Chapter 28. #2
He’s bleeding so much.
His heartbeat is slowing.
What do I do what do I do—?
There's no way he'll survive.
That realization chokes me up.
I hear Baal on the phone behind me, maybe calling a doctor.
But Tobias and Gabriel's expressions are grim, and I can't see Xavier from here but I know he's there. I know he's watching.
And they're letting me have my time.
They're giving me these last few moments.
But that doesn't make sense…
Last night, you said you loved me. Just last night you made my heart so full while breaking it all at once. You don't even remember it because you're so fucking cruel.
“Don't… be sad…” Christian’s broken voice is like a clear, sharp bell through my frozen panic. “This… will end it.”
A broken sound escapes me.
It feels like agony. My vision is blurring.
“You can't end it on your fucking own.” My voice carries in my ears as I hold him flush against me, dragging a hand through his hair. “What about me, baby, what about me? You promised you’d try.”
Fear is tightening its grip around my throat. My pulse is so loud in my ears, it feels like my heart’s about to rip out of my fucking chest.
“I will,” he whispers. “I’ll… show you. Hide… my body… Six hours.”
“Don't do this.” You’re the only one who could reduce me to begging. “Please don’t do this. Please don’t do this,” I’ve switched to Japanese for the first time in my life because maybe Baachan’s spirits will help me.
“Remember… superpower.”
The world is even blurrier.
What is he saying?
He’s not making sense.
Superpower.
Hide the body.
Six hours.
“Christian, please, please don’t do this—”
‘Don't… tell anyone,’ his last words are barely a whisper before his heart stops beating.
And I think mine does too.
My thoughts are mute.
The world is quiet.
Christian isn’t breathing.
His body is getting colder.
Someone touches me.
Someone’s trying to tell me something.
I can’t move.
I can’t.
I’m holding Christian so tightly, even if his heart was beating I would’ve stolen the air from his lungs.
My vision remains a blur, but I can’t feel my tears. I can’t feel anything.
It’s like a black hole opening up inside me… and all my agony collides into an intense bloodlust.
It leaks from me so sharply—so suddenly. It’s like a curse that makes the air tremble, that makes the world become quiet.
I’ll destroy everything.
I’ll burn the entire city to the ground.
If Christian is gone, then everything else can go—
My bloodlust stutters with a new thought, and the seconds move more slowly.
No.
What did Christian say?
Six hours.
Hide the body.
Superpower.
Christian survived a lot of things.
Christian should’ve been dead many times over.
We both do and see things that don't make any sense.
The darkness that was leaking out of me reels back in—sucked back into my body as though a seal was slapped on the curse. The bloodlust. The agony.
Six hours.
Hide the body.
Superpower.
Maybe I’ve lost my mind…
‘I’ll… show you.’ I remember his words… but his body is cold and limp in my arms.
What am I really thinking?
That his heart will start beating again?
That his body will get warmer?
But his words are echoing in my head. Instructions.
He gave me instructions.
I don’t care if it’s crazy.
I don’t care how he does it.
I’m still holding him tightly when I stand.
I refuse to let him go.
“Reuben.” Someone’s voice finally trickles through. Baal.
“Reuben, give him to me.”
“No.” I walk past him without a word. I’m chanting the instructions in my head.
“Reuben, he’s not breathing.”
“… No.”
The rest of the team only watches.
Even Xavier stands to one side, lips tightened into a thin line.
How is it that even they know me better than my own brother?
Baal steps in front of me and I growl so viciously, Baal’s eyes widen barely a fraction, before he steels himself and holds his ground.
“Where are you taking him?”
What concern is it of yours, what I do with what’s mine?
Christian belongs to me.
“Get.” My words bite the air as I step forward. “Out. Of my way.”
The darkness inside me leaks out, and I see the fear in Baal’s eyes. The fear he tries to hide behind a steeled expression.
Your energy betrays you, big brother.
You should be very afraid of me.
He steps out of the way, letting me through, and I walk away, still clutching Christian’s body.
It’s fine if I’ve lost my mind.
It’s fine if everyone is afraid.
They have six hours.
Or this city will have a bigger monster on its hands than the Harvester.
I take Christian to the hotel suite.
It seems fitting to me, to hide him there. In the place we could almost call ours.
After Evelyn’s death, I’d come here just so I could watch the memories play out in my head.
So I could see the ghost of him in the kitchen, or fast asleep on the couch.
So I could open my eyes in the morning and pretend he’s right there beside me, buried in my shirt, and looking up at me with sleep-filled blue eyes.
He left me out in the cold for so many days… it was the only place I felt… close to him again.
I get there within an hour, and the moment I lay him down on the bed, I have a doctor ready to mend his body.
I’d told him to meet me there—for the staff to send him straight up without any questions.
When he realized Christian’s heart stopped beating, he looked at me like I was crazy…
Like I’d lost my mind.
But the promise of a bullet through his skull and he knew to shut up and follow my orders.
He stitches all the wounds that are too deep and casts Christian’s broken arm. Even though he’s stopped bleeding, I still bandage all his wounds, even apply ointment to them just in case, and the doctor is quiet as he watches.
I can see the horror in his energy as I work. He’s uneasy. Uncomfortable.
There’s a bit of pity there as well…
But he doesn’t get to be much of any of those things for long.
Because I put a bullet in his head.
I’m not in the state of mind to feel bad about it.
Baal noticed Christian stopped breathing, but if Christian comes back we could play it off as a miracle. No one would be able to say not.
Except the doctor.
The doctor would know it’s bullshit immediately.
The hours go by so slowly, I could be convinced the world was fucking with me.
With every second, the doubt and agony in my chest attempt to break free.
What if Christian’s really gone?
What do I do then?
“… You can’t be gone.” I thread my hand through his fingers. They’re cold. His lips are blue.
His skin is pale.
“You can’t be gone,” I whisper to myself.
The sixth hour is the worst.
The sun is setting behind the city. The hues of orange and gold are a painting across the sky and the dark blues of night are starting to bleed in.
I’d turned off my phone after the first hour. It was being too loud—everyone’s messages and questions… I should be back at the house now, making sure Kai is okay—finding the people who did this and going back to the family.
But I don’t want to go back to a place where everyone is happy about Christian’s death.
They’ll say it was his job.
They’ll say he was brave, and give me a pitiful look for a moment or two—his entire death summed up in a single sentence of condolences…
And they’ll all move on.
They’ll carry on talking about the people who did this. About setting an example. Conducting business. Solidifying our reputation. Protecting our ego.
They’ll move on while I continue to break.
Still stuck in the moment when Christian’s heart stopped in my hands.
I’m on the floor beside the bed, one arm on my knee, while my fingers grip my hair tightly. The world is blurring again. It’s blurring because the sixth hour is gone—bled into the seventh.
And Christian’s not here. He hasn’t woken up.
Ah.
I’ve lost my mind.
A sound breaks the room. A soft cry that mimics the silent shattering of my heart.
It feels like I’m dying.
It’s a cacophony of emotion I can’t control.
“Reuben—” Christian’s voice breaks through the room in a croak and my eyes widen even as my tears fall.
There’s a rustling behind me, and his arms wrap around my neck—they’re still cold, but his breath is warm. I can feel his pulse.
“Reuben. Don’t cry.” His soft voice… it’s real.
My face contorts even further.
Fuck.
I’m not crazy.
“I’ll…” he’s holding me tightly, “I’ll explain everything—”
I turn to bury my head in his stomach, wrapping my arms around his waist and crying out like a fucking child.
I think I'm cursing in Spanish. Or thanking Baachan’s spirits.
“I hate you.” My voice is scratchy and parched. It trembles in the air as I cry into him. “I fucking hate you—I'll kill you again—just give me a second.”
He wraps his arms around my head, burying his fingers in my hair to hug my head. And I'm realizing his broken arm has mended.
“I better not be fucking hallucinating,” I whisper.
“... You should really get that checked out.”
I'm glad you have time for fucking jokes.
Just wait. I'll shoot you myself in a second.
When I’ve finally calmed down—when I feel some semblance of myself is finally returning to me and my tears have stopped—I take a shaky breath. His body is warm again. His pulse is stronger. And when I look up there’s colour to his cheeks. His eyes are shining brightly.
I’m clinging to him like a child.
You’ve really done the unthinkable to me.
It’s like I’m under a spell of yours and there’s no way I can ever break it.
“How is this possible?” I ask.
His lips purse. There’s a flicker in his energy—god, I’m so fucking glad to see it again—but it’s anxious. Sad.
Frightened.
I hold his face in my hands, “I'm already yours, remember? I'll stand by you.”
His eyes widen. His face contorts with pain.
His fingers are bundled so tightly in my hair.
“I... I did something stupid,” he forces the words out. He looks like he's in pain, “I took someone’s place—”
The sound of the elevator pings through the suite and my eyes narrow.