Her body–lifeless, still– hits me harder than any bullet ever could. A black rage explodes inside me, so violent, so all consuming that I don’t think. I can't think. All I know is that Craig is still breathing and she isnt, and that is fucking unaccepable. I don't hold back, I start to hit Craig in the face and body—anywhere my fists will connect. He tries to fight back and screams profanities at me, but I don’t hear them through my rage.
The first real sound I register is the crunch of his nose when my fist lands on his face. But that doesn’t deter me. I keep swinging. Again. Again. Again. I continue pounding punch after punch until I am being pulled off of a lifeless body who is mere skin and blood. I want him gone. I want every memory, every scar, every fucking moment of pain he ever put her through erased. He will never hurt her again.Never.
“He’s dead, Hunter.” Viper’s voice sounds from above as he drags me backward from Craig.
Dead?
I did that. I fucking did that and I would do it a thousand times over. But the victory is hollow because—
Blake.
Blake is still on the ground unmoving.
The moment that thought registers, I shove Viper off of me, scrambling to my feet, my breath coming too fast. I drop to my knees beside her. “Blake?”
I am met with silence. “No, no, no, you don’t get to do this to me. You don’t get to make me feel something and then abandon me when I need you the most!” I plead with her body and slam my fist down on her chest. I turn toward the rest of my crew who stand idly by, giving me space and rage boils. How can they just stand there and do nothing? Watching her die
“Someone fucking help her!” I am ready to stand and start fighting someone, anyone who will take this pain away from me.I can’t lose her. I didn’t lose her. I can’t.
I pull at my hair and squeeze my eyes shut.This can’t be it.
A sudden gasp of air is sucked in through her mouth, and her chest rises and then falls only to repeat it once more. “Blake?” I fall to my knees again beside her and shake her shoulders, desperate for more, for anything. She groans a little –-soft, weak– but alive.
I pull her into my arms and stand, carrying her into the house so that I can lay her on my bed. “It’s going to be okay, Crash. You are safe now. I got you.”
She’s here. She’s alive. And I swear to God, I will never let her slip away from me again.
She jolts in my arm and takes in a big breath before opening her eyes. As she frantically looks around the room, her eyes land on me, and she grips the front of my vest for dear life. “Shh, it’s okay. I promise.” I whisper, gently laying her on the bed.
Once she is set down, she looks around the room in a panic again. “Charlie? Where is Charlie?” she croaks.
I can tell her throat is killing her.
“Charlie is fine, Crash. She is with the other kids, still asleep. I didn’t want to wake her up yet.” Sam says from the door.
It’s the first time Ireallylook at her.
Busted lip. Swollen cheek. Bruises already darkening against her skin.
Guilt slams into me like a freight train.
I left her on the ground. I saw Craig dragging Blake away, and I didn’t stop to check if Sam was evenbreathing.I let her fight for Blake on her own while I lost my mind in my own rage.
I nod my thanks to her, the words Ishouldsay sticking to the back of my throat like razor blades.
I nod my thanks to her, and she brings me over a damp towel. “Figured you would want to wash your hands.” She points at my bloodied hands, and I grimace. I didn’t realize I was such a mess.
“Thanks,” I mutter, my voice gruff as I scrub at my hands, watching the rag turn red with the evidence of what I did. What Ihadto do.
When I glance up, Blake’s eyes are brimming with tears. Her gaze flickers to the towel, to my hands, and then she reaches out, taking my wrist in her shaking fingers. She pulls my hand to her chest, holding it there like she’s trying to anchor herself to me. “Are you okay?”she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.
I blink at her.Me?
I raise my brow. “Of course, I’m okay. We’re all worried about you right now.”
But as the words leave my mouth, the weight in my chest tightens. Because the truth is—I don’t know if Iamokay. I don’t know if I ever will be after seeing her like that. After almost losing her. After leaving Sam behind when she needed me, too.
She shakes her head. “There is no need to worry about me. I’m okay. See.” She tries to prop herself up on the back of the bed and struggles to do so.
