CHAPTER 14
IRIS
Running, I seem to keep doing that lately.
My heels hit the pavement hard and I don't slow down, I cut down a side street, then another, weaving through people who jump out of my way when they see my face.
I must look insane, running in the crowd with tears and snot mixing together on my chin, but I don't care.
I don't care about anything except putting distance between me and ilay.
I stumble into the alley and the moment I’m alone, my knees buckle.
The wall catches me as I drop, sliding down until I’m sitting in dirt and old rainwater.
I don’t even care. I fold in on myself, hands over my face, and the sobs break loose.
They come deep and violent, shaking my whole body.
I cry until I’m empty, until everything inside me feels scraped raw.
All I can think about is what just happened.
He shot my friend right in front of me like it was nothing, like pulling that trigger cost him absolutely nothing at all.
And then he had the nerve to order me around.
Move behind me. Now. Like I'm just another one of his soldiers.
Like I don't get a say in any of this. Is this how I’ll be treated if I say yes to being his?
like some property he can move and order around?
I'm so angry I can barely see straight. Heavy footsteps tap down the alley, and i know it’s him before I even look up. "Leave," I choke out. Nothing. He makes no move to go when I ask him to. "I said to FUCKING LEAVE!" My voice cracks and I hate how weak I sound.
Still nothing, not even a hesitant step back. Well, if he won’t leave, I will. I shove myself to my feet and spin around. "Get the hell away from me!"
He stands, watching me with a calm expression that makes me want to scream, why is he calm?
, why is he fucking calm!?. "What, you're just going to stand there?
" I try for a reaction. "Make me look crazy yelling at nothing?
" His voice comes out low, trying to calm me down.
"You need to breathe. You're spiraling. Your body's in fight or flight right now. "
I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "And whose fault is that?
Every single day since I met you has been chaos.
Danger. Fear. And today you crossed a line you can't come back from.
You hurt someone I cared about." Hot liquid spills down my face, but I don't care.
"So don't you dare tell me to breathe when you're the reason I can't."
He gives no response, and I’m not surprised. I can’t expect him to care about what his actions do and how it affects me, or the people around me. "You want me calm? Then disappear. I'm done. Done with your cases, your games, your blood money. Keep it all. Just stay the hell out of my life."
I turn and walk out of the alley, swaying from stress.
Behind me, I hear a long and heavy exhale.
I keep walking. I'm almost at the street when two loud gunshots crack through the air, echoing off the brick walls around me.
I freeze. My heart slams into my throat and I spin around, scanning the alley.
Did someone follow us? Did one of his enemies find him?
Is there a shooter somewhere I can't see?
I brace myself for the next shot, for someone yelling, for anything that tells me what's happening. But the alley goes dead still. "Ilay?" I call out panicking. I don’t get a response.
I take a step back toward the alley. Then another. My brain is screaming at me to run the other direction, to get away, to call for help. But my feet won't listen.
"Ilay!" still nothing. I break into a run, rounding the corner back into the alley, and that's when I see him. He’s kneeling in the dirt, swaying slightly, his gun limp in his hand.
Smoke drifts from the barrel, curling upward in the cold air, from the angle the guns pointed at, I can already deduce he pulled the trigger and was already planning on taking a third shot.
So much blood, spreading across his shirt, blooming from both of his shoulders like dark wet flowers.
He sees me and a smile blooms on his pale features.
"What the fuck?" The words tear out of me as I rush forward and drop to my knees in front of him. "What did you do? What the fuck did you just do?"
He looks up at me, his face pale, his eyes glassy with pain but still so focused on me. "You said I hurt you."
"So you shot yourself?" I scream, my hands hovering over his wounds, not knowing where to press, where to touch, or how to stop the bleeding. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"
"Fair trade." He tries to smile and it's the most unsettling thing I've ever seen. "You were in pain because of me. Now I'm in pain because of me. We're even."
"That's not how this works! That's not how any of this works!" I finally press my hands against his left shoulder and he hisses through his teeth but doesn't pull away. "Why would you do this? Why?"
"Because you were leaving." His voice comes out strained. "And I needed you to come back."
I stare at him, tears streaming down my face, completely unable to comprehend the man in front of me. He shot himself. Twice. Just to make me turn around. Just to keep me from walking away.
"You're a mad man," I whisper.
"I know baby." He reaches up with a bloody hand and touches my cheek, leaving a red smear across my skin. "But this? This is nothing, Iris. This pain right here is nothing compared to watching you leave me. I would put a bullet through every part of my body if it meant you'd stay."
"Stop talking, you manipulative sadistic bastard." I'm sob, pressing harder against his wounds. "Just stop. You need to save your strength. Where are your men? Where the hell are they?"
As if on cue, footsteps pound into the alley. His guards appear with their guns drawn, ready for a fight, and then they see us. They see their boss on his knees, bleeding out, and me crying over him with blood all over my hands. Their faces go white.
"Hospital," I choke out. "Get him to a hospital.
Right now. He shot himself on both shoulders.
I don't know how bad it is. But lets Go!
" They move fast, holstering their weapons and lifting him carefully between them.
One of them is already on the phone, barking orders.
Ilay doesn't fight them. He just keeps his eyes locked on me, reaching for my hand as they carry him away.
"I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm so sorry. Please don't leave. I'm sorry.
Please. I'll do anything. Just don't leave me, I’ll listen to you.
" I follow them out of the alley, my hands covered in his blood.
I press my palms against his chest as they load him into the car, trying to keep pressure on the wounds, trying to do anything useful even though I feel completely helpless.
"Stop apologizing and stay awake," I tell him, my voice cracking.
"You hear me? Stay awake. Don't you dare close your eyes.
" He looks up at me from the backseat barely conscious, and smiles.
"You came back," he murmurs. "I knew you would. "
And I hate him for it. I hate him for being right. I hate him for knowing exactly what buttons to push, for being so broken and so obsessive that he'd put bullets in his own body just to keep me close. But I hate myself more. Because even now, even after everything, I'm not letting go of his hand.