Page 91 of Volatile King (The Kings of Wayward Academy #6)

Edmundo looked over at the hangar. “He’s in there alone?”

I nodded. “Has to be.”

He waved to his men and pointed to the door.

“Protect Blake, kill anyone else you find,” he ordered before he looked at me again and gradually let me go. I was able to stand on my own, which was a start. “Why the fuck didn’t you call me?” He snarled, pushing his long coat back and pulling one of the many guns he had stashed underneath.

“Fuck…”

“Never go into a battle unprepared.” He touched my side, and I hissed. “You shot?”

I shook my head. “Naw, just a graze.”

He held out the gun, and I didn’t want to ask, but I had to know.

“What about Ethan and Ella?”

Edmundo’s face was grim.

“I don’t know yet, but it’s not good,” he said.

“Fuck,” I swore as I wrapped my fingers around the gun handle.

Massimo stuck his head out of the door. “We need you,” he said.

Dizziness forgotten, I ran. When I got inside, I paused and stared around the hangar.

It was like I had walked into the middle of a Guy Ritchie movie.

The scent of smoke and metal was strong in the air.

My father’s men were scattered all over the floor, all of them bleeding, most dead, but a couple were still groaning. Jesus.

“In the plane,” Massimo said, pointing.

Blake.

My legs moved before my mind did, sprinting for the jet, heart hammering like a drum in my chest. I didn’t call out.

There was no point when I knew exactly where I would find him.

I prayed that I wasn’t too late, even though I knew I was.

My feet hit the stairs, and I took them two at a time. Bursting inside, I froze.

The interior was the same as always, posh with its leather seats, glossy wood panels, and gold trim. But now, there was blood splattered all over the wall and dripping down the back seats.

Blake stood in the center of the aisle. Still as a statue, eyes wide, and gun raised.

Lawrence?

The man I had called father was lying on the floor in a twisted heap, one arm crooked beneath him, the other outstretched like even in death he’d tried to crawl away. His gun was still in his hand. His eyes were open but empty as a large puddle of blood spread out around him.

He was finally gone. Dead. And all I felt was guilt. Not for his death, God forgive me, I’d dreamed about that, but that I hadn’t ended him sooner. It had taken up until this moment for Lawrence to pay, and because of that, there was so much uncertainty and pain in our futures.

Blake’s whole body was vibrating. The tremors made the gun in his hand shake violently. He had been hanging on by a thread, and it had just snapped.

“Blake.” My voice was low as I tried not to startle him.

Nothing. Blake didn’t flinch. Hardly took a breath.

I stepped forward slowly. “It’s me. It’s Nash.”

His head tilted, just slightly, like he was still catching up to the sound, like I was far away and calling him to come back.

“I shot him. I shot all of them,” Blake whispered. His voice…God…it didn’t even sound like him. It sounded hollow and empty. “He fucking smiled and said that he hoped they died. He wanted them to suffer. He wanted you to suffer, and I was just a bonus.”

Blake laughed, but it was chilling. He suddenly stopped and clenched his jaw.

“I told him that no matter what he said, he wasn’t getting off the plane.” His hands trembled harder. “He said that it was time I grew up…I shot him.”

Blake finally looked at me, and there were tears in his eyes, but something else as well. A deeply rooted rage that I understood because I’d seen the same look in the mirror.

“I put four bullets through that smug bastard’s chest, and I hope each one fucking hurt. I hope he felt the pain he’s caused us.” His chest heaved. “I wanted my face to be the last thing he saw.”

His voice wavered, just for a breath. “But what scares me, Nash…” he whispered. “What really fucking terrifies me is that I don’t regret it. I don’t regret any of them. I’d do it again.”

I didn’t move.

“I thought I’d break down. Thought I’d puke, or scream, or fall to pieces.

But all I feel is this burning in my chest. Like…

like I finally clawed something back from the fear he’d instilled.

But it will never be enough. Not for you, not for my parents, not for the brand on Liam’s arm, or the countless women he’s abused.

There are not enough bullets in this world to make up for all that he’s done. ”

His hand dropped slightly, but he gripped the gun like a lifeline.

“I wanted him dead so badly that I could taste it,” Blake said, and I knew that feeling all too well. “Now he is, and I don’t know if that makes me a monster or a savior, but I don’t care.”

Stepping closer, I gently pressed on his arm. He lowered the gun, and I took it, checking the clip and finding it empty before I tucked it into my jeans. I slowly turned Blake around to face me.

“I wasn’t going to kill him for me,” I said.

“I wanted to kill him, so you didn’t have to.

So, no one else had to suffer with guilt on their hearts and blood on their hands because of this man.

I should be the one to carry this weight.

But I’m happy he’s dead. You’re not a monster.

You did what had to be done. I’ve never given you enough credit for your bravery… I’ll never doubt you again.”

Blake looked away, and his chin quivered, but he didn’t say any more.

I grabbed him and hugged him. Whatever it was that he’d been clinging to, that had allowed him to keep moving, broke away.

He collapsed, knees buckling, but I caught his weight before he hit the floor.

His fists curled into my shirt as he shook in my arms. I felt his breath catch against my neck, every inhale, shuddering like it hurt.

We stayed there, two broken souls surrounded by blood-streaked wealth and gold trim stained with vengeance.

Lawrence had built a kingdom out of manipulation and pain, and now he’d died in the middle of it, choking on the empire he thought he would never lose.

But the real tragedy?

He took something from all of us before he died. And most of all…he took a piece of Blake on the way down.

It should’ve been me.

Happy. Fucking. New Year.