I hold his gaze as I begin to pull it out anyway. He groans, the sound torn from somewhere deep. Warm blood pours out, slick and thick, staining my hands instantly. Panic spikes in my chest,and before I even realize what I’m doing, I ram the knife back in, tearing more agonized sounds from him.
A chill rattles through me as I scramble backward, using the sudden weakness in his body to break free. I stumble to my feet, staring at him as the world tilts.
Dante rolls onto his back, both hands gripping the knife buried in his gut. Blood winds across his body in thick red rivers, spilling onto the floor, pooling beneath him while his face contorts in sheer, breathtaking pain.
Fuck.
Fucking fuck.
My hand slaps over my mouth, breath catching, body shaking so violently it feels like my bones might fracture.
I stabbed him.
Not an empty gun. Not a harmless click.
A real wound. A real chance he might die.
Thunder crackles outside, the sound sharp and violent as it tears across the sky. For the first time, my hearing is painfully, terrifyingly clear.
I look up to the exit, an idea shooting through my brain.
“Estella,” he sobs, dragging my attention back to him. His eyes lock onto mine, wide and pleading, a silent cry for mercy he has no right to ask for.
But I know better than to help him. Not after everything he’s done. Not after the way he broke me.
I bolt, stepping over his body and sprinting toward the exit. His voice echoes behind me, calling my name, cracking with pain—but I press my palms to my ears, refusing to let it in.
I have to leave him. He doesn’t deserve my hands, my help, my anything.
The moment I burst outside, a violent gust of wind slams into my face, cold enough to slice through my already failing strength. Exhaustion drags at my limbs as the relentlessdownpour soaks into my skin, urging me onward. The drops strike my face and eyes, blurring the world, making it harder to see, harder to breathe.
But I don’t stop. I can’t. I need to get out of here before I do something unforgivable—like turn around and save him.
My soaked fingers fumble for my phone. Rain spatters across the screen instantly, distorting the light into a blinding smear. I squint, blinking hard, trying to focus as the storm roars around me.
There’s only one person who’s ever known how to fix everything—only one who’s dragged me out of a pit deeper than this.
But I don’t even know if he’s still alive. What if calling him makes everything worse? What if they’re tracking him? What if they’re waiting?
“Fuck!” I scream, and just then, a bolt of lightning tears through the sky, striking the tree beside me. It splits in two with a deafening crack before crashing onto the road, cutting off the path to the left.
If I stay here any longer, I’ll be next.
My thoughts snarl and collide, so loud I want to claw them out of my skull. Sniffling, half-sobbing, I tap the phone’s screen, but nothing happens. I tap again, dragging a wet streak across the glass.
“Come on, you piece of shit!” I shout, slapping the phone with the flat of my palm. The sound is wet and dull, drowned by thunder.
I’m shaking uncontrollably, and I’m only spiraling further. Calling Cane is my only shot. My only chance that someone will pick up before I do something irreversible.
It takes several frantic attempts before the call finally goes through. A shaky breath escapes me as I press the phone to my ear. It rings while I walk blindly down the flooded street, wipingrain from my face with trembling hands. My hair sticks to my skin in soaked strands, each one another irritation I can barely stand.
The ringing cuts abruptly.
I’m unavailable right now. Please leave a message after the beep.
“Cane!” I scream into the storm, my voice tearing through the rain as desperation scrapes against every syllable. “Where in the fucking Fucktopia are you?!” The words rip out of me, and underneath them pulses a quiet, foolish hope.
A few seconds of silence stretch on, and tears burn their way to the surface again. I swallow hard, tasting rain and salt.
