The paper still had traces of dried tears on it Whitney's and my own fell now, dampening the ink further. I lay in Lewis's arms, soaking his shirt, unable to stop. I had never been someone who cried easily, but since my rebirth something in me had come loose. Grief found me faster than it used to.
I hated how powerless it made me feel. I had come back lived again and what did I have to show for it? No special gifts, no hidden strength, no edge that the stories always promised. Just enemies who had been circling for years, patient and invisible, waiting for the first real crack to split me open.
"Carl, I'm powerless. All I can do is watch Whitney walk into danger."
Lewis stroked my hair slowly. "Elena, we're not gods. Even gods have limits. We can't save everyone living our own lives well is already something. Your sister and I talked. Properly."
I looked up at him. "What did she say?"
