Chapter Twenty-Six #2
Aaron was kicking uselessly, weakly. Dying. Raegan veered in front of me, blocking my view, but I heard every sickening squelch, every bone cracking. It took all of the will in me not to spew my guts over the floor as soon as both the gags were removed.
“Are you alright?” she asked, and I nodded, but changed my mind and shook my head. She seemed to understand. “Hang tight. I’ll untie you.”
The ropes slipped off, and with her encouragement, I tried to stand, but at the same moment, a tidal wave of berserk sensation punched into me, knocking me to my knees.
Caine’s emotions blended with mine again.
The serum had worn off. I could feel the mate bond thumping away in my chest, and for a split second, I was comforted, at ease, but . . .
Caine had paused, hunching forward, his bloodied hands propped at either side of his brother’s battered head. He was frantic, spiralling out of control.
“Caine,” I called out, my voice a broken whisper.
He blinked out of his vicious trance at the sound of my voice, gazing over and remembering I was here. He was . . . ashamed. “Get him out of here,” he barked at Raegan as he forced himself to his feet. “He shouldn’t be seeing this.”
Raegan’s hand was around my upper arm, urging me toward the door, but I wrenched out of her grip. “Come with me,” I pleaded, hating how my words shook, and he hesitated. “Please?”
The emotions warring inside him were devastating, too turbulent to comprehend. I tried to soothe them with mine, even though they weren’t much calmer. I would’ve showered him with a gale of placating pheromones to tranquilize the worst of it, if only I could muster the capability to do so.
He staggered toward me, and relief encouraged a smile on to my face. I reached out, offering my palm to him, prepared to be his anchor as he would be mine. But there was movement in my periphery—Aaron’s shaking finger curled around the trigger of the gun. It was aimed at me.
I locked up. “Caine . . .”
He followed my eyeline, and a spark of alarm splintered through the bond.
The shot rang out.
Raegan’s arms were around me in an instant, dragging me to the ground. My senses were in shambles, my vision distorted with an underwater blur, my hearing a muffled din of chaos. There was heat pooling in my stomach, wet and expanding.
The pain hit. Sharp and excruciating, it hurtled me back into focus. I whimpered, clutching at my waist, but lifting my fingers away, no blood coated them.
Dread swelled in me. I glanced up.
Caine was on his knees, a barrier between the threat and me.
A fresh bloom of crimson soaked through the front of his shirt, trickling from the corner of his mouth.
It was as if the universe—my universe—was suspended in time, a silent movie unfolding at the speed of syrup.
I used his pain as momentum, bolting forward as he keeled backward.
I caught his head in my hands before it hit the floor, and a torrent of panic, rage, distress, everything, invaded me at once.
What do I do?
He coughed, his face warping with agony, and it wasn’t until I heard another distinctive click that I saw red.
I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. It was pure impulse, reaching into my belt and dislodging the knife.
My mind was fixated, instinct my advocate, narrowing the world down to a raving chant: protect, protect, protect.
I’d never known my body to move so quickly, didn’t realize I truly had the grit to bound onto Aaron’s chest and plunge the blade into his lying throat, tearing through the skin, baring the tendons and arteries. The spray of blood bolstered my wrath.
“Fucking die,” I snarled in his face, defending Minnie and Caine my sole incentive. “You won’t take my family from me. You fucking won’t. They’re mine!”
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Those sickeningly arrogant green eyes finally lost their living shine. He was dead. The threat was neutralised. My chest heaved with exertion, the haze gradually dissolving. I heard a voice, a familiar gruff cadence calling out to me, coaxing me back from the void.
“Dylan,” Caine rasped, the tone rough and oddly fond. I could feel it, his fondness, his respect, his pride. His undying love. “Come here, my darling.”
The knife clattered to the ground, and I dashed to his side. Raegan was there, her hands compressing the wound. She had a grave look on her face—her blurred face.
Tears streamed down my cheeks.
When did I start crying?
“Caine,” I mumbled, cradling his hand as he extended it toward me.
I rested my face in his palm, the blood warm and tacky against my skin.
His fingers were cold. “You’re going to be okay.
” I sniffed, closing my eyes because I couldn’t bear to watch his closing, couldn’t bear to see what expression might be his last. “You have to be.”
“Look at me,” he commanded, and with a composing breath, I obeyed. His face was its usual slate, but his gaze . . . his fucking gaze told me I was his everything. That if he were to die today, then right here, beside me, was exactly where he wanted to be.
“Don’t do it.”
The thumb grazing my cheek was gentle. Adoring. “My feisty little mate.”
His eye drifted shut, his arm falling limp in my hold.
Gut-wrenching sobs hacked from my throat. His bond flickered like a candle in my chest. Faint. Fading. I lowered his arm to lean over him, bracing my forehead against his. “Don’t you dare leave me,” I demanded wetly. “Do you hear me? I can’t . . . I can’t do this again. I can’t lose you too.”
When would I learn? When would it be enough? I’d let myself fall, knowing there was a chance he’d be taken from me, but hoping this time might be different.
It wasn’t.
This was what happened when I loved.