My vision blurs again, everything twisting around me, but I focus, forcing my gaze up at my hands, the nails embedded deep into my skin. They’re holding me in place, keeping me tethered to the wall, but I know I can’t stay here forever.
I need to get out of here. This is my chance.
I concentrate, turning my thoughts to the pain I’ve endured before, the way I survived with Wrath, the way I lived through everything that should’ve killed me.
I push those memories into the forefront of my mind, a trace of resolve in the madness. I pull against the nails with everything I’ve got, teeth grinding together as I fight the urge to scream.
My hands tremble with the effort, but I don’t make a sound. I’m careful and slow as I tear through my flesh, the sharp pain coursing through me with every inch. It feels like my very bones are being shredded, but I don’t stop. Not until one hand is free, the nails pulling out of my skin with a sickening pop.
Then I yank the other, my body jerking as it comes loose with a tear, my blood spilling across the floor. I stumble forward, my movements shaky. I force my head to stay low, my bloodied mouth pressed against the back of my hand, wiping the remnants of my agony off my skin.
Zye is still standing by the fireplace, too fucking comfortable. He doesn’t hear me. Doesn’t see me moving, each step like a fucking killer closing in on its victim. I move on my tiptoes like a ballerina, silent, swift, every movement controlled, filled with quiet rage.
When I get close, I use all my strength and shove him forward, using my entire body weight to slam him into the fireplace. He goes down hard, his head hitting the edge with a sickening crack before he tumbles in. The heat from the fire licks at my skin as I stand there, panting, watching him.
His screams ricochet off the walls, filling the room with a guttural, agonizing sound, but he manages to pull himself out of the flames, stumbling on shaky legs, his face already starting to melt, the skin curling and bubbling.
His hand is scorched, but I don’t give him a second to recover. I push past the searing pain, every movement laced with desperation, fury. I ram my shoulder into him again, harder this time, the force of my hit knocking him off balance.
He grabs the edge of the fireplace to steady himself, but the damage is done. I step back, watching as his shirt catches fire, the flames licking up his body. He reaches back, clawing at the burning fabric, his movements erratic, panicked, as the fire spreads faster, consuming him like an inferno.
His screams are everything I’ve wanted to hear. Every ounce of pain he’s feeling is just... He fucking deserves this, all of it.
But Zye’s never going down without a fight. His clothes are already in flames, his skin melting off him in grotesque chunks, but he still charges toward me, burning alive, his eyes wild with anger.
I don’t flinch as he lunges, ready to crush me beneath him, ready to drag me down into the flames with him.
I stumble back, my legs failing me, and I hit the wall with a sickening thud. My hands fly to my face, the pain of my wounds crashing down as I brace for whatever’s coming next, but then, suddenly, there’s a deafening bang.
A crash, followed by the sharp crack of a gunshot.
Bang!
I blink through the haze, confusion clouding my senses, and as the sound fades, I lower my trembling hands, my breath catching as I watch Zye’s body crumple to the floor, lifeless, his screams silenced.
I can barely keep myself upright, the world spinning, my thoughts fragmented, when suddenly, Wrath is there, his hands gentle yet firm as they find my face.
His voice is a muffled blur, the words lost in the chaos around me. All I can feel are the tears streaming down my cheeks, hot and frantic.
Time slows, everything distorting around us, until his leather jacket is wrapped around my shoulders, cocooning me in warmth.
My body buckles, the raw emotion ripping through me, and I fall against him with a shuddering sob. Wrath pulls me into his chest, his arms cradling me, holding me together as he presses a kiss to the top of my head.
“I’m here, my little corpse. I’m here.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Aurelia
When I get back to Oddity, I gently slide off Wrath’s bike with a sharp hiss before he can even help me. My eyes lift to what’s left of the place—now just a smouldering pile of ash, smoke curling into the sunrise sky like old ghosts finally leaving.
I hear him dismount behind me and side-eye him, then quickly turn away, walking toward my trailer with my bloody, ruined hands stretched out in front of me, fingers stiff, skin screaming.
He offered to take me to the hospital, no insisted, but I shut that down. I don’t need sterile lights and fucking strangers. I just want to crawl into my shelter and disappear. The wounds will heal. It’s my soul that needs the fucking work.
As I near the trailer, I glance over my shoulder and, of course, he’s still following.
Fuck’s sake.
