Piper reaches us first, dropping to her knees beside Raven, hands hovering uncertainly over her bloodied form. “Oh my God, Lee… Are you okay?”
Raven makes a sound that might be a laugh or a sob, her face pressed against my shoulder. “Not… even… close,” she manages between ragged breaths.
Behind us, the warehouse groans and shudders as another section of roof collapses inward, sending a fresh column of flame shooting into the night sky. The heat pulses against our backs like a living thing, hungry and insistent.
“We need to move,” Enzo says, already pulling out his phone. “The fire department’s on their way, and we shouldn’t be here when they arrive.”
I nod, too exhausted to argue, too relieved to care about the logistics of explaining a burning warehouse and a man with a broken neck inside it.
All that matters is the woman still clutching my shirt with bloodstained fingers, her body trembling against mine like she might shatter into a thousand pieces if she lets go.
“Can you stand?” I ask her softly, brushing matted pink hair from her forehead.
She looks up at me, eyes reflecting the inferno behind us, and somehow finds the strength to smile. “Only if you help me.”
Chapter 43
Raven
Ihuff with annoyance after checking the clock on my phone. It’s after three in the morning and I still can’t sleep.
It’s been four days since we killed Finn—no, Salvador. No, Finn. That’s the name I knew him by. Then again, as it turned out, I didn’t know him at all.
Four days of doctors, bandages, Piper texting constantly to tell me I’ll be fine. She’s probably right, and she’s sweet for sticking by me. Hell, for killing for me. That’s something I never expected. But I don’t want to hear it.
Four days of Matteo’s watchful eye and gentle hands and me soaking it all up. He doesn’t say much, and I think I love that the most. He lets me be all while he’s right by my side.
My wrists throb beneath fresh gauze, a constant reminder thatfineis a lie we tell ourselves when the alternative is falling apart. And I am not falling apart. I am not. Gah, my thoughts are so scattered it’s no wonder I can’t sleep.
Matteo sleeps beside me. His bruised face looks so at ease when he’s like this. We’re both naked, and he has one arm thrown across my waist, possessive even in sleep.
And then I hear it.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
My heart stutters, then races. It can’t be real. It’s just my imagination. Just my brain playing tricks.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
But it doesn’t stop. The sound penetrates the darkness, echoing inside my skull like a hammer on bone. Each splash of water transports me back tothatroom. That fucking room with its concrete walls and Adam’s body and the puddle of his blood spreading across the floor.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I’m back there, handcuffed to the metal table, skin raw and bleeding.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
With Adam’s sightless eyes staring at me, the perfect hole in his forehead weeping dark blood.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
My breath comes faster. Too fast. My skin prickles with phantom cold, and sweat breaks out along my hairline. I need to make it stop. Now. Before the memories swallow me whole.
I push Matteo’s arm off me, careful not to wake him. He’s barely been sleeping since we got back, instead spending every night awake with me. But tonight I had had enough and basically demanded he at least try to sleep.
As quietly as possible, I slide from beneath the covers, my feet hitting the floor with a soft thud that sounds impossibly loud in the silence.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
