Page 3 of The Last One Standing (Rogue X Ara #4)

DELPHIA

C runch.

My fist connected with the bastard’s face, and blood poured from his nose.

He grunted but snapped back like a rubber band, and I ducked out of sight.

“Cheating bitch,” he shouted, spinning around.

I revealed myself a split second before my fist connected with his eye, and the crowd roared. They loved when I fought like this: dirty. They didn’t give a fuck if it was moral or not.

There was nothing moral about Canyon’s fighting pits. That was the whole point—there were no rules. Waivers were signed in blood beforehand to bypass Canyon’s most sacred laws, then it was a free-for-all.

He swung and caught my shoulder. It’d never been the same since that damned blade went through it, and his fist fucking hurt . I stumbled, blinding pain shooting from my left side, while sparks lit behind my eyes.

“Fuck,” I muttered and faded from sight once again.

I blinked rapidly until my vision steadied, clenched my jaw, and revealed myself with renewed rage.

This time, I faked a left jab and put everything I had into a right hook, hitting that sweet spot on the side of his jaw.

His head snapped to the side, his eyes going blank.

He swayed for a second before crumbling to the floor.

I didn’t hear the crowd as they cheered themselves into a frenzy. I didn’t feel when the referee held my head up or when coin was shoved into my hand from the winning bets.

I didn’t even know how I ended up here at the pub, but I had money, and that was all that mattered.

The owner of Honeyed knew my face now—bruises, cuts, and all. While he was nice enough, I was wary of him. His ears were…wrong. Their tips had been made, not born, and it was off-putting.

He slid a mug of mead to me without a word, and I dipped my chin in thanks.

I brought it to my lips when a grating voice reached me, and I rolled my eyes.

“Fancy seeing you here. Again.” Terran took the seat beside me.

“If I disappear from sight, will you leave me alone?” I said before taking a long drag of mead.

He glared in my direction. “You’d still be here, no?”

My grip tightened on the metal handle, my cracked and bleeding knuckles. “Leave me alone.”

“So you can destroy yourself?”

I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. Why shouldn’t I?

No one would care. There was no one left to care.

He lifted a hand to the bartender, who slid him a glass of whiskey. Terran took a long sip, faced me, and asked that same damned question he had every single night without fail.

“Why did your friends leave you here?”

I never answered because half my “friends” were dead, and they weren’t my friends when they met their end.

I should be dead.

Ara had not been sighted. Alden was buried.

Rogue lived…sort of. From what I’d heard, he had become the beast his father always wanted him to be—bloodthirsty. His wyverns wreaked havoc on Auryna alongside him.

He finally lived up to his name, the Rogue King.

Ewan and Lee had left unscathed but shaking with fury. I was certain they were also steeped in guilt for not being there, but that most likely saved their lives. They would have died with Alden.

I hadn’t left Canyon since that night, adamantly refused to. Not for fear that Rogue would finally end me, but because I deserved to suffer. I deserved to stay and live with the shame of what I’d done, to drown and destroy myself.

I wanted to die, but I couldn’t. Not yet.

Doran would hate me. Rogue did hate me.

My two brothers.

Gone.

The darkness slithered around my brain, taunting, grinning, licking its lips as it watched me disintegrate.

I reached over the bar and grabbed a bottle of rum. The bartender with cut ears glared at me, but didn’t say a word as I filled my mug with rum, mixing it with the mead.

It didn’t matter that I would be unconscious later or vomiting in the morning through a splitting migraine. That was unavoidable, my routine, because I needed to drown my demons.

I chugged it until my stomach warmed with alcohol, and Terran merely watched with his chin resting on his fist.

My eyes cut to him.

“Rogue is still searching for his mate,” he said matter-of-factly, a tone that grated my already frayed nerves.

“Yes,” I replied, “I know.”

“Do you know where she is?”

I slammed the mug down, and liquor splashed out, stinging the cuts on my knuckles. “Do you think I would be here if I did?”

“I don’t know why you’re here.” He eyed me closely, and it was the first time I saw outright suspicion in his gaze.

He’d always regarded me with curiosity, but this was different. This crawled under my skin and made me want to claw the guilt and shame from my chest. It made me want to drink until my mind went black, until I didn’t have to feel this anymore, until I didn’t have to feel anything.

I wanted to drink and fight until I didn’t wake up anymore.

A flush crept up my neck to my cheeks, and I jerked my gaze back to the bar. “Well, neither do I.”

Lies, that demon whispered in my mind.

He knocked on the bar with his fist once, twice, then leapt down from the stool. His retreating footsteps echoed over the tavern chatter. I turned to see him stop before a tall blonde woman, the blacksmith with the firebird tattoo, and swiveled back around to the bar.

Why am I here?

I should have died in that alley.

I should have died for my treachery, intentional or not.

I killed Alden.

I sacrificed Ara and Rogue.

I sheared Rogue’s wings from his back.

Whether it was my hands or not, it was my fault.

My fault.

My fault.

Your fault. The darkness closed in around my head, swallowing me until my chest ached and caved in. I swallowed gulp after gulp of burning liquid to aid it.