“Who did this? Who was with Maria?” I ask, and my voice isn’t even mine anymore. It’s something older. Somethingdarker. Something that belongs to a man who has dragged bodies out of rivers and slept like a baby afterward.
Lev swallows, his throat bobbing painfully.
“Maria,” he whispers.
“She… is…” His voice breaks. “Preacher.”
My vision tunnels. All sound dulls. All I can hear is my own pulse and the echo of Lily’s breathing in my head like a memory I’m about to lose.
“Fuck.” Finn seethes, his grey eyes meeting mine.
Lily’s mom is the Preacher. A woman so evil is the mother of a woman so full of light.
My stomach drops. The Preacher has my girl.
“Please,” he rasps—and that word coming from him is the most devastating thing I’ve ever heard.
Lev doesn’t beg. Lev doesn’t plead. But he’s pleading now. Not for himself. For her. “Save my baby,” he whispers.
My throat tightens so hard I can’t breathe for a second. Because Lily is his baby, but she’s carrying mine, too.
And I feel every bit of his pain; the thought of someone taking them both from me is enough to make me want to throw up.
“I will,” I promise immediately. No hesitation. “I swear to you. If it’s the last thing I ever do.”
Lev shakes his head faintly as if the movement costs him everything. “No,” he whispers. “Not… like that.”
I lean closer, my eyes burning. “What do you mean?” I snap. “Lev, tell me?—”
His grip finds more strength for one final second. He drags my sleeve down, forcing my attention. Forcing me to listen.
“Not like a bodyguard,” he breathes, voice ragged. “Like she’s your soul.” A cough. “Love her.”
It cracks something in my chest. The smallest fracture. The kind that spreads.
“She is my soul,” I say, the words rough and guttural. “I promise you.”
Lev exhales weakly. A ghost of something crosses his face. Approval maybe. Relief. The faintest hint of gratitude. Then his gaze sharpens suddenly, panic flashing behind his eyes.
“I’m proud of you,” he chokes out, blood bubbling again. “Boy.”
I stare at him. And my mouth twitches in something that isn’t a smile. But I can see it in Finn’s eyes instantly as I glance at him. The truth. The reality. The chances of him surviving this are low.
“You’re not leaving me,” I say, voice like stone. “Not like this.”
Lev’s eyes soften. “Don’t let my death mean nothing,” he whispers.
His hand slips from my sleeve, his fingers go slack, and my stomach drops hard.
I press my fingers to his neck again. That weak pulse is still there. Barely. But it’s there.
He’s not dead.
I drag in a breath and force my brain back into operation.
Lev needs pressure. Time. Blood. Help.
But Lily?—
