Chapter 29 #2
The two of us collide like forces of nature meeting. His fist connects with my jaw, and the impact jars my teeth, sending sparks across my vision, whereas I drive my knuckles into his gut, feeling the satisfying give of soft tissue beneath the fat as he upchucks all over himself.
He's one of the few men who can actually hurt me. One of the few who's strong enough, vicious enough, desperate enough to pose a real threat. With the same eyes as mine, and the same echo strength.
And I’m one of the few who can take him on like this. We have both nearly killed each other before; some of the deepest scars on my body are from him.
His elbow cracks against my temple, and my knee finds his thigh, buckling his stance. The smoke swirls around us, making everything feel dreamlike, unreal.
Then I feel the blade.
It punches into my side, sliding between my ribs with a wet, terrible ease. The pain blooms a half-second later—white-hot, vicious, spreading through my torso in waves.
I don't stop moving. It’s not deep enough. The leather stopped it from going deeper.
My hand closes around his wrist, the hand holding the knife still buried in my flesh, and I use the leverage to spin us, to reverse our positions.
In the smoke, my mind’s eye sees Diana, and then I see this man’s ugly face, and I’m desperate to ensure she never has to see these eyes.
It fills my body with rage, my hand rising as I lift my body weight before punching him so hard in the chest his ribs break, caving it in.
Right over his heart.
His eyes go wide. His mouth opens, but only blood comes out.
I lean in close, so close I can see my reflection in his shocked eyes.
"Fuck you," I spit, the words carrying all the weight of years of conflict, all the omegas he's broken, all the lives he's destroyed. “And yeah, I do have an omega. You will never touch her.”
Just as I push down on his heart again to crush the organ, blood seeps through my fingers, warm and relentless. My vision pulses at the edges, and he starts to laugh, as if he’s aware that I’m aware, before the life in his eyes fades.
I glance down at my side to see a white hilt—oh, shit. I recognize it immediately as one of the signature blades of the Maw that is used for poison.
What a fucking pussy ass bitch to use poison on me.
I fall to my knees, my heart skipping a beat as I feel something coursing in my veins.
This shit works fast, too. Such a coward’s weapon.
My eyes widen when I see a small, blonde omega with thin facial features where she should not be.
Why isn’t she with Drake? Did something happen to the others?
A male spots her, armed, and moving with deadly intent.
"Fuck," I breathe.
Beast.
I don't hesitate as I recall the pact I made with him that I’d personally ensure Mira’s safety, as long as he promised to ensure Diana’s safety if something happened to me.
I cut across the field at a dead sprint, ignoring the fire in my side, the way my legs are starting to feel distant and numb. The man reaches her just as I arrive, his arm snapping out, fingers closing around her collar. She makes a sound—sharp, broken, not even a scream.
I hit him from the side with everything I have left.
The impact jars my teeth, sending fresh agony ripping through my body as my joints ache now from the poison. He goes down hard, but his blade comes up as he falls. I feel it bite into my shoulder, another hot punch of pain to add to the collection.
I tear him off her anyway.
My hand closes around his throat. I don't squeeze—I rip. There's a wet crack, a gurgle, and then I fall off of him, not even sure if he’s dead or not.
I feel fear, my body not working like I need it to.
Mira drops to her knees next to me.
She's shaking so hard her teeth are clicking together, a rapid staccato rhythm. Her eyes are huge, unfocused, darting everywhere like she's trapped in a nightmare she can't wake from. Her mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out. Just air. Just silence where screams should be.
"Mira!” I yell. "Why are you not with Drake? You need to be with her! That was the deal.”
Her gaze finally flickers to mine. Recognition slowly hits like she's swimming up from deep water, followed immediately by terror when she sees the blood coating my hand.
"No—no—" she tries, her voice breaking, cracking, coming out in pieces. She shakes her head as if to focus. “I broke away from Drake. I saw… I saw the fang in Titan’s back pocket,” she says, and I know she means the poisoned blade. “I know where they keep the antidotes on their bodies.” She puts a hand on her chest, and it’s as if she can’t get the words out. “I’m from there, remember?”
I hardly hear what the fuck she just said, and shove a small weapon into her shaking hands, one of the blades from the man I apparently did kill. “Then tell Drake! Get out of this fucking mess. You don't stop for anything!”
“She’s protecting the others,” she stutters out.
“I just acted. I’m so sorry.” There’s a semblance of recognition in her eyes, and she nods as she backs away.
She scrambles away, half-running, half-crawling, her heat signature fading into the smoke until it vanishes entirely. “Let me get one for you!”
Fuck.
I can’t get up off my back.
My vision pulses. A faint ringing creeps in at the edges of my hearing.
"Alright," I mutter to myself. "Alright."
The battlefield is still chaotic, but it's shifting now as the smoke slightly lifts. Blood not only drains from my veins, but from my head as I see, in the distance, reinforcements coming over the ridge from Titan’s side.
No.
"EVACUATE!" I roar, the command tearing from my throat.
My people respond instantly, training overriding instinct. They fall back in organized waves, covering one another as they move toward the extraction points.
I knew this might happen. Knew that even if I killed Titan, his men would scatter or attack—just as mine would do the same if our situations were reversed. Loyalty cuts both ways, and Titan, for all his cruelty, commanded devotion from those who served him.
Diana.
The thought of her cuts through the haze, bright and sharp. Diana, waiting for me. Diana, trusting me to come home.
I have to survive this.
I drag myself behind a chunk of concrete, putting solid cover between me and the incoming forces.
I lean back against it, breathing shallow.
The poison is spreading faster now. I can feel it in my chest, a tightness that has nothing to do with the wound.
My heartbeat is too fast, then too slow, then too fast again.
A few of my own come for me, lifting me. “It’s fang poison,” I reply, slightly slurred.
“It’s already killed like five of us,” one grunts.
“If someone didn’t get Titan’s head—”
“We already grabbed it. It’ll get preserved. Don’t worry.”
“Then we just get the fuck out of here,” I say, looking back and realizing if we don’t grab an antidote… “I need the antidote. Where is Drake?” I don’t like this foreign sensation of panic. “I need it.” My eyes widen. “Someone needs to get the blonde… omega,” I say, running out of breath.
The ground starts to shake.
At first, I think it's Titan’s men, maybe more of them. The vibration grows deep and rhythmic, rolling through the earth like the heartbeat of something massive approaching, as they help me forward as best they can.
One of my men laughs, a sharp, disbelieving sound that contrasts with the world. “You've got to be kidding me."
Through the thinning smoke, dark shapes emerge in the distance. Massive and unstoppable.
Tanks.
Real tanks. Old-world steel patched and welded and repainted, their treads churning dirt and debris, their cannons swiveling with mechanical precision. My vision blurs.
The first shell hits Titan's reinforcements and turns the front line into an explosion of dirt. The shockwave slams into me even from behind cover, knocking the air from my lungs, making my ears ring.
My mind slowly pulls away from here, and I feel something else settle into my chest. Stillness, maybe.
Completion.
Titan is dead. Dominion is safe, at least for now.
I tip my head back and stare up at the ruined sky, watching the smoke peel away to reveal pale blue beyond. The sun is there, somewhere, trying to break through the haze.
A stupid smile tugs at my mouth—small, crooked, real.
And somewhere far away, through the bond stretched thin but unbroken, I swear I feel her. Diana. She's there, on the other end of that golden thread, and even across the miles I can sense her worry, her fear, the desperate hope that I'm still breathing.
I start to fade out as I hear others approach me. Strong hands lift me. Someone is shouting about the poison, about the wound, about how much blood I've probably lost. Someone else is answering, their voice calm, professional. I swear I hear Mira, too. For a mute, she’s sure as shit talking a lot.
The last thing I see before consciousness slips away is the sky—blue and wide and impossibly peaceful above the wreckage.
Well, it’s good to know dying is more peaceful than I ever imagined. Especially, in my mind’s eye, I can see Diana’s perfect face, her soft hair gently billowing like it might be summer, her eyes bright and happy, and we’re under the oak tree…