We should have kept moving. Should have stayed on the run. But I got complacent and comfortable. Worse, I believed for a moment that I could have had heaven with her. That I deserved it.
I don't. I never did.
I'm a demon who deserves eternal damnation, and I dragged an angel down with me. But I guess my punishment isn't death. It's living with the knowledge that Naomi is in Logan's hands because of me.
I hear a faint sound outside the bungalow. I whirl around and raise my weapon before my brain has even processed the situation. Pain screams through my injured arm, but sudden adrenaline holds it at bay. My vision’s hazy, but my aim doesn't waver. The process is automatic, like breathing. Acquiring the target. Finger hovering near the trigger.
A tall figure appears in the doorway, his own weapon drawn. But he immediately raises his hands, gun pointed skyward.
"Whoa—"
I take my finger off the trigger and squint. Through the blood loss and possible concussion, I can't be sure if what I'm seeing is real. "Static?"
He nods, and there's no mistaking him now. Static hasn't aged a day since I last saw him. He's nearly as tall as me but not as thick. All wiry muscle. His hair is still nearly shaven, and he still wears those same thick black glasses, arms covered in tattoo sleeves.
"What are you doing here?" My voice sounds like gravel being crushed.
"I came to help." Static scans the room, his eyes cataloging the carnage. Cold, like a computer. "Couldn't figure out how to get the two of you across the border with all the heightened activity. I thought I could get the evidence where it needed to go."
I look down at my blood-soaked clothes, the reality of my failure washing over me again. "It doesn't matter now."
Static steps carefully around the bodies. "They took her?"
I nod, not even looking at him. "Logan."
Static’s face is still a mask. No trace of his usual sarcastic humor.
"Come on, let's get you patched up." Static moves toward me, holstering his weapon and sliding his shoulder under my good arm.
I try to push him away. "I need you to find Naomi. I need to?—"
"You're no good to her dead, Walker."
I don’t respond, but I do let him support me as I hobble over to the bed. I drop down on it with a grunt. Static cuts away my blood-soaked shirt. My body is already repairing itself, but it’s still necessary to dress these wounds.
"I should have had the guts to kill him. Not just leave him in Barakesh," I mutter.
Static doesn't look up from his work. "That’s not you.”
My look at him is sharp. “Ain’t it? Killing is what we do.”
Static doesn’t say anything as he bandages my arm and moves to my leg. What can he say? His hands might not have quite as much blood on them as mine do, but it’s enough.
"I thought I could run. Thought I could sequester myself away, and I wouldn't harm anyone or poison the world. But then she came into my life..."
I trail off, remembering the first moment I saw her in thewoods, terrified but determined. How her courage had never wavered through everything we faced together.
"I could tell something was going on between you two, even through all the tech and distance.” Static watches me quietly, his fingers methodically repacking his medical kit. “But I'm guessing I don't know the half of it."
"I love her, Wes." The words are still strange on my tongue. Not because I don’t mean them, but because I don’t deserve to say them.
"Well, it must be serious if you're using my government name." Static's lips quirk upward, but his eyes and tone remain serious.
"I didn't think I could anymore. But I do." I push myself up straighter, ignoring the fresh wave of pain. The enhanced healing is already working, but it'll take some time before I'm anything close to operational.
Static sits back and sighs when he's done. "What are you going to do?"
The image of Logan's face flashes before me. That sick smile as he dragged Naomi away. He thinks he's won, that he's finally found my weakness. He's right, but he underestimates what that means.
