He’s quiet for a moment, and I close my eyes, letting my head fall back—the secret to managing dizziness is staying still. But then Dhimitër inhales sharply. “She’s alive, but it’s bad. She got Kayla out and took a bullet to the side while shielding her.”
My eyes flutter open, my heart pounding in my throat, wrestling the pain in my side for dominance. Because I know who he’s talking to.
Roan.
Will he even care that I’ve been hurt?
“On the road. Heading south. We’re going home.”
As much as I’m interested in Dhimitër’s conversation, it’s becoming an impossible struggle to keep my head upright and my body from slumping. My head lolls heavily against the seat, and when I finally look down, my heart jackknives. Crimson is soaking through the side of my nun’s habit, spreading rapidly. I press a shaking hand to it and it comes away slick with blood.Fuck.
Dhimitër stiffens, glancing back at me, but I don’t have the strength to ask him what’s happening.
“No, that’s too risky. I’ll be asked questions I can’t answer, and the cops will probably be called and?—”
His voice dissolves into a dull buzz as I force myself to check on my sister. Please don’t let her be hurt.
Strange that I can’t feel any pain now, just a spreading cold numbness. Somewhere in my foggy mind, I know that’s not a good sign, but I quickly assess Kayla. If I got hit, she might have been too. My gaze homes in on the red spot at the sleeve of her right arm.
“Let me see your arm,” I say, voice slurring no matter how hard I fight it.
“It’s just a graze. I’m fine.” She rips off her veil, tears slipping down her face as she presses it against my side. She’s crying—for me.
I reach out to touch her shoulder, intending to check her wound anyway, but my vision swims for a scary moment and my body sways, slumping heavily against the car door. “Kayla?—”
“Don’t fuss,” she says through her tears. “You’re hurt way worse than I am. And if I die...” She swallows, throat working. “If I die, at least they can’t use me to hurt you anymore.”
“Don’t t–talk like that,” I murmur, fighting with everything I have to keep my impossibly heavy lids open. Why do my limbs feel like lead? And when did it get so cold? My teeth start chattering uncontrollably, and somewhere beside me, Kayla gasps.
“How badly is she hurt?” Dhimitër groans from the driver’s seat, and as I try to shift my gaze to him, all the lights—inside the car, outside on the road—smear and blur, then dim at the edges.
“Badly,” my sister replies. “She’s losing a lot of blood.”
“I’m—”I’m fine. The lie won’t come out. Breathing hurts now. Inhaling and exhaling feels like dragging air through broken glass. My tongue is too heavy to move.
Fuck, is this how I die?
I try to blink my eyes open, to reassure them—Kayla sobbing beside me, Dhimitër swearing viciously from the driver’s seat—but my eyelids refuse, and after a few seconds of struggle, I give up.
Roan’s face flashes through my rapidly fading consciousness, and I wish—God, I wish I had told that fucker I loved him before we left. I shouldn’t have let my stupid pride get in the way. Shouldn’t have wasted what might have been our last conversation being cold to him.
I love you, you infuriating bastard…
The last thing I hear is Dhimitër’s muttered curse and Kayla’s frantic, “Hurry!”
Then everything goes black.
34
ROAN
I called Gjon last night to inform him of my plans, and he agreed to meet me at Fabian’s mansion, bringing men who, though once loyal to Fabian, have grown tired of his recklessness with their lives and his ever-growing greed.
Even so, the weight of what’s coming presses heavily on my chest as my convoy glides through the winding roads in silence. Each turn brings us closer to Fabian's fortress—a place where Elira and I once played as children, where our mother’s laughter used to ring through the gardens as she called us in for dinner.
Back when everything was simple. Before betrayal. Before death…
My hands clench into tight fists at the thought that my mother’s death could have been avoided if not for Fabian’s greed and irrational hatred forAtë. Now I finally understand why he’s spent years blamingAtëfor what happened. He didn't want to face the role he played in his own sister’s murder.
