Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
“I n this life, and the next.”
White hot agony rips through me, but it’s the heartbreak in Milo’s eyes just before I close mine that kills me. That look will haunt me longer than any bullet ever could. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Not for us.
Not like this.
There’s a moment, right after the shot, where everything feels... weightless.
Silent.
Like the world has paused just to make space for the pain.
It hits a breath later—sharp and searing, like someone pouring fire into my chest and trying to carve me open from the inside. My lungs seize. I can’t move. Can’t think. Just feel.
Then darkness rushes up to greet me.
And I fall into it.
* * *
I hear my name. So distant it’s barely discernible, like it’s echoing underwater—muted by blood and bone and that thick fog that creeps into the edges of my mind.
Milo.
He’s screaming my name, but it’s like a war cry, a declaration of everything we never said to one another.
I want to answer him, to tell him I’m okay. That he did the right thing. That he had no choice. But my lips won’t move. My body won’t move.
The cold is everywhere now, blooming out from the center of me, swallowing everything in its path like ink bleeding into paper. Everything is numb, but there’s a fire licking at the edges of my lungs—like breathing is something I have to fight for.
And if this is my only challenge, I’ll win. I’ll make sure of it because I know that Milo didn’t shoot to kill. I know that. He couldn’t.
But it hurts like hell, anyway.
There’s blood. A lot of it. I can feel it soaking through my shirt, warmth pooling in the dip of my palm and threading through my fingers. I instinctively try to stop it, to put pressure on it, but I can’t.
My fingers twitch. That’s something. That means I’m still here.
Barely.
A door slams shut. It jars me, rips me out of whatever hell my soul is currently clawing its way through. Not that I believe in that kind of thing. I gave up on having a soul a long time ago. People like me don’t have souls, because that would mean we had a weakness. That would mean we have something to lose, something that could be both our creation and destruction.
The apartment is quiet, so quiet that my breaths are like a drum pounding through the silence.
No, wait.
That’s my pulse. A relentless beat that grows louder the more I listen.
Which means I’m still alive. Still able to fight.
I grit my teeth, swallowing a cry as I will my body to move. My brain slurs the command, like it’s drunk. My arms drag beneath me, every inch a war. My ribs scream, and every breath feels like a punishment.
I blink against the static crawling across my vision, forcing myself to focus.
I’m on the floor, that much is clear from the brutal hardness beneath my body. The couch is to my right, the coffee table to my left. And there, just beyond the growing puddle of blood, is my gun.
The glint of metal is a beacon, one last stretch for hope. My hand scrapes across the floor, fingers inching forward, trembling. I brush the grip. But before I can close my fingers around it, my phone buzzes.
The vibration is agonizing, stabbing into my side like a hot poker. The sound rattles through my bones. “Fuuuck!” I groan out, a strangled sound that claws its way out of my throat. I dig my teeth into my lip, breathing through the agony. My hand fumbles across my chest until I find the phone tucked inside my jacket. My fingers are slick, and it almost slips from my grasp as I drag it out.
The screen lights up, blinding me as I squint at the name. Alanis.
Shit.
It’s her graduation. The one day I swore I wouldn’t miss. I go to answer the phone, but the blood smears across the screen. My visions doubles.
Triples.
Then darkness spills in from nowhere as pain spikes sharp and white, stealing my breath.
And then… nothing.
* * *
M ovement jostles my body. The low hum of tires on pavement, along with the stale scent of air freshener brings me to. The coppery tang of blood stains the air, and all I can taste is warm metal.
My eyelids lift, the bright yellow detailing of the vehicle signifies I’m in a cab, yet I don’t remember getting into one. I’m slumped sideways in the back seat, one hand still pressed weakly against my stomach.
The cab driver glances at me nervously, but he doesn’t say anything. Judging from his silence, I’d say I gave him no choice but to take me. I look around, vision blurring.
“Where are we?” I croak.
“You said the warehouse on 10 th Avenue, right?”
I nod. Or maybe I don’t. It’s hard to tell what my body is doing anymore. All I know is the car slows down, turning a corner before grinding to a halt.
Balloons and banners, half twisting in the breeze when I look outside the window. Decorations line the outside of the warehouse; a building Roman acquired recently to run his fight nights. The glow of string lights tangle through the iron fencing in front, while music spills out from the open doors.
I reach for the door handle, but my hand slips. The second time, I get the door open, falling more than climbing out of the cab. My shoes scrape the pavement, my legs nearly buckling. I don’t even close the door before the driver is speeding off, not caring that I haven’t paid the fare— doubt he’s wanting to leave this day behind him.
Me too.
I wince as I stagger forward, still clutching my stomach. I make my way to the entrance when I spot a familiar face.
Two familiar faces.
“Lani?” I say, voice raspy and dry as I stumble towards her. A haze surrounds my vision, creating two versions of my twin.
“Are you drunk?” she accuses, but her words break off when she sees me. I see her face change, see Haven’s eyes go wide.
My body feels heavier than before, which is surprising considering how much blood has decorated every surface I’ve touched. I still don’t know how I’m conscious right now, but when I lean against my sister, I suddenly feel lighter.
My gaze travels to Haven and relief floods me. Maybe it’s the fact she’s a doctor—or training to be one—or maybe it’s just the thought that I’m not alone. Whatever it is, I barely register Lani’s voice asking me what happened.
And then I’m falling.
I’m suddenly looking up at the darkening sky, my sister’s fear-ridden face coming into view. Her arms are locked around me, trying to brace my head. Her hands tremble, vibrations on my skin that are… relaxing.
“Vee?!” she shouts. “Vee!”
Everything is spinning; the buildings, the sky, me. A numbness seems to ripple through me, like a gentle wave rocking me into nothingness.
“I’m going to get some help!” Haven calls out from somewhere, but my sister’s eyes are on me, unwilling to move.
“I knew something didn’t feel right,” she whispers, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Stay with me, okay?”
Her words are comforting, morbid but loving. “Maybe… we do have twin… telepathy… after all,” I manage, coughing up blood. It splatters across Lani’s arm, but she doesn’t flinch.
“I swear to god,” she growls. “If you fucking die on me, I’ll bring you back and kill you myself.”
“Ha!” I choke. “You’re… funny.”
“Asshole,” she grumbles.
I try to laugh, but my stomach clenches instead. The haze around my vision grows worse, giving my sister a shadowy halo. It’s how I would imagine death to show his face; nothing more than a cloud of chaos.
“I don’t feel so good.”
“It’s okay,” she assures me. “Haven’s gone to get help.”
Help. That’s what I came here for. “But what about Milo?” I need to help him, I need to find him.
“What about Milo?” she whispers, stroking the crease along my forehead. Whether it’s to keep me calm or not, it’s working. But it’s relaxing, and exhaustion seems to engulf me from inside out. I’m not ready to go, not like this. There’s still so much I have to do and I can’t let Milo down. Not after everything.
“He’s my forever.”
* * *
A slow and steady beeping sound burrows into my skull before I even open my eyes. My chest is tight and my mouth feels like sandpaper. Everything is heavy; my arms, my legs, even my eyelids. When I try to move, pain slices through me like a warning.
I’ve never been good at heeding those.
Groaning, I try again.
The smell of antiseptic invades my senses, and there’s a dull throb every time I breathe it in.
A chair scrapes from nearby, before a hand grips my own. “Alvaro?” The voice is soft, familial. Motherly.
“Mom?” I croak. My eyes crack open, bleary and dry. Light floods in so fast that it hurts, stinging worse than my stomach. “Shit,” I rasp, blinking against the blinding white light. ”Where—?” I try moving my head to and focus on something, anything. Shapes start to form, and it’s her face I see first; tear-streaked and pale, but fierce as ever.
“You’re okay.” My mom’s voice is calm. “You’re safe.”
“Define okay.” I lock eyes with my dad, who is standing in the corner. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw clenched like he’s been holding himself together with sheer will.
Roman and Haldon hover near the door, like they don’t know whether to stay or leave.
“I—” My voice comes out hoarse, cracked. I try to sit up, but fire flares through my ribs.
“Don’t,” Mom whispers, pushing me back down gently. “You’ve got stitches. A lot of them.”
“I’m fine” I snap, swatting her hand away. “Let me up!”
“Vee, lay the fuck down!” My dad’s voice booms, commanding my attention.
I still, glaring up at him.
“You were shot,” he grumbles.
“I know.”
“So you’re not going anywhere,” he orders.
It takes a moment for me to relent, slowly lowering myself onto the pillow. I won’t lie, the sudden surge of panicked energy has waned and left me exhausted. My eyelids feel heavy and my body throbs. But all I can think about is Milo. “Where is he?”
“Who, sweetheart?” Mom asks softly.
“Milo.”
“Who’s Milo?” Dad asks, looking from me to my sister, then to my best friends.
“Kyrovsky,” Roman answers, exchanging a glance with my dad. “Works with the Federovs.”
“But he’s also FBI,” Haldon chimes in, stepping forward.
“Is that who did this to you?” Dad glowers. He stands closer to the bed, hands wrapped around the rail by my feet.
“I need to find him!” I grit out.
“You need rest,” Mom says calmly.
“He’s in danger!” I bark, louder than I should. It sends a wave of pain crashing through me, nausea following swiftly after. “The Federovs,” I explain breathlessly. “They came to my apartment. They made him…” I swallow harshly, but before I can get my words out, Alanis is by my side, offering me a weak smile.
“Did he do this to you?” she questions gently.
I nod, though it pains me to do so. To admit that Milo did this. “They made him do it, Lani. And they’ve taken him.”
“Vee,” Roman huffs, coming to stand beside my sister. “He’s a Fed. We gave him a chance and he fucked you over. He fucked all of us over.”
“It’s not like that, Ro, and you know it,” I growl. I hate that I have to defend Milo in front of everyone. I know what happened, I know why he did it, and I need to save him. There’s no telling what the Russians are doing to him right now. That thought is quickly chased by another wave of nausea.
“The Federovs have him. I need to get him back because?—”
“He’s your forever,” Lani says with a smile, giving my hand a squeeze. She glances over at Roman, who’s wearing a confused look on his face. He obviously doesn’t know the conversation between me and my twin—which I’m grateful for—but it only means I have some explaining to do.
“We’ll find him when you’ve recovered,” Dad sighs.
“It’ll be too late,” I mutter.
Alanis grips my cheeks and turns my face towards her. “Alvaro, you’re my brother and I promise you I will find him for you. But you’re in no state to go into a gunfight, okay?” She releases me with a gentle shove, pinning me with a glare framed in fire.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Roman corrects. Turning his attention to me, he lets out a gentle sigh, his icy blue eyes softening. “You really think he’s worth it?”
“I’d take another bullet right now if it meant keeping him safe,” I growl. “So, yeah. I do.”
A tense silence follows, one laced with uncertainty. My uncertainty. Between everyone here, I know my twin has my back. But who else is prepared to fight?
Roman scrubs a hand over his face, groaning. He stares at my sister, probably trying to work out how he can piss her off without actually pissing her off. But it seems like he’s all out of ideas because he turns his attention back on me. “One condition.”
I don’t answer him, purely because I know that anything I agree to will be held over my head for eternity.
“Let me and Haldon handle this,” he demands.
“No,” I snap, already yanking the IV from my arm. It’s too damn restrictive anyway. “I’m going with?—”
“Alvaro!” Dad bellows. “You’ll stay here and recover. Let us find him.”
Us? My brows collide as his words sink in. It takes a moment—because my head is starting to feel fuzzy—but when it registers, I can’t fight the sliver of hope that constricts in my chest. “You’re going to help them?”
Nodding, Dad moves to Mom’s side, bringing his arm around her. “But after this, we’re gonna talk.”