Page 95 of Fuse

“So that’s what we did?” Alex murmurs.

“Leveled up,” Fersh snorts back. “Yeah. That’s us. The level-uppers.”

They join in a fit of laughter, giving me a long moment to observe them in full. I can see I played that one right when observing the extra twinkle in Alex’s eyes and the proud blush even on Fersh’s copper skin.

But I can also see all that. Plainly.

As if an invisible artist is standing there with a chisel for Wade’s cheeks and a dripping paintbrush for Fersh’s. And now, I can hear the rush of air in and out of both their lungs, betraying the extra happiness I gave them with the sarcastic but meaningful compliment.

Whoa, yet again.

What the hell is going on with me?

I ask myself the question as I turn my focus inward for a long second. The sensation is like the first day of catching a cold, when I wonder if a cold is all it’ll be. I examine each symptom, one by one, in better detail—and start to notice the little things my grief has clouded from me until now. The extra sizzle in all my nerve endings. The light-gold halo that appears whenever I look at anything that gives off electrical energy. Yes, even humans. Especially humans. That was probably an extra reason why the power outage was so jarring to me.

No.

Not the power outage.

The power redirection.

The power…that’s all still here. Just all in another room.

In the lab.

Where they gave Reece back his power. And his ability to be shielded from Faline’s influence so he could come find me. Only to offer himself back over to her because there was nothing I could do to help him. No matter what I’d done or how hard I’d tried, I’d still turned into his anchor instead of his wings. The chink in his gauntlets, fully exploited by the bitch with the Hos-R-Us lifetime membership.

“Wait.”

I practically shout it out, making the guys dagger their laughter to a stop and snap their attention to me with sharper conviction. Lydia and Foley turn with nearly the same speed.

“Oh, my God.”

But now, my voice is just a rasp. A sound laced with conflict. A lot of conflict. This is the exact mission map I followed before. The same thinking that shut off my logic for the consequences, my consideration for the team, and any sense about how things would turn out if things went wrong and I ended up on Faline’s table, wired to her psychotic whims. Worse, what would happen if Reece came and found me that way and then lost every rational thought in his own damn head about getting me out of there.

“What is it, baby girl?” Lydia moves back in and gently scoops a hand into mine.

“Oh.” It’s almost an afterthought, sluiced away on the rush of my breath as understanding continues to rush my brain. “Oh…my God.”

And in the middle of that same ferocious flood, I’m suddenly thankful for every second of Faline’s electrified hell.

Because what she did to me is the reason I can stand here, about to ask them to do the same thing.

“Don’t fix the power.” I lower my hands all the way down, tempted to punch them into fists at the ends of my A-framed arms. I’m ready for this skirmish.

I think.

No. I know.

Nothing else is an option.

I do this—take the crazy, massive risk of this—or accept a life without Reece in it.

Not. An. Option.

And so, it’s this option.

“Don’t do what?” Fershan rocks his head back, giving away his incredulity.