"Stop!"I try to get up, but my body betrays me.
That's when Monty goes for the knife.
His hand moves to his back pocket in one fluid motion, pulling the blade free as Nate lunges forward.The metal catches the dim light, and I see Nate's eyes widen as he realizes what's happening.
He tries to grab Monty's wrist, both hands wrapping around the bigger man's forearm, but Monty's got leverage and fifty pounds on him.They struggle, the knife wavering between them, both men pouring everything they have into controlling that blade.
Monty's free hand shoots up, massive fingers wrapping around Nate's throat.Nate’s grip on the knife arm falters as oxygen becomes a luxury he can't afford.
"Your brother's about to experience the greatest high and nightmare at once," Monty says, his voice conversational despite the exertion, like he's discussing the weather instead of murder.
Nate's face is turning red, then purple and I can see him weakening, his hold on Monty's knife hand slipping.
The blade inches closer to his chest.
Nate makes one last desperate play—he stops fighting the knife and instead drives his knee up between Monty's legs, hard.Monty's grip on his throat loosens for just a second, but it's enough.
Nate breaks free, stumbling backward, gasping for air.
But he's too slow.
The knife slides between his ribs with a sound I'll carry with me into whatever comes after this life.
A wet, tearing sound that echoes in my bones and rewrites something fundamental in my DNA.
"Nate!"
The scream that tears from my throat doesn't sound human.
Nate crumples to the floor, one hand pressed against the wound, blood seeping between his fingers like he's trying to hold himself together by force of will alone.
But his eyes—his eyes find mine, and they're still aware, still fighting.Still trying to protect me even as he's dying, even as the light starts to fade.
There's something in his expression that breaks me completely.
Not fear, not pain, but concern.
He's worried about me.
Even now, even like this, bleeding out on the floor, he's worried about me.
Monty pulls out the syringe, that needle full of liquid death, and kneels beside Nate.
"No."I try to crawl toward them, but the world keeps tilting sideways.
Blood from the gash on my head drips steadily, pooling beneath me, and my vision fades to black for a moment before snapping back.
The room spins like a carnival ride.
"No, please..."
My words slur together as consciousness threatens to slip away again.I blink hard, forcing myself to focus, but everything feels distant.
Blood trails behind me as I drag myself forward another inch, my head wound bleeding freely.
The needle goes into Nate's arm with surgical precision.
It takes only seconds until his body convulses immediately, seizes like he's being electrocuted from the inside out.His back arches off the floor not long after that and his eyes roll back until only the whites show, but somehow—somehow—they find me one last time.
