The Darkest Legacy (Darkest Min - Alexandra Bracken Page 0,162

something like that would happen.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Liam said vehemently. “Forgive us for thinking our friends might want to come live here with us and do some actual good.”

Some actual good.

The words pierced my anxious swirl of thoughts. Chubs’s whole body stiffened, absorbing that blow.

“You want us to…live here?” I asked, wondering why I couldn’t feel my hands, why my whole body seemed to be going numb.

“Yes,” Liam said. “It’s safer for you. For both of you. Plus, you’ll be with kids your own age. We can figure out a way to get Vida here, too.”

He said it with such sincerity, with all that hope and goodness that was Liam, I couldn’t bring myself to say the words that were locked in my throat.

This was the person who had lifted me out of the snow and carried me to safety.

This was the person who had held me after every nightmare.

This was a person I loved. Who I never wanted to disappoint, not ever.

But the only answer I had to his offer was I’m not a kid.

If I stayed here with them, it would always be this way.

I didn’t want to live outside of the system, not anymore. I didn’t want to live with the uncertainty of one day being discovered. I wanted to be hopeful. I wanted to help make things better for everyone, not just seek safety for myself. Liam and Ruby could help a dozen kids here, but I could help thousands.

I didn’t want to feel powerless anymore.

“I didn’t fight so hard to survive so that I could live out in the woods and commune with nature or whatever bullshit you’re going to accomplish out here,” Chubs said, rising out of his chair.

“Tell me how you really feel,” Liam said, his voice colder than I’d ever heard it. Ruby closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. I wondered if, in that moment, she wanted to disappear. Or if she wanted the rest of us to.

“You’re trying to protect kids? Great. Save them. Be the savior—that was always your favorite role, Liam, because it’s uncomplicated. It doesn’t make you doubt yourself. It doesn’t make you feel bad about having to make hard choices. Meanwhile, the rest of us are back under every lens imaginable, under threat every single day, trying to make actual lasting change happen.”

“Yeah?” Liam said, standing. “And what have you accomplished? Forcing everyone to wear those stupid badges so other people can scorn and belittle them? Making kids go back into the same homes that rejected them in the first place? How are those promised reparations going, by the way? Think we’ll see any sort of apology, any sort of amends by the next century? Or are you going to roll over on that one, too?”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. The world went out of focus. Chubs and Liam stared at each other from across the table, both trying to control their expressions. Finally, Liam turned, disappearing through the living room.

Chubs took one last look at Ruby. Then he was gone, sweeping out of the kitchen. The back door slammed shut. The front door followed a second later. I jumped both times.

Ruby leaned back in her chair, releasing a slow, heavy breath.

“I’m sorry.” The words were strangled by the painful knot in my throat. “I didn’t think it would be like this….”

“This is pretty much exactly how I thought it’d be,” Ruby said faintly. “I knew Chubs would be upset, but I think…I didn’t realized he’d feel so betrayed.”

“You left us,” I whispered. Somehow, I got my feet under me even as it felt like my whole body was dissolving. It was embarrassing to cry, but I couldn’t help myself. This didn’t feel right.

“I did,” Ruby said, her expression crumpling. “I know I did.”

“I can’t stay here,” I told her. “This place is perfect. You will give these kids the love they need. But it’s not for me.”

“I understand,” she said.

Did she? I felt like I needed to explain, like I had to pour my heart out to her so she’d know that I loved her, that I loved him, that I loved the us that used to exist. But I couldn’t be powerless. I couldn’t stay here.

“It’s all right,” Ruby said, coming around the table to hug me. “I promise that it’ll be all right. Everything changes. It has to.”

“Not us,” I cried. “Never us.”

She leaned down, whispering, “It’s painful because we care. Don’t ever stop caring. Don’t