“Go ahead,” he says, as I stare at him in shock. “Take care of him, okay? The rest of us will follow by car.”
I nod wordlessly, hoping he can tell how grateful I am that he’s letting me be the one to stay with Damien. Then I’m pulled up into the air. My usual fear of heights is the furthest thing from my mind. I would gladly be swinging thousands of feet in the air, or lost under dozens of feet in the dirt, if it meant saving Damien.
I’m pulled into the helicopter by four arms, then guided into the little cabin. A new jolt of pain travels through me when I see him still unconscious, his skin glistening with sweat. I allow myself to be fastened to a seat, and then I wait numbly until we arrive at the hospital.
At once a team of nurses and doctors crowd around. They lift Damien up then set him down on a trolley. A minute later, he’s out of view, engulfed in the doors of one of the operating rooms.
I look around at the waiting room that I’m clearly expected to stay in. There are rows of plastic chairs and the fluorescent light above makes me feel oddly lonely. I sit down at the edge of a seat, clasping my hands together, staring at the wall.
A half hour later, the others—Logan, Everest, Vincent and Igor—walk in. Logan heads straight toward me. It’s strange how I once loathed him. Now, with Damien unconscious, he’s the one I turn to for comfort. And though he acts strong, I can tell he’s coming to me for the same reason. We’re united by our love for Damien.
He sits down beside me, and his arm goes around me, squeezing my shoulders.
“I couldn’t take care of him,” I whispered. “There were nurses around him. I barely saw him before they wheeled him off to surgery.”
“He’s in good hands,” says Logan in a warm, reassuring tone.
Then he stares off in the distance, lost in thought.
The clock ticks on and we all wait, as though suspended in time. My numbness gives way to waves of intense emotion. I struggle in the grasp of fear, loss, guilt. Anger. That last emotion is the one I cling to.
Anger. So much anger. But I can’t let them see. Not now. Not when they’re suffering too. Though not nearly as much as me.
I steel my voice, trying to keep the anger buried beneath. Trying not to make my question sound like an accusation.
“Why did he come for me alone?”
Logan’s face sets in a grim expression. “He’s a stubborn idiot. Wanted to save you on his own. By the time the rest of us got news of what was happening, he was already gone. Didn’t want to lose any time. And wanted to be the only one responsible for you.” He shrugs. “He’s always underestimated Gabriel. First leaving him alive like that, assuming he’d die… and then, facing him alone.”
I stare at the carpet, noticing for the first time that the murky green and red pattern make it look a bit like vomit.
“He underestimated you too,” he adds after a beat. “We all did. You killed Gabriel, didn’t you?”
I shudder, but he chuckles, allowing a touch of humor in his voice for the first time. “The head of the biggest criminal organization in South America, and he met his match at the hands of Damien’s little pet. Priceless.”
My trembling hands clench into fists. “Don’t call me that. My name is Seraphina.”
He sobers up, all trace of humor gone. “Yes, it is.”
I turn away, half comforted by his words, but anger stillseethes at the pit of my stomach. Anger that’s focused now on Damien.
He can’t die. He can’t fucking die. He’s not allowed to. He promised me he’d take care of me forever. He said so. But he always says things, and none of it is ever true. I should have known this was a lie too.
Damien the liar. Damien the fucking liar.
It makes me see red. I try to take steadying breaths, try to keep this new, nearly overwhelming emotion on lock. Logan glances at me, and I see I haven’t fully succeeded, because he at once whips his head away, looking more than a little unsettled.
Good. Calling me a little pet. How fucking dare he?
How fucking dare all of them? Don’t they realize how much I need him? Don’t they realize I ache for him with every particle of my body? How can they sit there passively, stupidly, as their leader dies in the room next door? Aren’t they supposed to be the most powerful company in the state? Where the fuck is their power now?
They couldn’t even hold on to me. Their stupid, helpless, weak little captive.
Stupid, helpless, weak Seraphina.
It’s all because of me. Because of the curse I was born with. It’s not my lot in life to be happy. Anything good around me must die.
I don’t believe in Heaven, but I do believe in Hell. Because I was born in it. I belong to it.
