Page 42

M y very shallow breath feels like sandpaper scraping against raw skin, each intake radiating pain from my ribs down to my stomach, where that bastard’s fist slammed into me earlier. I can feel the bruises forming, the sharp ache of a cracked rib.

Doesn’t matter.

It all hurts like hell.

My head sags forward, and I stare at the bloodied concrete beneath me. My blood. The dark stain spreads, soaking into the cracks of the floor like the place itself is hungry for it.

I can barely see through the swelling in my left eye. The right isn’t much better, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to see to know what’s coming.

The masked man stands over me. He’s close enough now that I can hear his breathing, heavy and out of breath. Honestly, I expected better stamina from him.

I know who he is.

The bastard walked among us for years. A lion in sheep’s clothing, hiding behind a smile, playing the role of friend and brother. He fooled everyone. Hell, he fooled me. We all spent weeks researching everyone. How could we miss the signs? Everything stares in my face now.

The thought makes my stomach churn, a fresh wave of nausea rolling over me. I try to fight it, clenching my teeth, but the bile rises anyway, burning the back of my throat.

I want to fight. I need to fight.

But my body betrays me. Every muscle feels like it’s weighed down with lead, my limbs useless and limp against the ropes cutting into my skin. I shift slightly, testing the bonds again, but they’re tight—too tight. The coarse fibers dig into my wrists, slick with sweat and blood, and I can feel the numbness creeping up my fingers.

“Fucking coward,” I rasp, my spit mixed with blood drips out of the corner of my mouth. My throat feels like it’s lined with razor blades, each word a struggle.

I can’t see his face, but I can feel his gaze on me. He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t react. Just stands there, watching, like he’s savoring the sight of me broken and bleeding.

I want to spit at him, to curse him, to scream, but all I can manage is a shallow, ragged breath.

This can’t be how it ends.

The thought circles in my head like a vulture. I’ve faced danger before, walked through hell and back with the people I love. But this? This feels different.

Because deep down, I know it could end here.

The realization doesn’t hit me all at once. It creeps in, slow and insidious, settling in my chest like a stone. The knife catches the faint glow of the single overhead bulb.

Time slows.

The edges of my vision blur, the flickering light above me growing dimmer. The pain, the fear—they start to fade, replaced by something colder.

Acceptance.

For a moment, everything feels distant, like I’m watching it all happen from somewhere outside my body. The fear that’s been clawing at my throat loosens its grip and a strange calm washes over me.

If this is how it ends, at least I won’t go down without knowing who the real monster is. I lift my head, barely, forcing my gaze upward. My vision swims, the figure before me blurring into a shadowy outline, but I hold on.

“Go ahead,” I manage through a broken whisper. “Do it.”

The blade pierces my skin, and suddenly, everything snaps into horrifying clarity.

The pain is indescribable.

It’s not just a sharp sting or a dull ache—it’s a deep, searing, white-hot agony that tears through my abdomen and radiates outward like molten fire. My muscles seize, my body instinctively arching against the ropes that hold me down.

I try to scream, but the sound caught in my throat is somewhere between a choked gasp and a guttural groan. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out everything except the ragged sound of my breathing and the wet, nauseating squelch as the knife is pulled from my flesh.

For a split second, I feel nothing but cold.

Then the pain roars back, sharper and deeper, as though the blade left behind a wound that’s ripping wider with each shallow breath. My chin is slick with sweat and blood. I cough, and the metallic taste of iron floods my mouth, coating my tongue, spilling out onto my chin.

The world tilts violently, the edges of my vision swimming in and out of focus. I can feel the warm, sticky pool of blood beneath me, soaking into my clothes, spreading across the cold, unforgiving floor.

This is it.

The thought slams into me. I’m dying.

A flickering fluorescent light buzzes above, and I latch onto its faint, rhythmic hum, desperate for anything to ground me. My vision blurs again, the light morphing into an amorphous halo, taunting me as my body fights to stay upright.

I feel my heart stuttering. Each beat weaker than the last. It’s a dull, labored thud in my chest, as if it knows it’s running out of time.

Somewhere in the distance, there are voices.

Familiar voices.

“Kai!”

Sable. Her voice cuts through the fog—desperate, pulling at something deep inside me. My lips part, my throat straining as I try to respond.

“M-Mahal…” I choke out. The word tastes like copper, thick and heavy.

“Kai, no! Stay with us, please!” I can hear the tremor of fear beneath her words. “Please, stay with us!”

I want to tell her I’m trying. I want to tell her I love her. But my body refuses to cooperate. My head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, my arms useless against the restraints.

“We’ve got you, man. You’re not alone. We’re here. We’ve got you.”

“Baby. Stay here. Baby… BABY!?”

The sound of Levi’s voice, breaking with each syllable, shatters something inside me. My eyelids flutter as I fight the overwhelming pull of unconsciousness. The pain hasn’t lessened, but there’s a strange, creeping numbness spreading beneath it, a heavy weight dragging me down. My body is moving, but I feel like I’m floating, no longer restrained, my arms resting by my side.

I don’t want to go.

But the darkness is seductive. It promises an end to the pain, a release from the unbearable fire burning through my body.

The light above flickers again, dimming as my vision narrows.

I try to hold on—to the light, to their voices, to the warmth of their presence—but it’s like trying to grip water.

They’re here. They came for me.

And yet, why do I feel like I can’t stay?

I love them.

The thought is my anchor, my last conscious tether, as the world fades.

Then, the darkness takes me.

The first thing I see is Levi.

He’s seated at the piano, his broad shoulders relaxed, his dark hair falling into his eyes as his hands glide effortlessly over the keys. The melody fills the room—soft, wrapping around me like a blanket on a cold night. It’s a song I know well, one he plays when words aren’t enough, when the weight of everything threatens to crush him.

I watch him, my heart swelling with a familiar warmth. He’s so focused, his brows furrowed in concentration, but there’s a softness to his expression—a quiet peace that only music seems to bring him.

He catches me staring, his fingers pausing on the keys. He raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth quirking up in that way that always makes my chest tighten.

“You really do love watching me, don’t you?”

And I did. God, I did.

I do.

I love the way his lips twitch when he’s holding back a smile, the way his dark eyes soften when he thinks no one is looking. I love the way he could say so much with so little.

The image shifts.

Now it’s Sable. She’s in the attic, the late afternoon light streaming through the dusty windows, casting a golden glow around her. Her brush moves deftly across the canvas, each stroke bringing another dancer to life amidst a field of wildflowers.

She glances over her shoulder, catching me watching, and smiles that sly little smile—the one that always makes my chest ache.

“See something you like?”

I don’t bother denying it. I love everything about her. The fire in her eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw, the way she carries the weight of the world but still manages to stand tall. She’s fierce, yet somehow, she always finds a way to be soft with me.

The scene shifts again.

Dayton, laughing too loud at one of his own jokes, his whole body shaking with the force of it. His energy is infectious, filling the room with a lightness that’s impossible to resist.

Across from him, Silas leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. He rolls his eyes, but the grin tugging at his lips betrays him. Silas may try to play the stoic, but around us, his guard always falls short.

They’re my family. My everything.

And now I’m leaving them.

The warmth of the memories are replaced with a cold, suffocating dread.

No. I can’t leave them.

But the darkness pulls at me, relentless and all-consuming. The warmth of their presence feels far away with each passing second, slipping through my fingers like sand.

I’m sorry.

I want to tell them that. I want to tell them how much they mean to me, how they’ve made my life worth living even in its darkest moments. But the words stick in my throat, lost in the void.

The last thing I see is Sable’s face, her eyes filled with tears that fall onto my face. They are warm and oddly comforting.

Don’t cry, Mahal.

I want to wipe her tears, but I’m numb. I want to say goodbye, but I can’t speak.

Her lips move, but I can’t hear her.

And then, there’s nothing.