"Police! Everyone inside, come out with your hands up!"
Someone unfriendly comes up from behind, rough hands grabbing at my arms and shoving me forward. I refuse to let go of Meg as we’repushed and pulled in the same direction, leaving the roar of commotion behind. A strangled noise rips from my throat as I fight, twisting and struggling, my flat shoes dragging against the carpet as I’m hauled through the side door.
The lights in the room flicker back on, stabilizing at last. I wrench my head to look back past the suited man trying to block my view. Wyatt fights the effects of the taser, scrambling forward into Dax, but another sharp zap sends him crumbling again. It doesn’t stop him from snarling my name, outstretching a hand.
Dax curses, stuck beneath Wyatt’s weight. Huxley looks at me longingly, but his body remains taut, forced still by the cold steel pressing against his skull. I catch a final glance of Garrett whispering something into Axel’s ear, hopefully consoling him whilst embracing his shaking body. The door slams closed, cutting me off from those who hold my heart. Instant panic for their safety flares, but I can’t go back and change my decision.
Clinging onto Meg’s arm, we’re dragged down a short passage and thrust into the night. A car is waiting; its rear door has already popped open, and we’re thrown inside. Harrison drops into the passenger seat, his henchman skidding over the hood to jump into the driver’s seat and peel us into the busy main road.
The car swerves sharply as the driver cuts through the traffic, putting distance between us and the casino. The city lights blur outside the window, streaking past in a mess of neon through the windows. I barely feel the jolt of the ride. My fingers are still locked around Meg’s arm, where we’ve been thrust into the back seat, but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t even flinch.
“Meg,” I whisper, my voice shaking. I shake her arm, trying to anchor her, but she’s never seemed more distant. Her eyes are cast aside, her hair matted. I release my grip, not knowing where or how to touch her. I settle on taking her hands and holding them between us. “Hey, I’m right here. It’s just us.”
Meg blinks a few times, slowly returning to the present. What has happened to her that she can zone out so easily that she doesn't care what happens to her body? Meg pulls back her hands and twists, curling in on herself without looking at me. I can only watch, stunned, as her body presses against the door like she wants to disappear into themetal. Her breathing is shallow, and her head is tilted slightly downward.
I glance toward the front seat, where Harrison is relaxed, his elbow propped against the window, fingers tapping idly against the doorframe. In his other hand is the revolver that churns my stomach. I feel sick just looking at it, not having the time to think of Nixon. To mourn the man I know, regardless of who or what he was to others. Harrison mutters quick instructions to his right-hand man, and although he isn’t looking at us, I feel his attention lingering. We don’t have much time.
I shift, twisting toward Meg. I try to soften my voice, to keep it steady even as my own panic claws at my throat. “Meg, please. Say something.” She still doesn’t acknowledge me. Her blue eyes, those same sharp, knowing eyes that always used to catch mine with a teasing smirk or an exasperated roll, are hollow. A ghost of the girl I knew.
Tears sting the backs of my eyes, but I swallow them down. I can’t cry, nor can I allow the frustration in me to bubble over. I could scream until my lungs burned at the injustice of it all. I’ve finally got her back, have her here to hold, and it’s like she’s not here at all. Swallowing hard, I press my hand over hers, gripping her cold fingers.
“I know you’re scared. I am too. But we’re gonna figure this out, okay? We’re getting out of this.” I promise quietly, hoping that if I can at least bolster her, I will feel a sense of renewed confidence myself. The smallest twitch in her fingers beats against mine, and a rush of hope floods my system. It’s something. Encouraged, I keep going, my voice growing more anxious.
“The boys will come for us. They won’t stop. You know that, right? They’re probably already tearing that place apart, trying to get to us.” Her lips part slightly, but no sound comes out. I don’t want to overwhelm her, but I also know I can’t do anything to help us without her being at least semi-responsive. I lean closer, wrapping my arms around her body, and this time, I’m not met with the same stiffness.
“You’re not alone anymore, Meg. I’m here now. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Finally, her head moves just a fraction, barely a shift in posture, but it’s enough. Enough for me to see the silent tears trailing down her cheeks. Something inside me breaks. She’s crying, but the murkiness in her eyes is not relief. It’s not hope. It’s resignation.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Don’t do that. Don’t give up.”A sob catches in my throat, but I don’t let it out. “I need you, Meg. I’ve been trying to find you. I never gave up on you. Please don’t give up on me.” I plead, my voice cracking. My breath stutters as I drop my forehead against her shoulder, and my body trembles. We’ve come so far, but it suddenly feels like we’ve made no progress at all. “It can’t end like this.”
The car speeds us into oblivion, but I can’t consider anything beyond this back seat right now. Then, so quietly I almost miss it, Meg finally speaks.
“It’s already over.” Meg’s voice is broken. Detached. Like she truly believes there’s nothing left worth living for. Not even me. She turns her head and blinks at me, and with an ache in my chest, I realize she’s already slipped too far. She’s already bracing for the worst.
The car jerks as we take a sudden turn, and Harrison hums in amusement. “You might want to save your breath, sweetheart,” he muses, still not looking back at us. “No sense in trying to fix something that’s already shattered.”
I want to scream. I want to claw at him, to shake Meg, and to fight until my body gives out. But all I can do is tighten my grip and pray that I can still reach her before it’s too late. That the Souls will find us somehow, someway. I must be strong enough to carry the both of us.
It’s as if there’s been a personality shift, from the version of Meg that used to console and tell me nothing was unbeatable, to the introvert I used to be, hiding from this world. Hiding from ever feeling hopeless again, but I’m not completely hopeless now. I know there’s something worth living for. I know someone will save us.
Chapter Forty Six
I barely register the voice over the ringing in my ears. My limp form is pressed against Dax, my breathing shallow and uneven. The pounding grows more insistent, rattling the door on its hinges. A second later, the distinct crack of the door splintering cuts through us all.
A swat team swarms the room, a plastic barricade shoving the suited man against the walls. The goon holding Huxley at gunpoint makes a run for the rear door and is shot in the back without hesitation.
The Souls sit stock still in our seats, clearly distinguishing between the assailants and the victims. It doesn’t lessen how roughly we’re yanked from our seats and patted down, but without resisting, we’re escorted out without the need for handcuffs. At our backs, a few more shots are fired, and with each one, my eye twitches.
The casino is a ghost town, having been completely evacuated beneath the clamor of slot machines. Stripped of life, its gaudy neon lights flicker weakly against the suffocating quiet. The scent of stale smoke and spilled liquor lingers in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood that won’t leave my nose. Half-finished drinks sit abandoned on tables, their condensation pooling onto velvet tabletops.
My legs feel like dead weight as I stagger forward, barely held upright by the grip of the agent guiding me toward the exit. Dax is tugged beside me, his eyes darting around and trying to get my attention. But I don’t care about any of it. I don’t care about the barking orders of the SWAT team; Idon’t care that Nixon’s body is lying on a games table, I don’t care what’s going to happen to us. All I care about is Avery and Meg’s safety. Whether I beat myself up about misplacing that deadly bullet or not depends on what happens in the next ten minutes.
As my senses come back to me, the effects of the taser wear off, and a dull roar builds in my head. Louder than the ringing, louder than the shouting, drowning out everything else. I yank myself free of the agent’s hold, stumbling forward ungracefully. A heavy hand clamps onto my shoulder, wrenching me back.
“Stand down!” I throw my weight against them, my chest heaving.
“Wait, there’s… we need to help my—” I cut myself off. What am I supposed to call her? My girlfriend? My adoptive sister that I like to choke and sink my cock into?
Wrenching myself free for a second time, I spin and hold my hands up, staring down the barrel of yet another gun. The agent regards me with caution. “Two girls have been taken hostage by an ex-con called Harrison. They might still be here.”
