Page 63 of The City Of Fractured Memory

A traitorous tear tracks down my cheek.

“You will not do this,” I snap, pushing him back, smothering the sting of his words. “This isn’t justice, it’s vengeance. It won’t bring her back!”

Two wardens seize Xavier by the arms, dragging him back as he tries to fight them off. I grab his face, forcing him to look at me.

“Xavier, listen! This isn’t the way,” I say firmly, my voice trembling, but steady enough to cut through his rage. “I know you’re hurting. I know. But this—this won’t bring her back.”

My words hit him like a spell. For a long, taut moment, he stares at me, chest heaving, eyes bright with tears he refuses to shed, trembling on the edge of violence. And then, slowly, the fight bleeds out of him and he sags, the warden’s strong grip the only thing stopping him from collapsing to his knees.

Riven straightens his coat, his expression unreadable, though his jaw is tight, the faintest bruise already blooming there from Xavier’s first blow.

His eyes flick back to me. “Grief makes dangerous men,” he says quietly. “You can’t protect him forever.”

Then he turns and walks away, boots echoing down the hall, leaving behind a silence that hums with unbearable tension.

The Chief nods grimly to the wardens once Riven is out of sight. “Let him go.”

I loop an arm through Xavier’s, quickly steering him toward the exit before Starling changes his mind and locks him up again. “Come on,” I murmur, avoiding the reproachful looks of the wardens as we pass. “We’ll go back to my place. We’ll figure this out together.”

But as we walk, he refuses to look at me, and I can’t help, but feel like something has permanently changed between us, something we might never recover from.

Xavier paces like a caged beast, the light from the fireplace flickering over his clenched fists and wild eyes. Stryx sits perched on the edge of our table, her ears flicking back and forth irritably while I lean against the mantel, tapping my fingers repeatedly as I watch him quickly unravel.

“You’re not listening to me,” Xavier snaps, his voice cracking with exhaustion and fury. “Riven is behind all of this. The cult, the notes, the murders—he’s been pulling the strings from the start. I’m going to the Chief. He needs to know.”

“You can’t,” I say sharply, pushing off the mantle. “We don’t know if Starling is corrupt or not. If you go to him with this, Riven will hear of it before you’ve even opened your mouth. He has influence in the Division, remember? You’ll get yourself arrested again, or worse.”

Xavier spins to face me, his eyes fever-bright. “So we do nothing? Sit here and wait for him to kill again? For him to kill you?”

“He didn’t kill Vesper!” The words escape me before I can soften them, surprising even myself. The room goes still. The fire crackles quietly, Stryx’s gaze snapping to mine, wide and warning.

Xavier’s expression hardens, his voice low and shaking. “Don’t you dare say that. How dare you defend him.”

“I’m saying he couldn’t have,” I speak carefully, though my pulse hammers as I reveal the truth of that night to him. “He was with me, Xavier. He saved Stryx’s life that night. You’re angry, I understand, but–”

“You don’t understand anything!” Xavier roars. “You didn’t see what he did to my family! You didn’t see what his curse did to Vesper! Every day I watched her fade, piece by piece–” He breaks off, shoving his hand through his hair. “You think he’s some misunderstood saviour because he helped you once? That’s what he wants you to think. He’s been playing you since the start, and you’re a damn fool to believe him.”

I fold my arms, awful doubt creeping into the back of my mind, but not about Riven. “Then explain something to me, Xavier.”

He freezes at the tone in my voice.

“You just said he was behind the cult, that he sent the notes,” I continue slowly. “But I never told you about him being behind the notes, or Raph warning us about the cult. Which means…” I take a step closer, my voice lowering. “You already knew about it.”

His face drains of colour.

It confirms my suspicions, but damn it if it doesn’t feel like a punch in the gut.

“I never told you about that,” I repeat softly. “Neither of us did.”

The silence that ensues is long, oppressive.

“Octavia–” he starts, but then his words break off into a strangled gasp.

His knees buckle.

“Xavier?” I breathe, lunging forward as he falls, catching him just before his head hits the floor.

Black veins bloom beneath his skin like cracks in marble, spreading up his neck, across his temples. His body convulses violently, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.