” Sam’s voice is unusually hard. “Against us. Not against The Reestablishment—against us!”
“People are impatient and ungrateful,” I say sharply. “Worse: they are stupid. They don’t understand that change takes time. Clearly they assumed that the fall of The Reestablishment would bring instant peace and prosperity to the world, and in the two weeks since we’ve been in power, they can’t understand why their lives haven’t miraculously improved.”
“Yes, okay, but the solution isn’t in ignoring them. These people need hope—they need to see her face—”
“She’s done televised broadcasts. She’s made a couple of local appearances—”
“It’s not enough,” Sam says, cutting me off. “Listen. We all know the only reason Juliette isn’t doing more is because of you. You’re so worried about keeping her safe that you’re putting our entire movement in jeopardy. She did this, Warner. It was her choice to take on The Reestablishment— it was her choice to carry this burden. The world needs her now, which means you have to get your shit together. You have to be braver than this.”
I stiffen at that, at the surgical precision of her blade.
I say nothing.
Sam exhales in the wake of my silence, something like a laugh. “You think I don’t understand what it’s like to be with someone whose life is constantly in danger? You think I don’t understand how terrifying it is to watch them step foot out the door every day? Do you have any idea how many attempts have been made on Nouria’s life?”
Still, I say nothing.
“It’s really fucking hard,” she says angrily, surprising me with her language. Sam pushes both hands through her hair before rubbing her eyes again. “It’s really, really, really hard.”
“Yes,” I say quietly.
She meets my eyes then. “Look. I know you’re not doing this on purpose. I know you only want the best for her. But you’re holding her back. You’re holding all of us back. I don’t know exactly what you two have been through—whatever it was, it must’ve been serious, because Juliette’s clearly more worried for you than she is for herself, but—”
“What?” I frown. “That’s not—”
“Trust me. She and I have had a lot of conversations about this. Juliette doesn’t want to do anything to scare you. She thinks you’re processing something right now— she wouldn’t tell me what—and she’s adamant that she won’t do anything risky until she’s sure you can handle it. Which means I need you to handle it. Now.”
“I’m doing fine,” I say, my jaw clenching.
“Wonderful.” Sam generates a smile. “If you’re doing fine, go ahead and tell her that. Encourage Juliette to go on an international tour—or at minimum, a national one. Juliette knows how to talk to crowds; when she’s looking people in the eye they believe her. I know you’ve seen it. In fact, you probably know better than anyone that no one cares more about these people than she does. She genuinely cares about their families, their futures—and right now, the world needs a reminder. They need reassurance. Which means you have to let her do her job.”
I feel my heart rate spike. “I would never keep her from doing her job. I just want her to be safe.”
“Yes—you prioritize her safety above all else, to the detriment of the world. You’re making decisions from a place of fear, Warner. You can’t help heal the planet if you’re only thinking about what’s best for one person—”
“I never got into this to heal the planet,” I say sharply. “I have never pretended to care about the future of our pathetic civilization, and if you ever took me for a revolutionary, that was your mistake. I see now that I have to make something clear, so remember this: I would happily watch the world go up in flames if anything happened to her, and if that’s not enough for you, you can go to hell.”
Sam shoves back her chair so fast it makes a piercing, skin-crawling screech that echoes around the near-empty dining tent. She’s on her feet now, boring a hole in the floor with the heat of her anger. The few faces still dotting the room turn to look at us; I feel their surprise, their mounting curiosity. Sam is diminutive in stature, but fierce when she chooses to be, and right now she looks as if she’s considering killing me with her bare hands.
“You are not special,” she says. “You are not the only one of us who’s ever suffered. You’re not the only one who lies awake at night worrying for the safety of their loved ones. I have no sympathy for your pain, or your problems.”
“Good,” I say, more than matching her anger. “As long as we understand each other.”
Sam shakes her head and throws up her hands, looking for a moment like she might laugh. Or cry. “What on earth does she see in you? You’re nothing but a callous, coldhearted narcissist. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. I hope you know how lucky you are that Juliette tolerates your presence. You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for her. I sure as hell wouldn’t vouch for you.”