Reckless Cruel Heirs - Olivia Wildenstein Page 0,43

stinging eyes, his body turned gray and then exploded into ash.

“NO!” I hunched over the spot where his body had lain, where only his blood remained, running in rivulets through his ashes and into the fabric of my torn suit. I cried until my voice was hoarse and my eyes burned as violently as my elbow. Even though I welcomed my own death, no glass tore through my vital organs. “Why?” I shrieked at the white sky and the hailing shrapnel, which was probably butchering my face and neck.

I was too numb to feel anything.

Too numb to care.

I rested my torso onto my trembling thighs and my head on the bed of glass. “Why?” I cried. “Why?”

Why did you follow me inside the portal?

Why did I go after the damn apple?

Why didn’t you run away when the ground rumbled?

Why did you sacrifice yourself to save me, a girl you hated?

And why does my heart feel as broken as this glass city?

14

The Rubble

The ground stopped shaking at some point. The glass stopped falling. And my tears dried on my chilled cheeks, salting the little wounds.

I’d stopped crying.

I’d also stopped yelling and pounding my fist at the white sky.

I felt empty and crushed, the gashes on my skin as deep as the ones on my heart and mind.

I tried to cradle my smarting arm against me, but my elbow would neither fully bend, nor would it fully extend. It was stuck somewhere in between and throbbing as though my heart had slid into it. I pressed myself up, then stumbled over the grains of glitter like a lupa pup. The dome over the chrome train had crumbled too. Unlike the buildings which were only half-ruined, jagged edges gleaming like brandished swords, nothing remained of the station, except for the train.

The train which had led Remo and me to this nightmare of glass and concrete, now the repository of his ashes.

I glared down at the spot still stained by his blood. The viscous puddle blurred, then sharpened like the shard that had snuffed out his life. I bent over and grabbed the murder weapon, and then I hurled it at the wrecked skyscraper, yelling my anger and pain at the top of my lungs. Breathing hard, I surveyed the destruction and then lifted my gaze to the ice garden, my black hair whipping in the relentless breeze. I pushed the strands that weren’t clumped together by mud and blood off my face and evaluated the steepness of the mountain. There was no way I could climb it with only one arm. I wasn’t even sure there was a way to climb it with two.

I needed to get out of here, back to Frontier Land, because there was nothing in this world except debris and memories that would forever haunt me. I’d never held my breath that our families would make peace, but now that Remo had died because of me—

I shuddered, my lids crimping over my swollen eyes. And then I tilted my face toward the bright sky, wishing sunshine would breach the clouds and sear away my grief.

“Oh, Great Gejaiwe, why?” I croaked. “Why?”

My tribe’s Great Spirit didn’t send any answer. Not that She’d ever talked to me before, but at that moment, I would’ve given anything to hear Her voice. Or anyone’s voice. But who could survive these machiavellian cells? I didn’t see how I would. Maybe I’d make it back to Frontier Land and die there. Unless Josh told someone where I was, but that would imply he cared about my welfare, and the Daneelie wasn’t known for his selflessness.

I turned and trudged through the wreckage, crunching over the translucent crust, the glare of light hurting my eyes. When I reached the mirrored train platform, I froze. Was that—Was that me? I twisted my face from side to side, and the girl with the clumped and snarled black hair, and pallid skin speckled in blood and trails of mascara also turned her face.

I wasn’t a vain person, but never had I looked so . . . so . . . I couldn’t even find words to describe my appearance. Sickly and unkempt were too weak.

Frightening.

Frightened.

I kneeled to sweep away the shards strewed over the polished metal platform. I’d sensed my face had been hit but hadn’t realized how hard. It looked as though I’d rubbed myself against a cheese grater. I removed my right glove with my teeth, then spit it out and patted my chin and the underside of

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