Page 40 of The Last One Standing (Rogue X Ara #4)

A hand landed on my shoulder, and a scream crawled up my throat. I scrambled away from it—away from him , but it all blurred together. It was too cold, too dark, too hazy, the sound of water bubbling in my ears, air evading my lungs.

“Real.”

My back hit a rail, and I was trapped.

Trapped and drowning.

Chains wound down my arms like serpents, descending to my wrists. I shook my arms, screaming and flailing, but they were impervious to it all. They locked into place with an audible click, followed by the ones around my ankles.

A hard slap snapped my head to the side, and I froze before sucking in a real breath.

My assailant stood as still as stone—assailants.

Twin statues stood before me, Delphia and Doran.

Delphia sobbed, her hand covering her mouth. Doran, however, stood with no reaction and had slapped me back into reality.

My cheeks were wet, both stinging, one from cold, the other from the reddening hand print, but I wasn’t chained. I ran my fingers over my wrists as I scanned the deck. Other than the two before me, it was empty.

No chains. No buckets of water. No dungeon.

No ceiling. No walls.

Outside.

Free.

Opposite the moon, low on the horizon, rays of green broke over the sea. I couldn’t remember the last time I watched the sun rise.

“Thanks,” I rasped.

“I’m sorry,” Delphia said. “I’m so sorry. I?—”

“Stop,” I snapped.

Delphia clenched and unclenched her fists with a wince. Seconds passed, a minute, then Doran grabbed her arm. She gasped, but his face was tight, nostrils flared. When Delphia unfurled her fist, four crescent shapes leaked red on her palm.

She hurt herself.

“I cost you everything. Rogue his wings. Alden his life.”

I tensed, fingers curling around the wooden bench, knuckles white.

“Adonis manipulated me. H-he made me believe Doran was dead. Made me believe Rogue killed him.” Her words came fast, all running together amid the ringing in my ears. “I thought I was avenging his death, but you saved me. You pulled his claws from my head and saved me. You gave me my memory back.”

I stopped feeling the cold at some point. My eyes stopped seeing. My mind stopped thinking.

“Who will give me mine back?” I asked under my breath.

“W-what?”

My gaze shot to her, and I asked again, louder, harsher, “Who will give me mine back?”

“I’m sorry, Ara.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry .”

Rationally, I knew it wasn’t her fault. I could see the havoc her guilt wreaked on her body. It was degrading—decaying with her soul still inside it. That wouldn’t have happened if she wanted all of this.

Irrationally, I didn’t care, because I was rotting, too. My anger needed a target, and as bitter as the words tasted, they left my mouth all the same. Words turned weapons, as if hurting her would make me hurt any less.

It wouldn’t work. I knew that.

I fucking knew it, but I couldn’t stop them.

“It’s not good enough,” I whispered. Bitter.

So fucking bitter. “It’s not good enough, Delphia!

Do you know what it’s like to drown without actually drowning?

Over and over and over. Not swimming or sinking or thrashing or fighting for your life—No.

No, you do thrash. You do fight for your life, but it’s useless. It’s all useless.”

A dry laugh left my lips, foreign, even to my own ears, my fingers tight around one wrist, twisting back and forth.

I continued because I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop any of it: my words, my fear, my memories, my torture.

“The water shockingly doesn’t go into the lungs. Your mind, your body thinks it does, acts like it does, panics like it does. But no. You don’t drown. You suffocate while all that Goddess-forsaken water goes to your stomach. It fills and fills until you’re exploding, vomiting.”

Tears soaked her cheeks. Her nails bit into her palms again. Blood dripped onto the deck, and Doran backed away one stiff step at a time, his jaw clenched, eyes on the horizon.

“Do you know what it’s like to have someone in your head?

I suppose you do.” My trembling hand cupped my forehead as vision after violating vision flashed behind my eyes.

“It feels real—what you see, hear, feel. What you feel feels real.” My fingers tangled in my hair, knotted.

“The pain is real . It’s worse than the water.

Than the shackles. Than his hands. The blood, spikes, metal.

No, the fragmented reality is the worst, always waiting, waiting, waiting, anticipating the moment you’ll wake up to his face, for him to tell you this is all a joke.

A horrible, painful, agonizing joke. That is real. ”

The hatch slammed open, breaking off its hinges, and whoever emerged from it was no man or Fae.

It was a beast with a deep, feral growl.

I didn’t look away from Delphia, though, my undeserving target. “That is still real.”

I’m still waiting. Always waiting.

Another beast was close by. A long, serpentine wyvern circled the skies above us, despite the threat my chaos posed.

Delphia finally looked away when the wyvern’s roar vibrated the ship beneath our feet. I felt it in my damned bones, the call of an apex predator.

But not the apex predator.

I finally met Rogue’s gaze, thunder rumbling in the distance. My breath hitched when clouds swallowed the sunrise I’d wanted to watch, and lightning cracked, but no rain fell.

Not tonight.

Not on my skin.

Rogue was clad in just his trousers, unbuttoned, his hair loose, and feet bare—he should’ve stopped to pull on shoes, socks at least. Black scales armored his neck and torso, and the fire in his eyes, the pure rage, deepened the shadows on his face.

He was hauntingly beautiful.

He deserved a mate who wasn’t haunted by another.

As he stalked toward us, scorched footprints followed in his wake, and I was certain if the ship wasn’t made of wood, Delphia would’ve been a pile of ash already. Perhaps my lack of rain saved her life, my apology for berating her into tears—meaningless, as it went unvoiced and unheard.

For some reason unbeknownst to me, I backed away from Rogue.

I trusted him. Despite not knowing anything about him. Despite him holding me hostage at his side, moving me around wherever he saw fit. Despite his shift and lack of empathy, of any emotion really, other than anger and obsession.

Despite it all, I trusted him.

Because he didn’t hurt me. He was mostly kind. He was safe.

But that wasn’t a reason to implicitly trust someone, was it?

I didn’t know him.

But I did know he wouldn’t hurt me.

In fact, I knew he would kill anyone who did.

Yet my feet backed away, anyway.

My heart screamed to be put back together by his hands. My tired, freezing soul ached for him.

Yet my feet still backed away, and I hated that they did, because he’d lost everything.

But so had I.

Each rumble of thunder rolled into the next, deeper, louder, until it became deafening cracks. Lightning struck again and again. The air electrified, hair rising around my head, skin tingling.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered—to who, I didn’t know, only that I needed to apologize.

Rogue knew what I was doing. He tore across the deck, his fists clenched at his sides, but with each stride, the fire in his eyes flickered, rage giving way to raw distress as my hips hit the rail.

I hiked myself up to sit on it, and his brows furrowed, legs moving faster, completely disregarding Delphia, who was now a trembling mess on the floor.

But it was like he ran through molasses.

They all moved slower than I did, but I couldn’t speed them up or slow myself down. I didn’t know what was happening or why. I didn’t know anything, and that was the problem.

I was always the problem.

Silent tears slid down my cheeks, my voice cracking as I said, “I’m sorry.”

Then I peeled my fingers off the wood, closed my eyes, and fell back, every bit of tension leaving my body on an exhale.

His fingertips grazed my leg, his roar in my ears, but he couldn’t save me.

I didn’t open my eyes to see him.

Instead, I savored the wind, the freedom.

A long arm of lightning sliced through the air, crackling as it reached for me—an offering, a friend, a hand, a choice.

I reached back.

But another hand found me first.

A large hand wrapped around mine, falling with me, toward me, tightening to the point of pain.

I met Rogue’s gaze and stopped breathing when I found fear staring back, his eyes wide and frantic, boring into mine with such desperation, my hand closed around his in return.

Reckless, life-endangering desperation.

And hurt.

Rogue Draki hurt , and he held onto my hand like my life depended on it—like his life depended on it.

Just before we hit the thrashing sea, lightning consumed us both.