14. Karolina
KAROLINA
That night, I lay awake for hours, consumed by guilt over Rich’s death. As soon as I finally drift off, I’m dragged into my worst nightmare.
Carter’s weight pins me beneath him, and blood drips onto my cheeks from his broken nose. His eyes glint with fury and something far more disturbing.
His groping hands imprint bruises on my breasts, taking what he wants from me.
Part of my brain warns me to soften and submit; to let this happen with minimal damage to my body.
But I know Brandon is only minutes behind him. I can’t bear it if the boy I love violates me too.
I strain against Carter’s hold on my wrists, wrenching my torso upright—just enough to allow me to sink my teeth into his neck. I taste copper on my tongue when his skin gives way beneath my vicious bite. My stomach lurches, but I don’t allow the nausea to distract me.
For a precious second, his grip loosens. I wrench my hands free and grab the discarded horseshoe that I was using to break the lock on the trunk where the gun is stored. I smash the aged steel into Carter’s head, putting my full force behind the blow.
He reels back, clutching the side of his head. A crimson stream pours over his fingers. His eyes widen with disbelief, and he drops to the hardpacked dirt floor.
He twitches once, then stops moving. Blood pools around his frozen face and darkens his blond hair. His eyes are open, staring at me without seeing.
A horrified wail fills the tack room, and I don’t recognize that I’m making the anguished sound.
Carter is dead. I killed him.
“Karolina!”
Fear sharpens my mind. Brandon is coming for me. I’m not safe yet.
My heart shreds. I can’t hurt him, no matter what he tries to do to me.
The threat of the gun will have to be enough to keep him at bay.
I force my fingers to grasp the bloody horseshoe and slam it against the damaged lock on the trunk. Wood splinters, and the latch breaks.
I wrench the lid open and grab the shotgun.
My hands have barely gripped the weapon when Brandon bursts into the room. I round on him, brandishing the gun.
“Stay away from me!”
His dark blue eyes go wide, and he comes to a jerky halt several feet away from me. His gaze flicks from me to Carter’s dead body.
“Karolina…” he breathes. “What did you do?”
“What did I do?” I shriek. “What did you do? You were going to share me with him. You told him where to find me.”
Dark brows draw together, and he takes a step toward me.
I lift the gun so the barrel is trained on him.
He growls and lifts a hand to swat it away.
My finger squeezes the trigger. The blast deafens me, and pain lances my shoulder with the force of the shot.
Brandon is on the ground beside Carter.
The gun was loaded.
I didn’t mean to shoot. My finger slipped when he tried to bat the gun away.
“Brandon!” I scream his name, but his only response is a wet cough.
His chest convulses. Half his face is missing, shredded by buckshot. His blue eyes are wide on mine, dark with pain and betrayal.
I stumble back, and the gun drops from my numb fingers.
Brandon’s eyes slide closed, and he stops moving.
Then I become aware of the flickering flames that illuminate the tack room. The kerosene lamp smashed when I was struggling against Carter. Fire licks the aged wooden walls, and smoke clogs the air.
My next breath burns.
I exhale on a rough cough.
I have to get out. I have to survive.
Carter and Brandon are…dead. If I stay here, I’ll die with them.
I lurch out of the tack room, holding my breath. In a matter of seconds, I burst out of the burning stables and into the night air. I gasp for fresh oxygen and keep running.
I sprint through the woods, as though I can outrun what I’ve done.
But nothing can take it back. Nothing can make Bradon whole again. Nothing can make him kiss me and say my name with reverence.
How could he kiss me with those bloody lips? I destroyed the soft mouth that’s claimed mine on so many sweet, forbidden nights in the wilderness.
I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.
I repeat the pathetic excuse to myself over and over, but nothing will ever assuage my guilt. I’m a murderer.
My bloody hands will never be clean again.
Brandon’s ruined face fills my mind.
“You did this to me.” His jaw flashes white bone around the accusation. “I’m dead because of you.”
His gory features morph into Rich’s face. The gaping slash across his neck is a sickening mirror of his boyish smile.
“I’m dead because of you.”
Their voices merge into one terrible truth.
I choke on a sob, and I claw my way back to consciousness. My pillow is wet with my tears, and my sheets are damp from sweat.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the darkness. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.”