65. CHAPTER 65
Zayne
The Capital
Kallum, Ciondo
Graves was panicking and wouldn't let them go.
Those two facts cut to the center of Zayne, because both made his private an unacceptable threat to Kira and her freedom.
And that was all that mattered.
She was his war.
His sole priority right now.
But something much worse than a jumpy soldier stalked them in these woods.
Wind stirred the trees and bugs chirped, the quiet heartbeat of the secluded woods hugging the north end of the base.
They should be alone out here, but Graves spotted them, like he'd known where to look.
Or like someone knew where to place him.
“Something is very wrong.” The private's voice boomed.
He was right. Something was very, very wrong. Who placed one of the survivors from Zayne's squad in his path? Who knew how to toy with him like this? The Phaedra figured out their plan and instead of simply capturing him, played another game.
Nothing else made sense.
Reinard was supposed to be in control of all communication in this zone, but no one responded to the code Zayne sent through his watch when he saw the flashlight.
Worse, Graves was not scheduled for this patrol, and he shouldn't be able to hear anything on the radio.
“You're trembling and could discharge your weapon,” Zayne said. “Lower your gun.”
“When we were leaving Bluehaven… You kicked a bottle of water close enough for a wounded United soldier to grab.” His voice hitched. “They'd just killed all our people, but you gave one of them water. I saw you.”
What? Zayne didn't even remember that. Was the most important mission of his life really going to fall apart because of a passing mercy he showed to a dying soldier? “I don't know what you're talking about. Stop aiming at me, Graves.”
“You're a better shot than me. Faster. If I lower my gun, y-you could shoot me.”
Zayne didn't have time to waste. He couldn't fall behind schedule and risk Kira not making it to the jet. And if he surrendered his weapons, there'd be little hope.
He eased closer to Graves, his hand inching toward his weapon. What options did he have that didn't hurt the private? That gun was on him, aimed to kill. Inexperienced, panicked soldiers couldn't be trusted not to fire.
Graves was a threat.
And he'd sacrifice anyone to save Kira from the torture the Phaedra planned for her.
Discordant calm stirred through him, clashing with the war waging in his heart, quieting his mind for what must be done.
His heart sank into his gut. Hand ready.
“On your knees,” Graves said.
Zayne nodded at Kira, and she lowered slowly. He bent his knees but still remained standing. “I really need to go, Graves.”
“She has red hair! They said red hair on the radio.” His voice blared through the woods. “This isn't right.”
A stick broke beneath Kira when she kneeled.
The private flinched at the sound.
Shifted his gun away from Zayne toward her.
A fraction of a second was all it took for Zayne to draw his weapon, and for Graves to retrain his gun.
And a fraction of a second was all it took for it to end.
They both fired.
The force of a truck plowed into Zayne's chest.
Grave's body jerked from the shot to his heart.
Zayne immediately fired again, struggling against the force ripping his left side back.
Fire rushed through his chest and midsection, pain sending agonizing shockwaves through him.
But he aimed between Graves' eyes anyway and shot as his body started to drop.
The private crumbled to the ground.
“Zayne!” Kira jolted toward him.
Unbearable heartbeats stabbed through Zayne's chest, shocking enough to freeze everything in his body.
But he couldn't freeze. Couldn't.
He stumbled forward, free hand clutching the base of his ribs, his mind not yet caught up. Body moving on instinct alone.
Gasping, Zayne held the weapon on Graves one second longer, bleary vision seeking out the exit wounds, the still body, the lifeless eyes.
Two red holes in his chest and one between his brows.
Safe.
Kira was safe from Graves.
Now he felt it, the dread and fear as overpowering as the pain.
The plan fell apart so fast, and his thoughts couldn't keep up.
His arm fell to his side, nearly wrenching the gun from his grasp.
Steps unsteady.
Blood rushed too quickly from his wound.
World spinning.
Arms heavy.
He wasn't dead yet.
And Kira…
She skidded to a stop beside him.
As the life spilled out from Zayne, his mind and body shut down everything except for survival, and that one word. That word filled him as Kira gripped his arm.
Safe.
But not for long.
Zayne's legs gave out. He crashed onto his knees and slammed against Kira as she dropped down with him. Every touch hurt more than he could even process but having her with him was worth it.
“Zayne!”
Her voice bounced around in his mind, reverberating with the gunshots that tore through his world.
Even before assessing damage, he wanted to tell her he was okay and ease the terror blazing in her eyes.
“My…” No breath. “...bag…”
Kira wrestled it off his back. Any longer, and Graves would have had time to train the gun back on his heart. It'd been close.
He tried planning and calculating, but the shock of the gunshot shut down his thoughts.
She stripped his uniform jacket free, and the movement hurt so bad his body curled in on itself, leaning against her. Red stained his white shirt down to his pants. Kira let out a horrified gasp.
He was losing blood too fast. The bullet hole looked like it was over his liver, or close to it. High risk for catastrophic blood loss. The clotters could only do so much if he took too much damage.
He couldn't die in front of her.
Kira ripped his shirt up, grimacing at the hole tearing into the base of his chest. She searched his back, her voice shaking. “There's no exit wound. No, no, no. The bullet's still inside of you.”
Because it just had to get worse.
He felt himself sinking. Knew he'd collapse any second. “Put my bag… behind…”
She shoved it behind him as he fell and landed on top, a stunted cry ripping through him.
“Hang on. I'm here.” Kira pressed her hands against the wound, and he growled through clenched teeth, fighting the darkness eating away at his vision.
With one hand stifling the flow of blood, Kira dug in his bag and pulled out the clotters, continuing to search until she found scissors.
His vision darkened while she cut away his shirt.
“I'm sorry,” she said through tears, lining the applicator with his wound.
She'd do it. Just like she scaled the building when she was terrified of heights.
He tried to nod but wasn't sure he managed. His head fell back, the leaves of the trees blurring in green lines that reminded him of the white trails of the shooting stars.
Beautiful.
Then his chest erupted with the pain of being shot all over again.
Worse.
The clotters expanded inside his open wound, and the trace amounts of PXI leeched into his body. Zayne lost touch with the world, with the trees, with himself.
His eyes fluttered open to Kira covering his mouth with her bloody hands, trying to suffocate his scream.
Grinding his teeth so hard he thought they'd break, Zayne seized control of his body and swallowed down the cries battering at his chest to escape. His muscles clenched from the PXI, not as bad as from a pure dose, but enough to fucking hurt when he had a hole in his lower chest.
“Fuck,” he hissed the word, chasing it with an unsatisfying groan that needed to explode into another scream.
“It's okay,” Kira whispered. “I'm so sorry.” Sticky fingers ran through his hair. Tears fell from her chin onto his cheeks.
“Red… cap…” He fought for every single gasp of air. Fury and desperation consumed him because he needed to get Kira to safety, not bleed out on the ground. But deep inside, in a place beneath the rage, Zayne felt a trickle of relief.
Relief at feeling what Edwards did in her last moments, like he'd joined his friend again, bringing her back to life to sit with her through the pain.
The guilt closed in soon after, silencing everything except the need to stay alive long enough to see Kira to safety. Before, Zayne's mind didn't let him see it, but while Kira injected him with the pain medicine, he took in Private Grave's unseeing eyes.
“I… killed him…”
What kind of monster could shoot his own private?
“Shhh…” Kira bent and wiped the blood from his mouth with her shirt. “He's fine. You hear me? He's fine. Nothing happened.”
It did. Zayne shot him twice in the heart and once in the fucking face.
He welcomed the pain and almost cursed the medication, only he needed the relief to help Kira. His entire life narrowed to this one mandate.
Kira. Safe.
Those words ran through his mind repeatedly until everything else quieted.
“A green cap,” he said.
“Adrenaline? Your heart—”
“Now,” he commanded, voice tense with pain. It didn't matter if the adrenaline pumped his heart so fast that all the blood rushed from his wound. He needed to move, immediately.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, she clasped the green-capped medication, eyes falling to the thick scar cutting through his chest and down to the bullet hole. Kira let out a sob. “I told you to stop getting hurt.”
“Oops,” Zayne said.
No way he'd get anything close to a smile out of her, but he tried. Kira's body trembled as she looked at the adrenaline. He kept his eyes on her, willing her to find the strength.
And she did.
When she injected him, the adrenaline surged through his body, flooding him with energy and the need to run, but he still felt weak.
Zayne clutched his wound with one hand, feeling the clotters bulging from it, and placed his other on the ground. Braced himself.
He rolled onto his forearm and froze at the ripping sensation in his gut, nearly collapsing. It would be too hard to get up. Come on.
“I've got you,” Kira said, holding onto him. He was too heavy for her arms to make a difference, but her touch felt peaceful.
Soon, he struggled to his knees.
“Take a break.” Kira slid beneath his arm and shouldered some of his weight.
Fuck…