That bullet’s for Greyson.
I get a glimpse of my Monster without Dad’s body obstructing my line of sight. There’s a pool of blood around the man that I love. His breaths are shallow—he’s incapable of fighting back.
It’s my turn to fight back.
I slowly shift my gaze to my father, who’s writhing on the ground. His lips are moving, he’s saying something, but I can’t seem to hearanything.
Instead of giving Luther Sharpe the chance to plead, I do what my brother promised me he would. I find it in myself to haul my ass to my feet, and I stumble up to my father, panting.
And I do what Eric failed to, because my father is a tricky fucking bastard.
Firing the gun once sends me to one knee, and Dad shouts in raw agony as a bullet lands in his useless dick.
For Mom.
My arms lift of their own accord, and the next shot has me slumping, but it lands true in the center of his chest.
For Eric.
I brace myself on one hand, gasping for breath, trying to see the black spots overtaking my sight…
“Scarlett,” Luther rasps, voice cutting through the ringing in my ears, blood sputtering from his mouth.
I fire a final round into his head.
For me.
The gun clatters to the ground beside me. I slump forward, useless, as my vision swims and the pounding in my head wins over. I manage, somehow, to reach forward, grasping for Greyson’s hand. He doesn’t move, and I can’t see his face.
He’s probably dead.
I’mabout to die.
Perhaps it was always meant to end this way. Us, lying in his blood and my pain, dying side by side after defeating the final, true monster that’s haunted our lives.
At least we do it together.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Greyson
Iam the physical embodiment of pain. It radiates through my muscles, ligaments, and down to the marrow of my bones.
A stasis of sheer agony becomes my home for what feels like an eternity. Nothing penetrates through the pain except for a single thought—Scarlett. I don’t know where she is or if she’s hurt. I don’t even know if she’salive. A clawing need to get to her, hold her, is my only tether to life. It’s the only reason I endure the pain rather than allowing myself to slip into a void of nothingness.
Gradually, over time, the sharp, stinging, searing agony dulls into a slightly more manageable yet pounding ache. Then, the ache itself dulls, and awareness begins to return to me—one drip at a time.
The last time I woke up in a hospital after a long bout of unconsciousness was when Scarlett poisoned me and escaped. When I manage to force my eyes openthistime, the fear I felt nearly a year ago returns. Only, in this instance, I’m not afraid of Scarlett running away. I’m terrified of her escaping into a much more final end.
She was on her knees, bleeding from her head, eyes foggy when I got to her. She looked like she was hanging onto life by a thin thread. At the time, I wasn’t faring much better, which prohibited me from taking care of her and checking her wounds. I don’t know what happened to her in my absence, while I was fighting off the men who cameto invade the Nighthawks compound—I only know that when I got to my office, there was a corpse besideLuther, who was strangling the life from Scarlett.
I’m alone in a sterile, empty, fuckinglonelyhospital room. There’s a clip on my finger and a few stickers on my bare chest, connected to a monitor beside me. My entire torso is covered with bandages patching up the bullets that penetrated around my vest—I don’t know how long I’ve been out, but it’s long enough that I manage to sit up without ripping open any stitches and killing myself.
As soon as I start tearing the sticky pads off myself, an alarm goes off. My mind flashes back to the alarm that announced Luther breaking into the compound, and I wince. A desperate need to find Scarlett overwhelms me. Shehasto be alive. If she isn’t…
I’ll say goodbye to Max and my unit before joining her in whatever life follows this one.
I manage to swing my legs over the side of the bed, groaning at the many aches and pangs in my body, just as the door to my room opens and Doctor Ross walks in, shortly followed by Cain.
