“Where the fuck is she?” Byron spins around as Marek drops his eyes from the ceiling, but it’s far too late.
Byron pushes past him, heading straight for the stairs. His footsteps are closing in on me. There’s no time. I take large, quiet steps, but metal isn’t forgiving, creaking and screeching each time my foot lands.
“She’s on the catwalk!” Dixon yells.
Fuck! I hurry across, remembering a second way to the main floor. I reach the end, and Byron’s head pops over the railing. His dark, sinister glare burns straight to my soul, sucking the life from my lungs.
Shiny metal catches my eye, a second before I trip on the lip of the step and fall. I’m pulled backwards by my ankle. Byron brandishes the knife in my face.
“Do it,” I goad him. “Kill me just like you killed her.”
“It didn’t have to be this way,” Byron says, lifting the knife and stabbing me in the side.
Adrenaline cycles through my body, masking the initial pain. I cover the wound, lifting my hand long enough to see the damage. Blood seeps through my dress, and I reapply pressure. Dizziness creeps in, and the scent of copper infiltrates my senses, making my stomach churn.
I struggle to my feet, and Byron slashes at my calf, making it almost impossible to get away.
“Fight,” I whisper. I reach two doors, and choosing the one on the right, I walk out onto the roof.
“Wrong one, sweetheart!” Byron yells, the metal door slamming behind him. He rubs the blood-coated blade over the chest of his shirt, cleaning off the evidence of his evil. “Now what are you going to do?”
Dixon walks out on the roof and does a double-take.
“Jesus,” he whispers, seeing me pressing my hand to my stomach and limping as far away as I can. Remorse etches every feature of his face.
Seems this isn’t part of the plan.
“Like I said, it didn’t have to be like this, but sometimes evil stops evil, and I will do everything I have to do to right what happened,” Byron barks, closing in on me. “Grab her other side.”
Everything he says and does is lost inside my brain, hidden way beneath the fog my blood loss has created. Dixon holds my hands to my sides, exposing the wound Byron’s blade created.
“I’ll die, Dixon.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m going to die.”
The back of Byron’s hand smacks my cheek. Blood pools around my tongue, and I spit it straight at his face, earning me another blow.
Breaker is the next to join us. When he notices me, beaten and broken, he grapples with the door, trying to keep someone inside. In the end, Marek’s too strong for him, pushing past Breaker’s weak barrier.
“No, no, no.” Marek stalks forward.
“You see, I knew this was going to be a problem.” Byron waves the knife between Marek and me. “I knew immediately that you’d slither into his chest and make yourself comfortable. Just like your sister did with me. He’d never be able to start what needed to be done.” He circles the metal blade in front of my face. “Not that he didn’t try, because he did, Palmer, you need to know that. Even right now, he’s struggling. He wants to run to you, save you, but he and I both know that’s not possible. When it comes to her, I’ll always choose her. Even over all of them.”
The knife stabs into my thigh. He pulls it out. Cold heat takes over my body. I fall backwards towards the snow-covered roof, swallowing the blood already making its way up my throat. The hard surface of the roof never greets me. Instead, I fall towards a dark oblivion, ready to swallow me whole.
Until a hand grasps around my arm and suspends me between reality and the black abyss waiting to suck me in.
Chaos and violence surround me, taking every last breath in my lungs.
Except one.
The last one is held until icy blue eyes find me.
Chapter Fourteen
Marek
I watch the heart rate monitor, making sure it’s bouncing up and down. Constant and consistent. This is the only true proof she’s still alive. Her skin is ashen, lifeless, torturing me as I wait for any movement. If she could just squeeze my hand, tell me she’s still in there, only then would I be able to take the breath I’ve been needing since I saw Byron holding the knife to her skin.
Beyond the curtains, the night sky is dark, clouds dancing around the moon, casting our world in shadows. I sit forward, watching her chest rise and fall, memories from tonight circulating through my mind. The blood on the snow-covered roof. The pure fear in Palmer’s eyes as she fell backwards. The wave of relief when I got to her in time. When my hand wrapped around her arm. Her fighting, harnessing what little energy she had left, to grip my forearm. The world could have split right in half, and I wouldn’t have noticed.
We held our breath together, feeling the end closing in on us.
Anything beyond her doesn’t matter.
“I almost lost you,” I whisper as I swipe her hair way from her face.
“Here.” Breaker steps into the hospital room, offering me a cup of coffee. I take it, barely able to stay awake. “How is she?”
“Still asleep,” I say, taking a sip of the piping hot liquid, then setting the cup on the table next to her bed. “Surgery went well. He got her deep on her stomach.”
Once I had Palmer in my arms, I applied pressure to the worst of her wounds. Breaker called 911. He didn’t give an explanation, only the easy facts. A girl had been attacked and had several knife wounds.
“It wasn’t a good idea,” Breaker admits, taking the seat across from me. He speaks offhandedly, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from losing the small amount of control I’ve gained since holding her hand after her surgery. He watches her, sorrow and worry crossing over his usual stoic face. “I see that now, and I didn’t think he’d come as unglued as he did.”
“If she doesn’t wake up, I don’t know what I’ll do.” I lower my head, the heaviness too much to hold any sense of strength in my body.
“We won’t do anything.” Byron’s voice startles us both. He’s the last person I expect to see in the doorway, in this room, with Palmer. “Because she’s going to wake up. She has to.”
How he musters up the desperation in his voice is a fucking talent. He’s done this. He stabbed her, making the choice to take our plan to a level it was never meant to be.
Palmer’s heart monitor speeds up. I stand and squeeze her hand, running my thumb over her skin. Does she sense Byron in the room? Can she hear the voice attached to the hatred that landed her in this bed?
“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Byron’s useless excuses don’t mean shit right now. He’s not someone capable of remorse or guilt.
“Get out!” I yell, pushing my chair out of the way to shove his body further from hers, to finally protect her as I should have all along. “Now.” I slam my hands into his chest, forcing him backwards. He looks betrayed and confused at my aggression.
Breaker steps between us, gripping Byron’s shirt and helping him out of the room. When he’s gone, I close the door and settle back in next to her. Once he’s back, Breaker scrutinizes me, a curious squint to his eyes. I don’t justify his thoughts with an unwanted response. Instead, I watch her eyelids, praying I’ll see the life in them again.