Page 48 of Exiled

A moment of silence, and an explosion of violence. Logan is knocked backward, and you are lunging through the doorway. I shrink back against Cocoa’s door. She’s wild, barking, snarling,scrabbling. Tearing the door down like she did when Caleb was gone.

Not this. Not again.

Logan is up on his feet, bleeding from his lip. “Back off, motherfucker. Just leave before this gets messy, huh?”

But you are lightning, you are a striking serpent. Pistol whipping out, a black blur, the point jammed up into Logan’s chin. “I willnotmiss a second time, Ryder.”

You twist the barrel into Logan’s flesh. Turn, see me. Your eyes flash, your lip curls. “X. Get over here.Now.”

I rise to my feet. Straighten my spine. “No, Caleb. It’s over. I don’t want to see you anymore. Never again.”

“Isabel.” This, from you, is a plea. Low, vicious, desperate. “Youmust.”

“No.” I gesture at Logan. “I love him. If you kill him, you will have to kill me as well.”

“Isabel—” Logan grunts.

“No. You shut the fuck up, Ryder.” Your voice is a rabid, grating snarl. Rough, unstable. To me, then: “Isabel.”

You wander away from Logan, but the gun stays trained on him. To me. Stumbling, nearly. Uncharacteristically uncoordinated. Not drunk; your eyes are lucid. Mad. Crazed. I don’t even know. I glance at Logan. Plead with him silently to stay put. I will not allow you to shoot him again.

“You don’t need the gun, Caleb.” I make sure my voice is cool, calm.

“You’ll come with me?”

“No.”

“Then I need the gun. You are mine. You will come with me.” Your voice is... not yours. Not Caleb’s. Almost as if you are regressing. Becoming Jakob, somehow. Someone less refined, less in control. The Czech is showing through in your rhythms and diction.

“I can’t, Caleb. I do not belong to you. Not anymore. I’m with Logan now.”

A snarl. The gun levels at Logan. “Then he is dead. He should have already been dead. He does not get to have you. Only I.”

“Caleb, please.” I touch his wrist. Urge him to lower the gun. “Please don’t do this. Don’t.”

Your hand latches onto my wrist. You jerk me hard, so I fly through the air, land against you. “Mine—only mine. Not his.”

“Caleb, let go. You’re hurting me.”

“Let her go, asshole!” Logan shouts.

Cocoa’s claws are gouging through the door.

Logan lunges again, and Caleb fires. Misses. A hole appears in the wall to Logan’s left.

“A warning, only. For her. Back.” You grab me by the throat.

Twist me so my back is to your front. The gun jabs at Logan. Your fingers pinch against my throat. I cannot breathe. I don’t think you realize what you’re doing.

“Let her go, Caleb,” Logan murmurs, careful now. Voice low, slow, soft. “Let her go. You’re hurting her. You’re choking her.”

You glance down, let me go with a start. But then you grab me once more, this time one of my wrists, the other, pinioning them in one of your hands behind my back. Propelling me to the door.

“Caleb—” I start.

“Silence.” You push me to the door. Let me go. Twist in place to cover Logan with the gun. “You. On your knees.”

“Not gonna happen, man. You can shoot me if that’s your game. You did once, already. I survived that.”