Ayda
Even with Drew’s hand wrapped around mine, holding the gun to his head, I wasn’t sure I could do it. There was conviction and confidence behind his eyes as his hand squeezed mine, but all I could do was cry. The unbroken sobs that were thick in my throat and chest made every bone in my body ache, but my heart…
My heart was in my eyes, begging Drew not to ask me to do this.
I couldn’t live with myself if he died at my hand. I couldn’t live knowing that his blood was spilled because of something I’d done, even if I’d been forced into it. The truth was, I couldn’t survive this without him. I needed him more than I could ever have admitted, even to myself.
As I met his eyes, I realized that the moniker Cortez had given the two of us, was absolutely fitting.
Romeo and Juliet.
She’d sacrificed herself when she realized he was gone. The thought of living without him had been too much to bear.
For the first time in my twenty-five years of life, Ifinallyunderstood. I knew in that moment that if mine was the gun that killed Drew, I would go through every single one of them at my own head until I found the next loaded chamber,because death was surely better than living without him.
Swallowing almost compulsively, I pushed my forehead against Drew’s with the last ounce of strength I possessed. It was a silent promise that I would be strong for him if I had to be.
Then I squeezed the trigger.
The empty click had my breath leaving me in one swift stream, the sob I’d been clinging to breaking free as I threw the gun away and brought my hand to his cheek.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Drew’s palm covered mine quickly, his cheek leaning into our touch as he closed his eyes and exhaled. “That’s my girl. You did good. You always do good.” When he looked back up at me, his breathing became more erratic.
The hand still left around my waist tried to pull me closer, but there wasn’t anywhere for us to go. We were a tangled mess of arms and legs, dirt and blood, heavy breaths and falling tears.
“I love you,” he whispered again.
Cortez’s boot hit the side of Drew’s body, forcing us both to flinch in surprise. “Get on with it, doggy. Play your part properly. Kiss her dirty tears away before you kill her.”
I could feel the tension in Drew’s jaw under my hand. Cortez was pressing every button he had and he knew it. I was a mess. My face was sore from being pushed into the dirt and glass on the floor, and my skull ached from being knocked out, dragged around by my hair, and the crushing weight of the fat bastard who had been made my warden. Drew wasn’t faring much better. The cut on his head was still bleeding. I could feel the thick liquid pooling against my hand. His eye was swelling and his lips were cut up and split. That shouldprobably have been the single kiss we’d had that would be less than passionate due to the circumstances… and yet, it wasn’t.
I was the one who instigated it, knowing he would never want to put me in a position like that, and the moment our lips touched, I had sanctuary. For one blissful moment in time, it was just the two of us again. Not even the pain bothered me. I clung to him with everything I had, the familiarity of his lips giving me the last push of strength I needed.
Pulling away, my eyes met his, and though my voice was shaky, it was filled with just as much conviction as his had been. “Do it.”
Cortez leaned closer in to us again, his eyes switching from me to Drew and back again over and over, but Drew refused to look away or let me go.
“You heard her, Tucker. You’re up.”
Drew’s hands tightened around me before he unwound them from my wrist and reached blindly into the box. His fingers drifted through the weapons, shifting them along the base until he found the one he wanted. When he eventually pulled it out, he readjusted it in his grip, catching it into a tighter hold and feeling the weight of it in his hand.
“Cortez?” he said quietly.
“I don’t do requests,” Cortez answered sharply. “Put the gun to her head and pull the trigger.”
“I’ll pull the trigger when that dirty rat of yours pulls his dick away from my fucking back.”
Just like that, Cortez’s attention snapped away from us to look at the two men behind Drew, and the second his focus was on trying to figure out who the rat in their club was, Drew raised his elbow up high and smashed the end of the gun square into Cortez’s jaw.
All hell broke loose. Cortez didn’t take kindly to being hit, and neither did his minions. I felt the grip on my hair almost instantly and the cold barrel of the very obviously loaded weapon at my temple as Drew was punched and kicked mere feet away.
It probably wasn’t my smartest move, but I couldn’t sit there and do nothing. The moment one of the men stepped around to get in a better punch, I kicked out my leg, the heel of my shoe digging into the back of his knee forcing him to fall. My hair was almost yanked from my skull in a fistful, but everything came to a screaming halt when I felt the cold, biting edge of Cortez’s knife against my throat.
“Enough,” he shouted in a growl, while all I could feel was the pressure on my skin.
“Let’s just fucking end him. This is going on too long. Let’s blow this place like we planned,” one of the Emps shouted, the frustrations in his voice clear as his head snapped from side to side and he began to breathe like a bull.
