I might be feeling the effects of the nerve agent already, or it could be psychosomatic. But I want my last vision as I leave consciousness to be of her.
Impatience gathers Blakely’s hands into fists as she makes for the vials, coming to the same deduction as me.
The antidote to the XV nerve agent is a combination of Atropine and pralidoxime chloride administered in a very specific dosage, delivered at specific intervals until the effects have subsided.
And it’s possibly residing in those glass bottles.
“You can choose only one to save,” Grayson says, halting Blakely’s steps. “There’s not enough antidote for two. But seriously, killing them both would save you a lot of trouble.”
“I’m not killing anyone. You are,” she retorts.
“You made a choice to kill this girl—” he motions to Addisyn “—the moment you used her for your selfish endeavor. Remember, honesty is your only course here.”
Blakely nails Grayson with a deadly glare. “How. Fucking. Long?”
Grayson leisurely heads toward the double doors. “Ten minutes,” he finally answers. “Maybe fifteen, before the symptoms present. And they are gruesome. But by then, it will be too late.”
“You’re a savage,” Blakely says to him, her voice laced with venom.
He grabs a strip of bandage. “I can cover their eyes with this—” he looks at the neon strip that reads: Give me treats—“doggy bandage. It is easier when you don’t have to look your victims in the eyes.”
Ignoring his chiding remark, Blakely proceeds to grab the vials. As she turns around to look for Grayson, he’s already gone.
“Fuck,” she hisses. “What is the dosage?” Her gaze wanders to me, and yes, I know the proper dosage.
But that’s not what she really wants to know.
I wish this was my choice to make—it’s an easy one for me.
I’d choose her. I will always choose her.
But that’s precisely why this isn’t my choice to make.
The activity of the city hums outside these walls. The flurry of life, the night an orchestra, the world minding its own business, as we’re trapped in a pit with our darkest thoughts.
The ticking of my pocket watch grows louder as I remain racked and suspended.
Blakely stands center of the room, hands clutched to the vials and syringe, her despondent gaze locked on me.
“Think of it as coup de grâce.” I offer a weak smile. “This time, you have no choice, Blakely. Give me my mercy killing.”
This is my chance to rewrite our script. The villain gets his redemptive ending.
18
Burn Me Twice
Blakely
I’ve been here before.
Only this time, even though the flames are figurative, they burn twice as hot.
Alex had asked me to kill him in the dark room, when he placed a river stone in my hand. His demons were torturing him, and to quiet them, to put a permanent stop to his madness and the killing, I knew what I had to do.
But I was too weak, and I consciously allowed the fire to make the choice for me.
Was my weakness due to crippling emotions? Because I had never experienced love before?
I still don’t fully understand, but as the seconds tick around us on an endless, echoing loop, I drop Alex’s gaze and light my phone screen, reading over Grayson’s text to try to glean a different meaning.
You and I are very similar, Blakely, the only difference is, you were born, where I was made. The psychopathic mind cannot be altered. I think, in time, you’ll find yourself regressing to your former baseline self, where your emotions resort to shallow affect—all except for one unavoidable aspect: your feelings for Alex. This is the strange anomaly. Love can remake us, again and again, we are reborn. If you’re honest with yourself, then the rest will unravel effortlessly. The only way out of this trap is to accept who you are, and embrace the darkness you were born with.
I toss the phone, letting it clatter loudly to the tile floor.
I couldn’t kill Alex then, and God help me, I can’t kill him now.
I’m fated to my weakness, the same as Alex’s fate has always been time.
Time will take him before I can.
I tuck the vials into my jeans and hold on to the syringe as I rush to the hoist contraption. Muttering a curse, I make a snap judgment to pull the rusted lever, and the zip of the cable line races across my skin, making me shiver.
Alex collapses to the floor.
“Shit, sorry.” I grab up the cable and follow it until I reach him, where I untwist one end from around his wrist, then the other.
He says nothing as he tips his head back and brings his palm to my face. The bandage is missing. His scars are rough against my skin. He’s shaking due to the abuse to his muscles. As his pale-blue eyes capture mine, I stop moving, stop breathing.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
He licks his lips. “I’m not sure. Maybe it will hit all at once, be quick.”
My chest pangs with a hollow ache. I swallow the fiery lump in my throat, then take a moment to glance at Addisyn. She’s still breathing. Calm. No signs of symptoms yet.
“Here,” Alex says, as he removes the syringe from my hand. He uses his thumb to measure out each dose I’ll need to administer along the barrel. “Give her a dose of each every five minutes until the effects subside.”
My heart batters my chest wall, making it difficult to breathe. I look at the watch strung from the rafter. Four minutes have already passed. Time is slipping through my fingers.
I meet Alex’s eyes and, with a trembling hand, brush his hair away from his forehead. “I don’t have a choice,” I say, a flame licking my lungs.
“I know,” he says. “This is the only choice you can make. I don’t think I’m capable of being the man who deserves you. I’m too greedy. I’ll hurt and maim and kill to keep you, and will feel no regret. I’ll never stop, Blakely.”
His mouth tips into that endearing, boyish smile—the one that first made me notice how beautiful he was, and also made me loathe him. I think I knew from the start that, if only I was capable, I could fall for Alex.
But we became too dark, too twisted, and I don’t know how to move past all the pain and damage we’ve caused…especially to each other.
London says awakening. Grayson claims rebirth. Alex believes necrosis can kill enough brain cells to alter us, as if it’s as simple as letting a piece of me die. The piece I’d have to sacrifice is the one which has kept my moral sense on track, even when I had no empathy to guide me.
My conscience.
I’m not sure what would be born in its place. How could I trust that Alex and I wouldn’t fall so far down the rabbit hole we’d be lost forever?
We’d have each other.
A goddamn tear slips down my cheek, and Alex gathers it with his thumb.
“Ask me to kiss you,” he says.
Leave it up to this twisted asshole to get his way on his fucking death bed.
My lips quiver as I lean into him and whisper across his lips. “Kiss me, Alex.”
He grasps the back of my neck and brings my mouth to his. His lips are soft but firm, conveying the torn emotions thrumming through the both of us. The kiss starts as a slow simmer, then he infuses it with blistering heat, building into a passionate fire destined to consume. I’m left breathless as I match his intensity.