"I'm sor--"
"Get the fuck out!" I shriek.
"I-I'll just go find your doctor," the frightened woman says before running away.
No. No. He can't…not again. No, no, no, no, no. You can't be that cruel. No, oh, fuck. I can't breathe. I can't fucking breathe. Every choked attempt and no air enters. This can't be happening. No. If it was anyone this time, it was supposed to be me. Me. I can't. I can't…
The door opens again, and it is official. I've gone insane. Lexie stands in the doorway holding a cup of coffee, staring at me with concern as I choke on my grief and pain. "Jesus Christ." She sets down the cup to rush to my side. "Joanna? Shit, breathe. Just breathe." She touches my arm, and I actually feel it. Oh, fuck. I've really gone mad. "Shit." She hustles back to the door, throwing it open. "Dr. Ambrose!"
She's almost back at my bedside when Jem dashes in. At the sight of him what little chance I had at breathing vanishes. I'm starting to see spots. "Joanna?" Jem asks.
"What's the matter with her?" Lexie asks.
"I think she's having a panic attack." Jem sits on the bed and takes my good hand, placing it over his heart. It's beating. It's actually beating. His sapphire eyes lock with mine. "Joanna Fallon, listen to my voice. Listen to my words. You are safe. You're with us. You're safe. But you need to breathe. Please breathe, my love. Like me." He takes a deep breath, chest rising and falling. With a wince, he exhales. Then again. "I am right here with you. I am not going anywhere. I promise, just please breathe. Joanna, breathe!" I gasp and expel the stale air in my lungs. Thank God. Thank you, God. I breathe in and out in time with him. He chuckles as tears fall from his eyes. He wipes them away and kisses my forehead as I pant. "Excellent, my love. Excellent."
"She-She-She told me you were dead," I say when I can finally speak.
"We are," Lexie says. I look to her. "Well, Liberty and Nightingale anyway."
I glance at Jem. "It's for the best. For Lexie. If they think Liberty's dead, and Lexie isn't, suspicion should dissipate. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, my love." He kisses my forehead again. "One of us was supposed to be here at all times until you woke."
Lexie pulls up a chair to my bedside. "My fault." She touches my leg. "You gave us quite the scare there."
"I gave you a scare?" I hold up my demolished hand. "What the hell took you so long? When the fifth signal popped up, you were supposed to swoop in and attack. That was the plan."
"I'm sorry, okay? It took longer to fly in from Independence than I thought. I couldn't exactly come commercial, and I had to instruct the decoy and fight Ache in the morning so Cain would believe I was still there. It was your plan. And it worked. He's dead, and we're alive. We win."
I stare at Jem, who doesn't remove his gaze from the floor. "He's dead? You're sure?" I ask. "What happened?"
"Well, I rescued you," Lexie begins, "went back in, yanked the rod from Jem, picked him up, and flew us out just as the boat blew. My force field shielded us from the worst of it. Guess the marine unit missed little old us as we were a hairsbreadth from that huge fireball. Knocked us into the drink."
"You're sure Jordan was on the boat when it exploded?"
"Oh, yes," Lexie says with a miniscule smile. "I saw him right before we took off."
"He must have regained consciousness when Lexie reached me," Jem says solemnly. "Pressed the detonator. Tried to take us out with him."
"But he didn't have--"
I stop myself. Though Lexie's face has frozen and her slightly scared, downcast eyes tell all. Understanding fills me. I can even picture the scene. The avenging angel swoops in to save her friend, yet on her way to Jem picks up the detonator from the platform. Jordan remains unconscious on the floor as she saves Jem, then triggers the bombs as she glides out. She murdered him. She could have gone back to arrest him, instead she blew him up. And his goons. Holy fuck.
"But he didn't have what?" Jem asks.
Lexie finally meets my gaze. All I see inside their dark pools is pain. I'd recognize that look anywhere. The same look I saw in mine whenever I thought of Justin. Cain tormented her for years. He beat her, burned her, tortured her. Then he slaughtered the love of her life. He'd escaped custody once, escaped death another. He'd keep coming for all of us. Without question. She did it for love. For us. How can I condemn that? And what good could it serve for him to know? I'll carry this one for him. For them both.
I break our wordless exchange to turn to Jem. "What? I'm sorry?"