Poor Tiger.
Fuck, I need to get to her tonight.
I finish cleaning the stick and hop into the shower to wash the blood off my hands, my arms, the back of my neck where it splattered. My car seats need a good scrubbing too.
When I get out, I get dressed and gather supplies to clean the car. I grab my phone to put on some music.
That’s when I notice the missed calls.
A bunch of them. All from Zephyr.
Fuck. The calls weren’t going through while I was in the shower.
I call him back immediately.
“What’s going on?”
I hear yelling in the background.
“Zeff?”
“Get over here.”
“Where?”
“Tiger’s.”
My stomach drops. “On my way.”
I race to her house like a maniac, blow through a stop sign, nearly clip a parked car.
Then I cut the corner on her street and see an ambulance blocking the road.
There’s an idiot parked in the middle of the street. I swerve to the side to get a better look.
Zephyr runs out of the driver’s side. Jax’s car.
I throw mine in park and step out.
“Zeff!” I call.
Then I see Tiger.
Limp in his arms.
She isn’t moving.
Her black hair falls over his arm. Her mouth is open. Her eyelids aren’t completely closed.
What the fuck.
Is she dead?
Is Tiger dead in Zephyr’s arms?
I run toward the back of the ambulance. My legs feel like lead. My chest is tight.
I can’t fathom a reality where Tigerlily dies.
