Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
AUbrEY
It wasn’t Phoenix that I was seeing when the explosive the raider threw landed and the force of it sent him flying back. It wasn’t Phoenix that I saw when the rabid they’d let loose on us started to swarm.
At least, it wasn’t just Phoenix.
I was seeing double—the ghost of a man I’d thought I’d never see again, the soft blue eyes of Bishop looking at me with one last smile before he threw himself into an entire horde of rabid to keep me safe.
And there was Phoenix, looking at me with a furious scowl as he grabbed me by the shoulder and put himself between me and the danger, trying to do the same.
There was Phoenix, lying as still and quiet on the ground as I’m sure Bishop had after he’d tried to take everything on alone to make sure that I didn’t die .
I was seeing a perfect play of what had probably happened to him right in front of me.
Only this time, I was awake.
This time, I could move.
And this time, I could do something.
My entire body felt numb as a quiet rage roared to life inside me. I usually only felt this brutal when storms rolled in, when I got caught inside trying to hide from the red rain.
I was vicious then, angry and wanting to tear things apart.
And I felt that same level of violence now as I picked up one of the long machetes from the fallen raiders and charged forward into the group that was swarming Phoenix.
I think it was the snarl that tore from my throat more than anything that caught their attention, and I was honestly lucky that they’d only let four of them loose.
It was easy with the long reach of my new weapon to take off two of their heads before they touched me.
Even though I felt angry nails digging into my arm, I still turned on the third, cutting into it with enough strength to detach the limb before it could tear me open.
It gave me room to shove the rabid together, and the fury that spiked across their features as they started to tear into one another left me room to finish them off.
It wasn’t really the rabid I was looking for anyway.
Phoenix had fallen behind the stage, and my eyes were all for the three men left above us.
The bastards who’d hurt him.
I took off at a run toward the stairs, and ignored the sensation of a bullet grazing my arm. My own gun was like an extension of my hand when I dropped the blade I’d been carrying and pulled it.
One shot, and the man shooting at me went to the ground.
Another and the one trying to run followed him.
They were clean shots.
They were meant to kill.
But the last one…
The one who was scrambling in their supplies. The one who’d thrown the fucking explosive…
I didn’t want it to be clean.
I didn’t want…
I could still see them.
I could see them both lying there on the ground.
Phoenix and Bishop swirling together like ghosts.
Still because of me.
Still and hurt and…
“Fuck,” I snarled, and this time my shot took him in the hand—the same one that had thrown the explosive to begin with.
The center of his palm exploded in a wash of blood and bone, and the scream that tore from his throat was pitiful.
A whining, high-pitched thing that told me he was too fucking pathetic to be the kind of man who hurt someone like Phoenix.
Phoenix didn’t get hurt.
Phoenix was all strength and power, raw and real and too fucking strong for the world to touch him.
Too strong to be taken away from me, and I…
I didn’t realize I’d grabbed the man by his ruined hand and pinned him beneath me until the sound of his pleading rose above the roaring in my ears.
I did realize it didn’t matter when I flipped my gun in my hand and started smashing his face in with the back of it.
Once, and his nose exploded in a wash of fluid.
Twice, and the skin above his brow split wide as he started to scream.
And again.
And again.
Again, until he was a keening, crying mess of blood and snot, vomit and bone beneath me. And then again, when he opened his mouth and tried to cry out.
I beat the man to death, and the entire time I did I was seeing blue eyes… Bishop’s blue eyes… ocean eyes… I wasn’t sure which man I was killing him for trying to take from me.
I didn’t know.
It didn’t matter.
My gun was slippery with blood by the time I turned it and unloaded three shots into his broken face for good measure.
I was shaking when I stood, and the silence in the theater was deafening. There were no more rabid beating on doors, as far as I could tell.
No more raiders.
A quick sweep of the area confirmed it… and I realized I couldn’t avoid what was below me forever.
I had to climb down.
I had to go to him, but I was afraid to look.
Even from a distance, I could see the ghost image of Bishop lying there beside him, hurt because of me. Hurt protecting me. Dead because of me.
“I’m not worth it.” The words tore from my chest as I fell to my knees beside Phoenix.
I’d fallen by the wet spot of blood and thicker things where Bishop had been torn apart that day he’d died to save me. It was different now—I could drop my ear to Phoenix’s chest, could listen desperately for the sound of his heart still beating like I hadn’t been able to then.
It was there—thick and steady. Thrumming. Pounding.
Real.
“Fuck,” I gasped, suddenly incapable of drawing a deep enough breath to fill my burning lungs. It wasn’t the injuries I’d sustained—those didn’t matter, I’d feel them later—it was panic, pain, the past and the present colliding and trying to tear me apart.
It was Phoenix lying there, pale beneath his paint. Pale because he’d risked his life to save me.
“Fuck.” I said the word again, brushing my fingers carefully across his face. He’d taken the worst damage to his stomach, and thankfully it had been from humans and not rabids. It was better in some ways, worse in others.
I was great at healing my own damage.
I was only okay at tending to others. I’d learned the basics from the Order, and the bag I’d flung off my shoulder at the doorway before I came in shooting had medication in it that could speed along healing, but most of the supplies I’d gathered were back in our room.
Our room…
Our …
“Fuck…” The world around me started to spin. The small task of drawing in enough air to keep myself upright suddenly became the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. My body felt like it was going numb from shock, from…
PTSD.
The word flitted through my head.
Trauma.
I’d been through a lot—probably more than I should have been able to pull myself back from. I honestly attributed my ability to cope to the fact I’d been doing it since I was so small. I’d been beaten and thrust into survival mode, and I’d always managed to get through it without falling apart.
Until now.
Seeing Phoenix on the ground, seeing the ghost of Bishop overlayed on his features, was almost more than my mind could take.
I gasped, and it was a pained sound.
I gasped again, and I felt my body collapse over his. The only thing I could manage was to press my palms over the worst of his injuries to staunch the bleeding as I lay on top of him and shivered and tried to breathe.
I couldn’t stop it.
I didn’t know if I was going to be able to stop it.
I didn’t know how long I stayed there, splayed across his chest and trying to steady myself to the sound of his heart and the warmth of his blood before his hand came up.
It was weak as it drifted across my back, and the ghost sensation made me jump.
Shock made me reach for my gun, because I hadn’t expected him to be able to touch me .
He’d been so still beneath me, like he was slipping away.
Like Bishop had slipped away while I wasn’t awake to touch him, to see him. While I’d been too dead to the world to even say goodbye.
“Need… get down. Move.” His voice was strained, but he drew in a strong, clear breath and managed more words. “Fucking move, Aubrey. Before… they come… ba…” I searched his face as he drew in another pained inhalation, and his blue eyes narrowed. Locked onto me as he mouthed a word.
Mine.
His lids fluttered shut again, and the numbness that had been flooding me and keeping me paralyzed dissipated enough for me to realize that he had a point.
He didn’t know that I’d taken them all out, and I had no idea if they had backup coming.
I was starting to feel the pain that ripped through my body—the cuts and bullet wounds I’d gotten that needed medical attention.
And I could see the blood oozing from Phoenix’s chest, just a little darker than it should have been—carrier blood.
Blood like mine.
“Hang on,” I said, so soft I wasn’t sure he heard me.
“I’ll get us out of here. Phoenix, please.
” I choked on his name, choked on the emotion surging through me.
It had to be because I’d seen Bishop lying there before.
It couldn’t be for him . “Just… hang on.” My hands trembled for a moment before I finally managed to pull my first deep breath. “I’ve got you. I’ll fix this.”
It was easier to say than do. I didn’t know how to get him out of here.
He was big, and we were both hurt. At least it looked like the raiders I’d killed had been staying here for a few days.
Maybe there was something I could use. I forced myself to take another deep breath, to calm down. I had to calm down.
I couldn’t get us out of here until he was better, and I needed to get us somewhere secure so I could see how hurt he really was. I took enough time to grab my bag and wrap the few bandages I had around Phoenix’s wounds before I got to work.
It only took fifteen minutes to scout the building and make sure it was secure.
It looked like they’d found the storage area and turned it into their base.
In the corner, they had their supplies piled up.
I didn’t have to look too hard to see the Order logo on the dirty canvas.
They really had gotten an entire stash of supplies.
It made sense that they’d had explosives to throw at us.