Ghost POV:
If this day could get any worse, she chose now to be strong enough to leave on her own. My heart aches as I continue to take down the cartel members. I haven’t been away from her since the day we escaped. I think I need her more than she needs me. Like an emotional support blanket, she is my life line. It’s been forty five minutes since we parted ways and I know for certain that until we are reunited, my painful heart will not settle. A man steps into my line of sight armed with nothing more than a large hunting knife. At least I’ll be entertained in her absence. Lunging towards him, I make quick work of disarming him andthrowing him to the ground. Driving the knife into his chest, he gargles on blood as he tries to scratch at my face. A loud boom in the distance causes not just my head to snap up, but every other man's. There is a massive whistle and screeching in the sky as my eyes look in the direction of its source. A skinny white jet suddenly flies overhead, beginning to spin out of control, before disappearing again in the distance. We watch in horror as thirty seconds later, there is a giant explosion and fire lights the sky over a mile away. My heart stops and the realization hits me. I am frozen in time as images I just witnessed come flashing back. The jet Everly was on just exploded in the woods. Without thinking, I run in its direction. Taking out anyone who gets in my way, I don’t process the battle around me. Gun fire slowly dies as footsteps behind me grow louder. I don’t turn around to acknowledge them as I continue to run in her direction. Too much time has passed when we finally make it there. Pieces of the plane are discarded everywhere. Fire dances around, creating foul smelling smoke that burns our eyes and noses. Bodies lay on the ground motionless. Some are identifiable while others are charred to a crisp. I check each one as we move further into the wreckage, looking for any sign of her. We near the largest parts of the crash just as Ryon makes a pained noise while looking down at the small corpse of a child. Lucas rests his hand on Ryon’s shoulder in an apparent gesture to comfort him. It seems to make little difference. Turning back in my direction, I keep searching until a small flicker of silver catches my eye. Ten feet from me lays a body of ash with only one recognizable object on its chest, my pendant. My legs buckle as I fall to the ground. Crawling on my hands and knees, I cradle the metal in my fingers while ignoring the burning heat beneath them. I collapse back in a convulsion of sobs. I can’t remember the last time I cried. Sometime as a child, I would assume. Though I can’t stop the tears that now stream down my face as thecrushing pain of my heart breaking within my body. I can’t think about anything other than my Little Siren. Her raven hair, mismatched eyes, and breathtaking laughter assault my mind as memories of her life flash before me. I don’t know how long I sit here but when sets of hands touch me, the sky is no longer lit by the sun. The moon paints the sky as the world lays in darkness. Her body is still in front of me when I am dragged backwards kicking and screaming. It’s not until a needle is jabbed into my neck that I feel no physical pain. My soul is shattered but my body feels light. My vision blurs in and out when finally my eyes close at their own weight. I drift between realms eventually losing consciousness.
My eyes jaunt open with panicked hands running over the cold empty mattress. This is the second day in a row that I have woken up searching for her. She is gone. She is nothing more than ash in an urn by now. Her funeral ceremony is today but I refuse to go. I don’t know how to live a life that isn’t shared by her. To exist in her presence is a miracle but now I am all out of grace. By noon, the guys flood into my room and practically force my body into a suit against my will. Eventually, I’m dragged into a posh car and driven to some remote area by a lake. When I refuse to get out, they pull out a syringe and threaten me with it until I barely carry myself to the crowd that has formed at the water's edge. When the group sees me, they nearly turn into a riot but I feel nothing. Shouting around me fades as my shirt is jerked open to show Everly’s crest around my neck. Gasps and muffled whispers take over them as the gravity of my presence is clear. I was as much hers as she was mine. They can’t touch me, not that I would stop them if they tried. I am no man. I am not worthy to wear her pendant, to lay claim, when I was too weak to stop her. I loved her too much and not enough, all at the same time.For that, she lost her life. Most of the group turns their backs as others reach out and place their hands on me in support. My gait falters as I make weak steps towards the water. It’s then that I see an urn in the hands of Everly’s father. My heart breaks all over again, if that’s even possible. She’s so close but yet so far away. Minutes later, each person takes a small amount of her ash and tosses it over the water. I am the last person to be handed the urn but I just can’t bring myself to follow their actions. To loose any piece of her is torture, no matter the symbolism. I shake my head softly and it’s soon clear that they understand my meaning. Nearly everyone’s hands find a spot on me as they offer me their condolences. The broken man before them is the only thing left of her. I hold her love, her heart, and her soul within me. Slowly, the numbers dwindle until it’s just me and the guys standing there.
“Come on man. It’s time to go home.” One of them says next to me.
“The only home I have ever known is nothing but dust at the bottom of this shitty piece of marble.” I yell while turning to them and holding out the urn. They step back and nod. After a while, they start walking towards the car and soon I follow their path. Climbing into the Mercedes, we drive back to the house. I feel absolutely nothing and everything all at once. Her being gone is not something that I have come to terms with yet and I am not sure I ever will.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Depressingly Gritty
Ghost POV:
The sweet solace in life before Everly Violet Beretta is something I’ll never know again. If I had known that was the last time we would speak, touch, or kiss I would have made it last a little longer. I would have said everything I have ever thought. I would have held her tighter. I would have kissed her deeper. That's the problem with death, you never know when your ticket is going to be pulled. You never know when it’ll be the last time you see someone. The cruelest part of death is not that they are never coming back. It’s all the regrets you have after they are gone. All the times you wish things had happened differently. You might have apologized in a meaningless argument. You might have told them you loved them sooner. You might have changed your ways to show them how much they meant to you. All of that seems so regrettable after they are gone. Trivial is complaining about their quirks. Trivial is getting frustrated with them. Trivial is not loving them better.
If I could get five more minutes with her, I wouldn’t do something like have sex or kiss her. I wouldn’t even tell her I loved her. I would show her the top of Mount Everest at night. I would sit with her on the oxygen-depleted peak so she would know just how easily she takes my breath away. How the cold makes you feel painfully alive, the way her love forces its way into my bones. The height that feels limitless, like my soul’s reach for her. I would especially show her the sky on a cloudless night. I would tell her to look at the stars. I would tell her about the scale of the Milky Way and the endless universes. She would leave this world knowing she is cosmic. That she is every Sun, every moon, and all the stars in the universe. Saying I love you would never be a tangible way to say what she means to me, because there are no words to describe the gravity that is Everly Violet Beretta.
That is why I find myself lying weightless in a bed we shared just four short days ago. The emptiness within the sheets is not far off from the absence in my chest. She stole my heart the first time I saw her and took it with her the moment she died. It’s rightfully hers to keep, nonetheless. As if there was ink etched in every cell, it was hers to possess in every measure of time. Past, present, and future; for all of eternity. I fall asleep every night hoping I won't wake up in the morning. Praying I’ll be reunited with my little siren. To chase her on open water, like I did in her club. To hold her helpless against my knife, like I have on not enough occasions. To be enchanted by her song, like I am by her melodic laugh. At this moment, the only weight I can bear is that of her black stone urn within my arms.
It’s not enough and it never will be. In a desperate attempt to feel her essence, my trembling fingers find the seam of the lid. It takes more force than my exhausted muscles are used to while prying it open. Setting it aside, I look within the dark holeof the afterlife to find creased plastic. It’s thick and smooth. I collect the contents in my callused hand and remove them. I study the ashes, as if I’ll find her somewhere buried beneath them. Opening the bag, I hesitantly run my fingers through the gritty, sand like, substance. For a singular moment, my heart rate falters as I succumb to the gut wrenching reality of loss. Her lingering cremated bone and flesh falls between my digits like that of sand in an hourglass. Reminding me of the fleeting time left for every being that walks this plane. It brings to mention my continued dire need for her. I can still feel her all around me. She still lives on in the unwashed sheets, the newly painted walls, the fibers of the carpet, the loyal canines that lay near my feet, and the air I consume involuntarily.
The door swings open, colliding with the wall next to it. The three men who loved her like family, walk into the room but halt when they see my current actions.
“Oh fuck, man. That's just depressing. Listen, our world is shattered too but she wouldn’t want you to live like this. You have barely moved a muscle since that day. You need to pull yourself out of this.” James speaks with a tone of disappointment. I couldn't care less what his opinion of me is.
“I don’t know how. I can’t think about anything other than her being gone. Even breathing is painful.” My voice cracks as I still refuse to remove my hand from the urn. I don’t look at them when I speak.
“We know the feeling, but we can’t get revenge without you.” My head whips up at Lucas’s voice. The word “revenge” peaks my interest.
I have considered it of course. The issue is not knowing where to look. We still have no idea who caused the crash.What we do know is that the jet’s engine was tampered with. We know that the pilot was a hitman for hire that was on a suicide mission. We know it was premeditated and carefully planned. We know that there were survivors based on the number of victims. None were present when we got there. For all we know, whoever did this may have been waiting nearby and grabbed them or they took off on their own and found safety somewhere. There are just too many variables to come up with a concise plan. Looking at their faces, each carries the same determined but concerned expression. I don’t need their concern, I need their will to live in her absence and spirit to stay motivated. They must sense my fleeting desire to find justice because Ryon sits at the edge of the bed, invading my space.
“We have a badass plan, we know where they are, all we need is our wild card.” I stare at him in confusion. His short blonde hair is unruly like he has showered the same amount of times I have since she left. His blue eyes cast their same playful way as always. How this man can even stay positive in the wake of her death is something I will likely never understand. He is free of care and stress always.
“Your psycho ass is our wild card. Burn them like they burned you.” His words strike a cord in my heart and a memory in my brain. I once told Everly that I would burn the world to ash if she asked me to. So that’s exactly what I plan to do. I have nothing to lose as I have already lost everything. A wicked smile covers my lips as a new found power leeches its way into my veins. God help anyone who stands in my way. They will pray to the devil himself for peace when they meet the monster they have created.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Nothing's Fair In Love and War, Except Him
The sky is lit up in a blinding orange as it rains embers igniting everything in its wake. Screams bounce from any solid walls still left standing. The streets are covered in rubble, dead bodies, and fire. Ash blankets the world like fresh snowfall. The air is sharp with a smoky haze. I smile looking around at the destruction of the scene surrounding me. Rome has fallen, or rather Spain has fallen that is. The sight is a mirror of the war raging within my broken existence. This all started so simply. We arrived and the guys gave me some pathetic plan of attack. Little did they know that the moment my feet touched the ground, a force more powerful than myself took hold. They cannot contain the evil that is me. All consuming rage controls my every movement. From breathing to outright murder, I am just a vessel of chaos and violence.
My first action was planting explosives under every major building in Spain that has a connection to the cartel. Each fell with an unmeasurable blast leaving hundreds of fatalities. It’s still not enough. That's how I have found myself walking the streets, armed with an automatic assault weapon finishing off anyone who tries to stop me. The police gave up yesterday, scurrying off to some vapid hideout convinced of its safety. What they do not understand is that there is not a corner of the earth they could run to that I would not destroy in the motive of vengeance. My name will echo around the world. I will be the monster that brings them to their knees.
A hand on my shoulder pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. Turning my gun to the person, Lucas’s chest makes contact with the barrel. He hardly reacts to it as his hand fists the metal and guides it away from him. His strawberry locks sway gently in the breeze as blue eyes hover over me. He eyes me suspiciously like I am a rabid dog that is cornered, one that could attack at any moment. Even he knows that I’m not in my right mind.
“If you’re done exterminating an entire country, we found their hideout.” Finally, the green light I have been seeking since we got here. Everything up to this moment, has been child’s play. Now the real fun begins.
Two hours later I find myself planted in front of a Spanish Colonial style estate. I swivel on my heel, turning to the group standing behind me with haunted expressions painted across each of their faces. The home holds entrance to the entirety of the cartel’s forces. Based on the blue prints it hides an elaborate tunnel system that contains a large warehouse, arsenals, a training facility and more. They continue on stretching out city wide for access miles away. Some of our men have armed each of those entrances with motion activated bombs. Theystand by to dispose of anyone who manages to make it through after the detonations . The rest are with us, surrounding the sand stone home like a wall of murder, hungry for blood.
“This is crazy.” Ryon nervously chuckles, rubbing his arm in comfort.
“This is the job. The worst thing we could face today is death. We knew from the moment we could talk that every mission holds the possibility of death.” James states plainly.
“Some of us know that fact all too well.” I say in a monotone voice barely above a whisper.
“If I die today, so be it. If that means I took out some of the pieces of shit that had a hand in Everly’s death, even better.” Lucas and I nod in agreement. Death would be a welcomed experience in comparison to the present painful existence I am forced to sit in.
