“We have no way of knowing, but your blood is his only chance. It’s the final stage. You know this.”
My stomach plummets. For a long moment, all I hear is the beeping of a machine.
“Would he even want it?” Jericho asks.
“He doesn’t have a choice,” Red says, his tone impatient.
“Bullshit!” Jericho growls. “Every vampire should have a choice.”
Oh, baby.
I turn the corner, my eyes latching onto Jericho as if he’s the only thing in the room. He looks like a man conflicted if ever I saw one, and for good reason. They’re asking him to do the impossible: aid a newborn vampire through the transition when he doesn’t have a choice in it.
Doesn’t Red remember what Jericho has been through? If he did, he’d never ask this of Jericho. Part of the reason Jericho hates what he is, is because he was forced into it. He’ll never do it to someone else.
Including me.
Like a magnet Jericho turns to me, his jaw ticking. I expect him to kick me out, but he doesn’t. He watches me with eyes the color of the dark forest, unblinking. His fangs are longer than I’ve ever seen them, from thirst or anger, I can’t be sure.
My heart breaks for him.
Walking around the table, I lean over Justice to get a better view. God, he’s young. Sixteen, at most. His cheeks still have a baby roundness to them, yet he lay almost unmoving on the small metal table. Two wires are attached to his arm, another to his chest, and dozens of bite marks cover his body, from his neck to his legs. Six of them are inflamed, black webs trailing out from oozing sores. Venom.
It makes me want to throw up.Is this what Jericho went through when Foxx turned him?
Justice is still breathing. He’s still alive. Which means there’s a chance he might make it.
“Justice, look at me,” I say as calmly but as firmly as I can.
He doesn’t move.
I step in beside Jericho, shuddering at the heat coming from his skin. He’s still burning up.
Gently, I shake Justice’s shoulder. “Justice.”
It takes several tries, but eventually, the teen cracks his eyes. What I see knocks the air right out from my lungs. His pupils are already hard as stone, dark as mahogany and full of hunger.
“It’s Evan. Do you remember me? This is Jericho. He helped you escape. Do you remember that? Just a few minutes ago.”
Justice doesn’t reply.
“Do you understand what’s happening to you?”
His eyelids slide closed.
“Justice, please,” I try again. “I need you to respond.”
Taking his hand, I squeeze hard. “Squeeze my hand if you understand. Do you know what is happening to you?”
He squeezes.
“Good. That’s good. Your wounds are fatal. You’ll die unless we help you. But to do that, Jericho needs to feed you his blood. Do you understand what I’m saying? If he does that, you won’t be a shifter anymore. Do you want that?”
Justice’s lip trembles.
Red slams a fist on the table. “We don’t have time for this,” he seethes.
“Shut up and let me try!” I snap. “He might not want this!”This might be all we can do.
