She presses her palms to the seeping wounds. Her chest heaves, and the heavier she breathes, the faster the blood pumps from her body. I see the moment desperation and panic creep into her eyes, and I revel in it. With a growl, she charges toward me, and I meet her halfway. Abena flips the knife into an ice pick grip and swoops her arm in a hooking motion, slicing down toward my chest. At the last second, I brace my wrist against hers just as it sweeps past me and grip her elbow with my free hand. Turning, I slam my bowie knife into her stomach, twist it, then wrench the blade free.
Her scream bounces off the walls as she bends over, palms slapping the floor.
“To the death, Auntie,” I whisper.
I raise the knife above my head to deliver the final blow to her spinal cord when a blast hits me in the back, sending me tumbling forward. Pain explodes through me, and through it, I dimly hear a lion’s roar of fury and pain. Shaking my head, I push myself to my hands and knees, trying to suck in air, but instead it’s like I’m inhaling shards of glass.
I look up, and Malachi is above me, a gun in his hands, aimed toward one of the balconies. Another shot rings out, anddimly I’m aware of a body plummeting to the throne room floor. Shaking my head again, to try and clear it of the fog creeping in from the sides, I crawl toward Abena, who is pushing to her knees.
No.That desperation that I glimpsed in Abena’s eyes just moments ago whistles through me, wild and burning hot. I’ve come so close. No one is going to steal her death from me. Rip my mother’s justice from me.
With the last of my strength, I feel for the knife I dropped, grab it, and plunge it into her neck. She gasps, clawing at her throat. Blood bubbles from the wound and her mouth. As she falls back, I tumble on top of her.
“See you in hell.”
Her eyes dim, then glaze over. Fierce satisfaction and a brutal joy soar through me.I did it, Ma. I did it.
“Eshe.” Pain racks my body, and I gasp again. Blood fills my throat, mouth, and I cough, trying to clear them. “Baby, open your eyes.Look at me.”
The demand in Malachi’s voice, the ache in it, impels me to lift my lashes. Hell, I don’t remember closing them.
“Don’t you fucking die on me,” he orders, his eyebrows drawn down over his nose. His gray-blue eyes are nearly black as he stares down at me, cradling me against his chest. Behind him, I glimpse Tera, Nef, Kenya, and Maura, worry and grief etching their faces. I know it’s because of me. This pain… it can’t be good. He buries his face in my hair. “Don’t leave me, Eshe,” he rasps directly in my ear. “Don’t you… Everyone who’s ever mattered—who I’ve ever loved—has left me, I can’t lose you, too. I can’t, baby. Please don’t leave me here without you. I’ve waited so long…”
A shudder quakes through his big body, and I try to lift my arms, to wrap them around him, to promise I’m not going anywhere. But neither my arms nor my tongue seems to be working.
And as I sink into darkness, my ears and soul ring with his tortured, hoarse scream.
CHAPTER NINETEENMalachi
The steady beep and hiss of the machines monitoring Eshe’s vitals and keeping her alive fill the air in the large, private hospital room. It’s been three days since she was rushed into surgery for the devastating gunshot wound to her back. If that rifle shot had been just a centimeter off, it would have penetrated her heart. But it ended up piercing her right side and nicking her lung. Thank God, Doc was able to stabilize the wound before the ambulance got there. And yeah, I saidthank God. Because in that span of seventy-two hours, God and I have come to an understanding where we’re at least on speaking terms again. Especially since the doctors said those minutes and that care had made the difference between Eshe being alive long enough to make it to that OR and ending up with a sheet pulled over her head and a tag on her toe.
Shit.
I can’t even think about that option.
Can’t…
My breath catches in my throat, and I grind the heels of my palms against my burning eyes. I’ve slept maybe a total of twelve hours in the last three days. And I haven’t moved my ass from this chair except to take a piss. None of us have.
Hospital rules mandate only one person should be in here at a time, given the severity of Eshe’s injuries. But after the first time the doctors tried telling us that, no one attempted toagain. Not one of us has budged: Tera, Nef, Doc, Kenya, Maura, Sienna, me—even Jamari. We’re all crowded on the couches, chairs, floors.
They refuse to leave their new oba.
I refuse to leave my new… everything.
I grind harder until green sparks flare behind my lids and a low ache makes its presence known, joining the others all over my body. At least I was able to have the cuts inflicted by Abena tended to by one of the residents here. They also cleaned and dressed the amputation of my finger. I’ve been so consumed with Eshe, I haven’t given much thought to that. Now I brush a touch over the bandage, and then my gaze drifts to Eshe’s hand and her missing pinkie. Abena could take the entire fucking hand if it means Eshe pulls out of this whole and fully healed.
“I just talked to Penn,” Sienna says, standing from the couch and setting her phone on the arm. She lifts her arms, stretching. “She said she’s feeling much better and is on her way here to be with us. Her parents aren’t happy about it, but she’s already pissed about missing out on everything else, so not much they can do.” She snorts.
“I’m sure Eshe’ll like seeing her when she eventually wakes up.” Maura walks to the side of the bed I’m not posted on. She brushes her fingertips over the back of Eshe’s hand. “Where’s that damn doctor? He hasn’t been in here this morning to see her. He said she should be waking up by now,” she snaps.
I prop my elbows on my thighs, leaning forward and studying Eshe’s face. The dense fringe of her lashes. The tilted slopes of her cheekbones. The plump fullness of her mouth. The thick mass of her curls splayed around her head. The steady rise and fall of her chest. The tube inside her mouth, running down into her chest, helping her breathe.
In some ways, she appears to be just sleeping.
But it’s more than that. She’s not conscious. She’s beyond me. Separated from me.
Away from me.
