Page 72 of When We Fall: Part Two

“W-What?”

“She was shot. She was dying. She-she might be dead,” his voice cracked. “There was so much blood.”

“No,” I wept, something breaking apart inside me. “She’s not. She wouldn’t.”

“She has to be. I couldn’t save her,” he said through his soft sobs. “I should have left. I should have fucking run away with her. Now she’s gone. My baby is gone.”

“She’s not, Fox. She’s not. I know she’s not.” I clung to him harder, making him gasp. I knew he was in pain, but I was going to fucking lose it in here. We had to get out. We had to get to her.

“How do you know?” He rested his forehead against mine.

“Because. My heart tells me she’s alive. That she wouldn’t leave us. My heart knows.”

His jaw quivered as he tried to hold back a sob.

“OK. I believe you. I believe you, E.”

“Don’t forget. Please. We need to get out of here and go to her. To Cole and Enzo.”

He nodded. “We do. We will.”

I sobbed softly with him, both of us clinging to one another. I had no idea how long we’d been in here, but judging by the factthey’d taken the time to dig the bullet out of Fox’s shoulder, I’d say at least a day or two.

That was not a good thing.

The conceptof time left me. I couldn’t even tell when it left, since time didn’t exist in the windowless cell we were kept in.

It had to be days. Water and food were slipped through a slot in the door, but we both knew better than to eat the meat that was served to us.

We drank the water, though. I knew we were being drugged. I had a fuzzy head after every gulp of the liquid, but without hydration, we’d die unless we wanted to drink out of the toilet in the corner of the room.

And fuck, I wanted to end this shit before it began because I knew Everett’s games. This was the psychological warfare he waged before the actual battle.

Fox had stopped talking. He just cried with me and held me. We were both losing our minds. I’d had three major panic attacks he’d held me through.

And I’d held him through his.

“What day do you think it is?” I whispered through the flickering light as someone screamed down the hallway. They did that like clockwork. Sometimes it would set the others off. It always made me curl into a tight ball against Fox. He’d hold me and sing songs to me to drown out the screams. Pretty songs. Songs I was sure he’d written with Rosalie.

“I don’t know,” he rasped weakly. “Maybe Monday. Tuesday.”

I nodded. That was my estimate, too. We’d been here over a week, locked in hell.

I slid closer to him, and he wrapped his good arm around me. I felt like that scared little boy again.

“We’re OK, E,” he whispered. “We’re going to be OK. Someone will come.”

“I-I believe you, but I’m so scared. I-I can’t do this. I’m going to lose my mind.” I cried softly.

“Shh. It’s OK.” He kissed the top of my head fiercely. “We’ll go home to Cole. He’ll have a cake waiting for us. We’ll make love to Rosalie. Enzo will be with us. It’ll be the best night of our lives.”

“P-Promise?”

“Swear it, brother. I will do whatever it takes to make it happen. You’re going to make it home, E.”

The creaking of the door opening had me scooting practically onto Fox’s lap. That door hadn’t opened since we got here. I was weak and shaky, and Fox was worse, having had no food and a gunshot wound to his shoulder.

I didn’t even want to think about how it was his throwing arm, and he couldn’t even lift the damn thing. The saving grace was that at least it appeared they’d dug the bullet out of him and dressed it.