“That was the first time I realized how much you loved her,” she says softly as I direct her to turn with my free hand. For some reason, I don’t focus on what she’s saying as the blinker clicks like a metronome. “She was so happy when you said she’s good at driving.”
“I’m sorry, Scar. I’m really sorry.”
“I know. I know you are, and I am too. I’m sorry you had to find out everything the way you did, that you’ve been ripped apart so many times in your short lives. I’m sorry you were born into a family who could never appreciate you.”
“You know I’m sorry? You know I have no other choice, right?” I beg. “That I have to do this? Please don’t hate me.”
“Kane, I know you. I knew you when you were six, laughing at Dilly’s shit jokes like they were delivered by the world’s best comedian, when you would sit next her while she watched your awful movies but you’d be watching her, and when you were released from prison. You were so different then. I wish I asked you about it instead of waiting for you.”
“Nothing happened,” I repeat out of habit. “I’m sorry.”
“Okay, nothing happened,” she agrees as we get closer to the church. “That nothing wasn’t your fault, Kane. It was never your fault.”
“Scar…” I try to get Asher to quiet as he urges me to pull the trigger while she’s driving slow enough for me to safely get out. “Scar, I-I lied. Delilah doesn’t hate you. She was just angry in the moment. I—” My tears soak into the collar of my t-shirt. “I lied to you because I needed you away from her. She misses you. I swear she loves you so much.”
I watch the electronic dash increase, skipping numbers as she puts her foot down.
“Slow the fuck down,” I grit.
“Shoot her now.”
“Tell me where she is and I will,” she fires back, staring at me through the rearview mirror without any trace of the previous care she held. “Don’t fuck with me or try to act like you’re going to kill me. The safety is still on; you have tears in your eyes. You don’t want to do this, so I’m making the choice for you.”
Is she going to kill us both, so I don’t have to?
The engine roars over the low music as she reaches 105 miles per hour.
“Kane! Fucking tell me!”
I scream back, “I don’t fucking kn?—”
My entire body is flung forward as the brakes creak. Glass shatters from the impact of me hitting the windshield, the shards scraping my arms and back as I sail through the air, landing on the concrete with a thud echoing around my skull. My vision doubles as I roll across the tarmac, grating my skin. I’m still moving when squealing and burnt rubber taint the air but I crawl onto my knees, unable to fucking breathe.
The cool night air on the road rash burns but so do my insides as I watch the taillights get further and further away.
Asher is unharmed as he stands in front of me, taunting,“You had to talk to her.”
“Fuck. Off,” I wheeze.
I cough through the searing pain in my ribs as I try to stand, chips of Scarlet’s windshield embedding themselves into my palms as I drag myself up. The empty street full of condemned buildings don’t offer any help, just the fucking church where one of the Wards will be waiting for me.
My leg is fucked, barely able to accept my weight as I take one step only to instantly fucking crumble. My pained scream is trapped as I grit my teeth and pull myself up again. Ten feet, that’s all I have to walk. I’ll get on my knees and fucking beg for the information about where they’re keeping Delilah.
Ten feet. I can do it. I can crawl over broken fucking glass for her. Then we’ll be together. I’ll make another deal with the motherfuckers to get Helene’s location, kill the cunt, then we’ll be safe. Just. Ten. Fucking. Feet.
68
KANE
Imanage to crawl into the church, leaving blood smeared on the thick wooden doors and a trail of red from my punctured leg. But I don’t pull the shard of glass free as I hold the cobweb-covered walls to stop myself from falling. Soft orange lights flicker from the lit candles resting on the ornate stone sconces, casting the center of the empty large hall in shadows.
“Where the fuck are you?” I scream into the fucking void, begging for it to shout back.
The only thing greeting my ears is my own voice echoing off the high ceiling. Sweat coats my back, sticking my t-shirt to me as the hot pain of the smallest amount of weight being on my leg nearly folds me in half. I keep staring, searching for any sign of life. The large, stained-glass windows don’t offer anything other than mockery. Neither does the pulpit, or the empty pews, or the crucifixes adorning the walls with thick layers of dust clinging to them.
“Pray,”Asher offers.“Although, God might not listen to you since you committed the first sin.”
“Fuck. Off.”
