Chapter 9 #2
No. Terrified and exhausted and so far past my depth I couldn’t see the surface.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
Moved toward the switch and turned it off.
Fluorescent lights died. Darkness swallowed us completely.
Couldn’t see anything.
Breath stopped.
Without sight, other senses sharpened. Xavier’s breathing beside me. Cold seeping through my coat. His presence adjacent.
He moved. Stepping nearer.
His palm found my elbow. Fingers wrapping gently. Guiding.
My heart hammered.
Then he tugged. Careful. Toward the back entrance.
The moment broke as we reached it.
Xavier’s touch left my arm. I heard him reach for the handle.
The entrance pulled open.
Two cops stood there. Flashlights cutting through darkness.
Everyone froze.
Before I could draw breath.
Before I could speak.
Xavier transformed.
Not a shift. A conversion so complete it defied comprehension.
Movement exploded.
The first cop’s weapon clattered to concrete. He fell. No transition between standing and down. Like frames cut from a film.
Wet crack. Choked sound cut short. Body hitting ground.
The first cop didn’t get up.
The second cop lunged backward. Reaching for his radio.
Xavier moved. One motion, impossibly fast. The second cop dropped.
Crunch of bone meeting concrete at the wrong angle. Soft exhale of air leaving lungs that wouldn’t draw another breath.
Silence.
Two men on the ground. Flashlights rolling across the alley, beams cutting wild patterns through snow.
Bodies at unnatural angles. Dark liquid spreading outward.
Blood. That was blood pooling in the snow.
Xavier stood over them. Breathing harder. Monitoring. Making sure they stayed down.
Not a scratch on him.
My brain tried to replay the sequence. Understand how a person moved that way. Ended two lives in seconds.
Couldn’t.
He killed them.
The thought arrived distant. Like my mind couldn’t close the gap between knowing and seeing.
Killed them the way most people swatted flies. Casual competence born from practice.
No hesitation. Threat identified and neutralized before conscious thought.
That’s what he is.
Under the gentleness and vulnerability. Under every tender moment.
This.
Weapon shaped like a person. Death wearing skin.
My palms shook. Couldn’t make them stop. Cold sweat broke across my skin.
Xavier turned toward me.
The weapon disappeared. Concern flooded his expression. Checking me for injury. Making sure I was okay despite what he’d done.
Gentle Xavier returning like the violence had never happened.
That broke something in me.
How? How did he just switch like that? How did the same palms that crushed windpipes now hover with such careful gentleness?
My throat closed.
He crossed to me. Fast but not threatening. Stopped. Waiting.
I should run. Every instinct screaming to run. Two dead men at our feet. Blood in the snow.
But I wasn’t afraid. Not of him.
Wary of what he’d done. Shocked by the violence. But not afraid of him.
The distinction mattered.
My head was a mess. Thoughts tangling. Because this was always what he was. Killer and protector both real. Both him.
And he’d used that violence for me.
Those cops would’ve arrested us. Separated us. Locked him away where I couldn’t reach him.
Where they could do whatever they wanted to the man with a chip in his spine.
My breath hitched.
Crossroad. Whatever I decided here, no going back.
Xavier’s touch settled on my shoulder. Light pressure. Locked on mine. Telling me without words he’d leave. Disappear alone because I’d seen what he was.
Like he expected this. Expected me to recoil.
Like he thought he deserved to be left.
I could save myself. Tell police he threatened me. They’d believe it.
Perfect victim narrative.
Could work.
But.
Her voice echoed. I really need you, Clare. Please.
This man needed me. And I’d promised myself. Never again. Never make someone wait when they can’t.
Fuck that.
But the words wouldn’t come.
My body wouldn’t move.
Because there were two men dead at my feet. Two men who’d had families, maybe. Lives. Futures.
Gone.
Because of him.
Because of me.
My stomach lurched. Throat constricted. Vision tunneled.
Going to be sick.
I stumbled sideways. Away from the bodies. Away from the blood spreading in dark halos across white snow. Palm pressed to my mouth.
Retched. Nothing came up. Just dry heaves that bent me double.
Xavier’s touch settled on my back. Steadying.
I flinched away.
Not from fear. From horror at what I’d witnessed. What I’d become complicit in.
Two men dead. Dead.
My breathing came too fast. Shallow gasps that didn’t fill my lungs. Hyperventilating.
Cop number one, young. Maybe mid-twenties. Wedding ring on his left finger catching the beam from the fallen flashlight.
Someone’s husband. Someone’s son.
I pressed my palms against my thighs. Tried to force air into my lungs properly. Tried to think through the panic.
They would’ve arrested us. Separated us. Xavier would’ve disappeared into custody where that chip could be activated or he could be silenced permanently.
He’d done this to protect us. To survive.
But they were still dead.
And I was standing here trying to rationalize murder.
My palms shook violently. Whole body trembling despite the cold already numbing my extremities.
Three days ago I was an ER nurse. Saved lives. Helped people.
Now I was an accessory to double homicide.
How did I get here? How did three minutes spiral into this?
Xavier stood motionless several feet away. Giving me space. Waiting.
For what? For me to scream? Run? Call for help?
He’d let me. I could see it in the set of his shoulders. The resignation in his posture. He’d killed to protect us, but he wouldn’t force me to accept it.
The choice was mine.
I could walk away. Flag down the next patrol car. Tell them everything. Xavier forced me to help him. Threatened me. I had no choice.
They’d believe it. Who wouldn’t? The evidence was right there. Two dead officers. Fugitive standing over them. Terrified nurse caught in the crossfire.
Picture-perfect victim.
I’d be safe. Career damaged but salvageable. Life disrupted but recoverable.
Xavier would disappear into the system. Into whatever hell awaited men with chips in their spines and no memory of who put them there.
He’d die. Maybe not immediately. But eventually.
And I’d live with the knowledge I’d left him.
Like I left her.
The thought slammed into me with physical force.
Begging me to come over. Just for a few hours, Clare. I really need you. And I’d been tired. So tired from double shifts. Told her tomorrow. Promised tomorrow.
Tomorrow she was dead.
Overdose they’d said. Accident. But I knew. I knew she’d been slipping. Knew she’d needed me.
And I’d made her wait.
My breathing slowed. Still ragged, but controlled.
I lifted my head. Met Xavier’s attention across six feet of blood-stained snow.
Two dead men between us. The violence he was capable of laid bare.
And beneath the horror. Beneath the shock. Beneath the moral weight crushing my chest.
One truth remained.
He needed me. Right now. Couldn’t explain. Couldn’t ask properly. Could only stand there and give me the choice.
Leave him or stay.
I’d made a promise to myself. Never again would I make someone wait when they couldn’t.
Even if it cost me everything.
Even if it made me complicit in this.
My throat worked. Mouth dry. Voice came out raw. “How long before someone finds them?”
Xavier’s focus widened fractionally. Question and understanding mixed.
I took a step toward him. Then another. Legs unsteady but holding.
“How long?” Steadier now. Colder. Something shifting inside me. Some line crossed that couldn’t be uncrossed. “Ten minutes? Twenty? How much time do we have?”
He pulled out the notepad. Wrote fast. Less. Five maybe.
Five minutes. Five minutes before every cop in France descended on this clinic. On us.
No going back from two dead officers.
I grabbed the backpack from where it had fallen. Shoved it at his chest. “Then we run. Now.”
Understanding flooded his expression. And something else. Something that looked like relief mixed with regret.
I couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t think about the wedding ring or the families or the futures cut short.
Could only think: five minutes. Maybe less.
“Move.” The word came out harsh. Command instead of request.
Xavier moved.
I grabbed his wrist. Pulled him toward the darkness beyond the clinic entrance. Away from the bodies. Away from the blood. Away from the choice I’d just made.
We ran.