My heart fucking pounded against my ribcage, and I felt bile rise to the back of my throat as we traveled back downstairs. What the hell was going on?
The taxi driver I'd managed to hail was pushing eighty, and the fucker seemed to want nothing more than to keep me from getting to my friend. Carter lived a few blocks away, in a quiet area, on a beautiful road with only four other neighbors. But the taxi driver's incessant need to drive as slow as possible meant that not at one point did the world outside the window began to blur through speed, and I was trying my hardest to keep calm.
My leg bounced up and down, I had tried to call Carter six times since I'd gotten in the taxi, and each time it went straight to voice mail. That alone was enough to push me closer to the edge; my best friend never let his cell die; neither did he switch it off.
The driver took a right and hummed along with the radio, oblivious to my bubbling anxiety, and I decided to give my father a call, see if he knew what the hell had happened.
We were just a block away when he answered, his voice groggy with sleep told me he also had no clue what was wrong.
“Jax? Everything okay, son?” He asked, stifling a yawn.
I sighed, “Pops, I'm on my way to Carter's; something bad has happened.”
“What the hell you talking about?”
“I don't know. Luca found me at the club, said Carter had gone home and rang not long after in a right mess. Other than that, I know as much as you do. I'm just pulling into his road now...”
My voice trailed off as the driver emerged on to Carter's road.
Seeing him standing outside his house, his white shirt soaked with blood sent shivers through my spine. Shivers so violent, I could feel each vertebrae shake and rattle. His dirty blond hair was speckled red, and, as the car drew nearer, I saw the terror in his eyes. The grief-stricken horror was as palpable as the New Mexican sun. He was motionless, stiller than the dead of night, I wasted no time in chucking some notes at the bewildered elderly driver and jumping from the car.
“Jax! Jaxon!”
Shit, I had forgotten my dad on the phone. I held the device to my ear as I stepped closer to carter, his body trembling, blue eyes focused on the ground before him. Swallowing, I answered, “Pops, send the guys and get here quick. I have to go.”
“Jax, wait!”
I hung up, pocketing my phone before taking one last step, bringing me within arms reach of my friend. He looked like shit, leaving me wanting to turn on my heels and pretend that something awful wasn't waiting for me inside his home. The front door was wide open, a soft glow of light cut through the darkness, but I couldn't see a thing. Nothing other than familiar wallpaper.
The lump in my throat wouldn't budge, restricting the oxygen from filling my lungs, and although there was a breeze, perspiration coated my skin.
Opening my mouth to speak, I was unable to find the words.
Carter's eyes snapped up, focusing on everything and nothing as his bottom lip trembled. “She's dead.” His voice was carried away by the slight wind. I could have sworn he said she was dead.
I stepped closer, placing a hand on the one part of his shirt that wasn't drenched with blood. “Who's dead?” My stupid mouth asked. Something washed over his face, something that yanked him back down to reality. He lowered his head again, his eyes taking in the sight of the blood, and then they widened. The panic, the horror of whatever he'd seen setting him, smacking into him with the force of a bulldozer.
“Oh, no! Oh, no, no, no!” Carter pulled away from me, ripping the shirt from his back before flinging it to the ground. His feet pounded the grass in his yard, leaving imprints of his anger, as he paced back and forth, his desperate cries growing louder and louder.
Rushing towards him, I threw my arms around his shoulders, pinning his erratic hands to his sides. Whatever was waiting for me inside was bad. Real fucking bad. “Carter, tell me what's happened, bud. I can't help if I don't know.”
Burying his face into my neck, his tears soaked my skin, and his fingers gripped my back. “Amy...I came home. Oh, shit, Jax. I can't fucking breathe. My baby!” He wailed, and I felt his knees buckle against me, his weight pulling him to the floor. I sunk to the ground with him.
The bile rose and burned my throat, and I had no choice but to swallow it down, feel its vicious sting and hold it together for Carter. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Never before had I felt my heart and soul splinter. Amy. Just hours ago, she had her arms around my neck, an infectious smile on her face, and a baby alive and growing in her belly. Everything suddenly hurt.
Who the fuck was responsible? We couldn't even call the police. Working under Vladimir's power meant the emergency services were never a goddamn option.
As blood left Carter's skin and printed on to mine, I felt my mind power down. Confusion, anger, grief, and a whole heap of emotions I'd never felt before attacking each of my senses. Memories of the years the three of us had spent together came at me: Images of her strutting through the hallways of our school, with all the confidence she could only possess. She joined high school during our sophomore year, and stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the other girls we went to school with, and she was a breath of fresh air in a goddamn world that was, usually, stifling.
Carter hiccuped, yanking me back down to reality, and I had to wipe away my tears. Time passed, although I'm not sure how much.
Carter was still sobbing when my father and his SUV pulled up in front of the house, blocking as much of the view as possible, shielding the nightmare from nosy, prying eyes. From the passenger side, Archibald Murdoch stepped out, his dark features reflecting how I felt. Three other familiar faces, their bodies donning the Murdoch tux, exited the vehicle, and all four men stalked towards us.
My father whispered into Graham's ear as the others made a beeline for the front door. Crouching down before Carter and me, my dad looked his fifty-three years, the street lights causing the gray of his sideburns to glisten. I could see the weight of the world on his shoulders, the heartache on his face as he regarded the broken man in my arms.
“Carter? Son? Come on, let's get you in the truck.” Archibald's voice pierced the eerie silence. Carter didn't move.
I looked down at him, at his face still resting on my bare chest, “Carter? We need to get you up, okay? Come on.” Slowly, with shaking limbs, he let me stand him up, yet his grip on me never softened. My father nodded at me, and I walked over to the car.
Opening the door, I released Carter and then helped him settle on the back seat. He flopped inside, curled up into a ball, and his eyes could have cut glass as they focused, unmoving, on his home behind me.
Getting down on my hunches, I took his hands in mine, unsure of what to say, but completely aware I should have said something. “We'll get the fucker who done this, Cart; I promise you that,” was all I could manage through my cracking voice. “Just rest now. Dad and I need to sort this out; you'll be staying with me, and that's not up for debate.”
I went to stand up when Carter clawed at my hand, clutching it like a scared child. His bottom lip was trembling as he took a big gulp of air. He exhaled, and what he said next shook me to my core. “They took her beautiful face.”
The world beneath me tumbled away, and I slammed my eyes shut, hoping that would rid the image from my mind. It didn't.