I’m tired.
But I have to see Bay.
If she hears I’ve been shot, it’ll send her spiraling. She’s going to act a fool and have whoever drives her here go as fast as possible, or she’ll do it herself.
And I don’t need her killing herself either.
“Stay down, Wallace!”
Yeah, no shit.
But it makes Juice feel better, so whatever. It’s his ammo to talk in stressful situations, and who the fuck am I to rain on his parade? I couldn’t tell him to shut the hell up, even if I wanted to, because breathing is becoming harder and I’m trying to save it for when I see Bay.
I want to ask Juice if he’s called her but with the lack of oxygen, I can’t form the words. My best bet is to wait this out as much as possible until the paramedics or whomever gets here. Until I can tell Bay I’m fine myself, even though I’m failing just to keep from passing out.
I hear Hot Rod bark more orders, but his voice is starting to sound muffled and far away.
He knows what to do.
He knows what to say.
And still, my biggest regret is not being able to do it myself.
I promised Roger I’d keep the girls safe, and I’m going to stay true to my word.
Everything I’ve ever done…was for her.
Even if I don’t pull through, Bay, Ellie, and Mae will be kept under the same protection as they have been. The Nameless know what needs to happen if I don’t make it out of any perilous predicament I may get in. They will all be protected under the foundation Roger made and the one I continued to carry out when he handed over the reins.
Everything I own, my bank accounts, my car…everything goes toher.
I’m sorry, Astor.
I should’ve told you.
And she’s the last thing I see when consciousness finally leaves me.
TWO
bay
“Where?!”I shove past Juice, expecting him to immediately point out where my Levi is, but I run into Hot Rod instead. His massive chest blocks my speedy path to Levi’s wounded body, and I’m so overwhelmed I’m not entirely sure where to start but the obvious. “Whereishe?”
Blood.
It’s fucking everywhere.
All over his tatted biceps, within the fibers of his light blue shirt, some even smeared on his forehead, and it’s enough to cover the black tattoos on his collarbone, too.
My heart leaps to my throat as imminent fear drapes over me. He’scoveredin blood.
It’s everywhere.
Everywhere.
I feel my own drain from my face. Levi’s right-hand man refusing to speak or give me any indication of what the hell is happening doesn’t fill me with hope either.
“They’re tryin’ to save him, Bay,” he replies as softly as he can. “They—” I move around his frame to see for myself, but he copies my actions and remains an ever-hating impediment.
