58. Ethan
I hear voices. It’s so tempting just to slip back into unconsciousness, maybe even deeper into oblivion…but Cassidy needs me.
My eyes open just a crack, barely enough for me to make out the two shapes in front of me. Angelo is crouching in front of Cassidy. She’s close enough for me to reach and touch her, but I don’t dare move.
That second blow did some serious damage. Even lying here on the floor, I’m so dizzy I want to puke.
Angelo wasn’t pulling any punches when he slammed that fucking candlestick into my head.
I should be dead.
Angelo drags his knife over Cassidy’s clothing like he’s planning to slice it off.
“Tell me, sweetheart…you ever been fucked with a knife before?”
“No!” I summon every ounce of strength I have to lunge forward and knock the knife out of Angelo’s hand.
A searing pain spears through my head, but I shove it aside with a grunt of determination. This isn’t the time to be a fucking pussy. I throw myself at Angelo, bearing him to the ground.
He lands a knee in my stomach as we’re going down, and I roll off him with an agonized wheeze. I don’t know how much more punishment I can take in this state.
But I slam my arm down, crashing my fist into his balls as he’s reaching for the knife.
Cassidy is mine.
He will not have her.
Will not kill her.
She’s. Mine.
Angelo whimpers and curls into a fetal position. I roll onto my side and stretch out my arm, reaching desperately for the knife I knocked out of his hand.
Cassidy moves in my peripheral vision, tugging furiously at the duct tape on her mouth. Angelo wrapped it all the way around her head, but it looks like she’s made some progress pulling it down her face.
Must hurt like hell.
As she tugs the last of the duct tape off her lips, Angelo’s foot slams onto my hand, crushing it to the grit-lined floor.
Is he possessed by the fucking devil? How the hell is he even standing?
He bends over, snatches the knife off the floor, and presses the tip against the skin under my eye. If I so much as blink too hard, I’ll be wearing an eye patch the rest of my life.
“Ethan!” Cassidy screams.
Angelo whips around to stare at Cassidy with rounded eyes and a slack mouth.
“Shut up, bitch!” Snarling, he lunges forward.
She cringes away, turning with her hands held up, and the blade sinks into her shoulder. Cassidy lets out a muffled scream, slumps, and goes still.
There’s an ear-splitting crack. Like a lightning strike right beside my head.
The bloody knife clatters to the floor.
But it’s too late.
She’s already dead.
I don’t want it to be true, but there’s no other outcome to this fucked up situation I’ve put us all in.
Money is the root of all evil. That saying’s been around for so long because it’s fucking true.
Angelo killed for money. Because I gave up money. And I’d never even have met him, or Becks, or Cassidy, if I hadn’t been chasing money.
If I survive this, then the only place for me would be prison. I have their blood on my hands, whether or not I pulled the trigger.
They’d all still be alive if they’d never met me.
I reach for Cassidy, trying to touch her serene face where it’s pressed to the dirty floor, but Angelo falls on top of my arm.
“Fuck!” I try to pull my arm free, but it’s like he’s purposefully trying to block me from Cassidy. I shove his back, but he simply rocks forward.
I’m so fucking confused. The ground is spongy under me, my head bobbing up and down like I’m floating on a cloud. I struggle to pull my arm free, but it’s only when another set of hands grabs me and drags me away that I can actually get out from under Angelo.
I stare up at Troy with a gaze that keeps slipping in and out of focus.
“We came as soon as we could.”
He releases me, letting me roll onto my back, and I struggle to push up onto my elbow so I can see what the fuck’s going on.
Shoes scrape over the gritty floor, voices muttering to each other, too low for me to make out, until Myles says, “We almost fucking made it.”
Someone—Smith, I think—bends down and then straightens again, Cassidy hanging limply from his arms. Blood trails down her face and splashes on the floor as he turns and walks away.
“No!” I clench my teeth as I force myself to my knees. “Where are you taking…?”
I crash back to the ground, so lightheaded and disorientated that I can’t tell up from down.
Myles crouches beside me and slings an arm around my waist, muttering, “Christ, how much do you weigh?” under his breath as he tries to prop me onto my feet.
Angelo slides over the floor, someone dragging him away.
Because he’s unconscious. Or even fucking better…
“Tell me he’s dead,” I grate out.
“Close enough,” Myles says, patting my pectoral muscle as he guides me to the stairs. “But enough about him. We’ve got to get you the hell out of here in case the cops arrive. With all these dead people and things…it looks just a tad bit incriminating, know what I mean? As it stands, I’m going to have to pull in some big favors to smooth this all out.”
“What?” I croak.
“One foot in front of the other, Ethan. One foot in front of the other.”
I do what he says, but I’m gritting my teeth from the pain in my head.
All these dead people.
Angelo. Becks.
…Cassidy?