“Creigh! Can you hear me?”
I grab him by the collar and use the last breaths in my lungs to choke out, “T-tell…Mum and…Dad…t-that I-I’m sorry…”
The last sight I catch is blurred blue-gray eyes and the last thing I hear is my custom-made Grim Reaper calling my name.
But I’m already gone.
The rage dulls to nothingness and I close my eyes.
It’s finally…over.
29
ANNIKA
No.
No.
Just no.
This must be a nightmare. If I wake up, I’ll find myself back to two days ago. In the grocery store, holding Creighton’s hand and talking about everything and nothing.
This time, I won’t let Jeremy find us, and if he does, I won’t leave with him. I’ll grab Creigh’s hand and stay.
I’ll take him with me and run.
That way, everything will be okay. Everything will go back to normal, and I won’t be trapped in this nightmare.
It’s strange, the type of thoughts that run through your head when everything else cancels itself out. When it’s white noise, bleak silence, and red.
Lots of red.
Blood red.
Red. Red. Red.
I don’t know how I end up on my knees. I don’t walk to where he fell. I crawl on the rough surface with the uncoordinated speed of an injured animal.
My vision is blind to all the people surrounding us and my ears are deaf to the shouts and chaotic noise.
The only sound I hear is a long buzz and the only thing I see is him and red.
He’s all red.
Because of my gun. The one I shouldn’t have brought with me when I found out Jeremy was in danger. The one I should’ve kept in the car and not slipped beneath my hoodie.
My body rolls or maybe it’s the room that’s spinning in an irregular rhythm. Maybe my prayers will be answered and I will wake up from this nightmare.
Now, please.
Someone wake me up.
Instead of opening my eyes, I sink my hands into that red, all dark and sticky and not where it’s supposed to. It should be inside him, not outside.
Through a blur, I lift my hand to stare at the blood that’s coating my fingers and then at the body it’s left.
Someone, Landon, presses both his hands on the gash in Creigh’s back harshly, where more of his life essence escapes.
On and on, it keeps flowing, forming a pool beneath his body.
Creighton’s face is pale, lacks expression, and his eyes are closed, causing his lashes to flutter on his cheeks.
His massive build is unmoving, lifeless.
He…looks nothing like the Creighton I know.
People might see him as gloomy, too silent, or too cold, but he’s the one who made me feel alive.
The one who changed everything.
And I took it away.
Everything.
All of it.
I think I’m going to throw up.
Just when nausea clogs my throat, a strong hand pulls me by the arm. For a moment, I think it’s that wake-up call I’ve been praying for.
Maybe it’s Creigh, who’s calling me a sleepyhead—when he’s way worse—and he’s surprising me with a date.
Maybe he’ll watch Pride and Prejudice with me again, call me a hopeless romantic, then fuck me.
Maybe Tiger will have a Peeping Tom session and he’ll be irrationally jealous about it.
So I let it happen. Closing my eyes, I chalk the whole scene up to a horrible nightmare.
The nightmare of all nightmares.
I wait for the ball that’s clogging my throat to disappear. I wait for the trembling in my limbs to subside and the stickiness to vanish from my fingers.
It gets worse.
Seeps deeper.
Closes my throat further.
When I open my eyes, I’m being shoved in the direction of a car, fresh tears streaming down my cheeks as I catch a glimpse of Jeremy.
His brow is furrowed as he studies the Elites’ circular driveway.
“No,” I murmur, clutching my head with my bloodied hands. “No, no, no, no…a nightmare, a nightmare, this is only a nightmare…”
“Anoushka…stop fighting me and get in the car.”
It’s then I realize I’ve been wiggling, struggling, and jerking, preventing my brother from pushing me into the passenger seat.
I come to a halt, pull my hands from my temples, and drown in the red.
All red.
Blood red.
His red.
“Anoushka…”
I stare at my brother and the cut on his shoulder through my blurred vision. “Tell me this is a nightmare. Tell me you’re not real, Jer. This…this is just in my head. I didn’t… I didn’t…shoot him.”
“You did, and we need to get the fuck out of here while they’re distracted.”
I shake my head continuously, with enough force that I’m surprised it doesn’t fall off. “I-I’m…going to go back in there and make sure this is a nightmare…it has to be…”
My brother grabs me by the shoulders and slams me against the car. “Wake the fuck up, Annika. You shot him in the fucking chest. He’s probably dead, and if you go in there, they’ll only kill you, do you understand?”
“No…no…no…” My murmurs grow in intensity and so do my wiggling and distressed attempts to escape his hold.
This time, Jeremy throws me inside, uses the seatbelt to strap me in, and then he runs to the driver’s side.
I try to free myself, desperately, manically. But my involuntary tears and trembling bloodied hands make it impossible.
My brother’s car raves down the driveway and he nearly breaks the gate on his way out.
He’s speeding, and I’m wailing, looking behind me, through the mirror, through the gaps. Anywhere that I can catch a glimpse of him.
It doesn’t take us long to reach the Heathens’ compound. The moment Jeremy undoes the seatbelt, I run back toward the entrance.
No clue where I’m going on foot, but I can find a solution as long as I’m out of here. I can—
Merciless arms wrap around my middle and Jeremy all but lifts me off the ground. “The fuck you think you’re going?”
“To make sure it’s a nightmare.”
“It’s not.” His voice is harsh, all dark and businesslike. Usually, that would send me running. Now, it does nothing compared to the horror invading my bones.
He puts me down, grabs my elbow, and drags me with him inside the mansion. I try to free myself, but there’s no reasoning with my buffalo of a brother.
“What’s going—well, fuck.” Gareth stops near the entrance and studies all the blood decorating us. “Are you okay?”
“Nikolai,” Jeremy lets out through gritted teeth. “We have to make sure he’s okay. The crazy fucker had his throat sliced to keep from becoming my weakness.”
“Holy fuck.” Gareth retrieves his phone and storms toward the door. “I’m on it.”
“Where’s Kill?” Jeremy shouts, but Gareth has already left.
“A nightmare,” I murmur, half conscious, half trapped in a loop. “It’s just a nightmare. It can only be a nightmare.”
“Looking for me?” Killian appears at the top of the stairs, tilting his head to the side, narrowing his eyes on me. “Did you really shoot Creighton?”