Chapter 59 CRIMSON VOWS
My heart rips to shreds at the sight of Elias crumpled on the floor.
Face ashen. Red dousing his shirt. His breath a rattle.
“No,” I sob, collapsing beside him, tears blurring my view of his beautiful face.
His eyes snap open, panic flashing through the haze.
“L-Lana, why are you here? Go,” he whispers, voice weak. “It’s too dangerous. Go, please.”
I shake my head and slam my palm against the emergency button. Somewhere, alarms bloom—Code Silver, Code Red. More screams of terror.
I grab the nearest bedsheet and press it to his wound.
Warmth floods through the white fabric, relentless.
He reaches for me, fingers shaking.
I lift his hand—it’s ice—to my lips and breathe warmth onto his knuckles.
“Stay strong, Elias. Tristan went to get backup and doctors. You’re at a hospital. You’ll be fine. Help is coming.”
Elias’s throat works, surprise flickering on his face.
Another sob breaks from me. “I partnered with him to save you. Got you immunity and everything. But we couldn’t reach you in time.”
Tears drench my face and salt my mouth. The plan had worked—until it didn’t.
Our PR liaison was late, and then she took a detour to avoid the honor walk.
By the time we reached the floor, chaos erupted—shots, screams, a flood of fleeing bodies. Tristan knew we were possibly outnumbered. He went for help and to call it in.
“My zemer,” Elias rasps, his bloody fingers trailing down my cheek. “Why would you risk yourself for me? I’m a monster. I kill. I’m not the man you remember—”
“Shut. Up.” I clutch his shoulder, raining frantic kisses on his face. “I don’t care if you’re Kian or Elias. I love and choose both. I’d take any piece of you rather than nothing. You’ll never get rid of me, so you listen carefully—”
Pulling back, I wipe my eyes and lace my fingers with his.
“You’re going to survive this. Death didn’t claim you all those years ago. It won’t claim you now. Because you know why?”
I lean in, watching his pulse flutter at his temple.
“You’re the Shadow King, the king of the underworld, and I’m your queen. You don’t die. B-Because…”
Pressing a kiss onto his ear, I whisper, “I love you. Only you. Forever you.”
Elias trembles underneath me. “My zemer, I love you—”
Then he jolts and stills.
A click slices through the air. A menacing heat presses on my back.
“This is touching and all,” Agron rasps.
I’m yanked to my feet, a muscular arm crushing my throat.
Steel jams against my temple.
“Should’ve made sure I was dead. Rookie mistake.”
He squeezes harder. My lungs strain for oxygen. I claw at his forearm, nails slicing skin, but he doesn’t budge.
Elias struggles, cold sweat dripping over his pallid forehead. He grips the bedrail, dragging himself upright.
My throat burns. Panic claws my chest. I thrash in the bastard’s hold—arms swinging, feet kicking. My vision winks. Faint grunts reach my ears.
But I don’t stop fighting.
I will never stop fighting.
“How touching.” Agron cackles, dragging me backward with him. “I wonder what’ll happen if—”
A shot cracks through the chaos.
His grip loosens. A pained grunt rips from his throat.
I shove free, but he’s too quick to snatch me against his chest like a shield before spinning us around.
Ren stands in the doorway—black-clad, half-masked. A gun smokes in his hand.
“Bastard,” he rasps. He clutches his chest, sounding winded. “I got here too late. Aleksei sent me on a wild fucking goose chase around the city.”
Leveling his gun at Agron, he catches my eye. “Let her go.”
“No. I’m not dying today, and she’s my ticket out.” Agron wheezes.
I don’t know where he’s hit, but it’s clear he’s in pain.
Agron hauls me toward the corridor.
“Let her go,” a faint voice calls. “Take me instead.”
My heart stops, pain carving fatal wounds inside me.
Elias.
He sways on his feet, blood dripping down his clothes, eyes glazed.
“Take me. I’m more valuable. I’ll tell them I did it. It was self-defense. Just let her go.”
“No,” I cry, shaking my head. If Agron takes him, he’s dead.
Agron chuckles, his face pallid. But his grip holds strong. “The great Elias Kent never kneels for anyone.”
The bastard stumbles, crashing us into a cart of alcohol wipes and machinery. A cord rips free from the wall. One fiery spark leaps from the socket, and the world catches fire.
The flames spread, overtaking the cart as heat surges.
Sprinklers burst, inferno meets storm, and the world hisses.
“Kneel, Kent. Kneel, and I just might let her live.”
Elias’s gaze finds mine.
Once, he swore he’d never kneel again—not after being forced to his knees in the rain, not after begging for his family’s lives and watching them die, anyway.
Kneeling was the one choice the world couldn’t take from him. It was his last defense.
“No,” I whisper. Don’t make him kneel.
Elias’s knees buckle in front of me.
No hesitation.
They hit the floor with a thud as water sheets down from the ceiling.
In an instant, time rewinds. Strains of “Für Elise” bloom in my mind.
Young Elise shielded a shivering Kian with her bright red umbrella.
Because she’d known then, somehow, he’d matter.
Grief guts my insides as I watch Elias sway on his knees, water drenching his hair, his face, soaking through his clothes. Blood streams from him onto the floor in crimson rivers.
He’s kneeling once again.
For me.
To protect me.
“Elias,” I sob. “Don’t. Don’t do this.”
His riveting green eyes, dimmed as life ekes from him, snare on mine, the intensity searing into my heart.
“I was born to love you,” he breathes, “and I will die to protect you. Nothing is more important than you, Lana. Pride. Life. Revenge. Nothing.”
“I love you,” I whisper as Agron’s arm crushes my windpipe. “I love you so much.”
“How poetic.” Agron sneers. “The great Elias Kent down on his knees for a woman. Pathetic—”
He lunges—
A blur. A roar.
Suddenly I’m ripped free and hurled against the wall.
Ren and Agron struggle. Guns fired, rounds spray through the air. Violence baptized in rain.
A gun clangs to the ground, skittering out of view. Agron drives punches into Ren’s torso, sending him flying.
Then he raises his gun—
Bang!
Agron staggers, eyes wide. A harsh groan, a half gasp. He collapses onto the floor.
I turn.
Elias sprawls on the floor, a smoking gun slipping out of his grasp. His eyes roll back.
“No!” I scream, diving to him.
Agron wheezes in the background—footsteps pound closer.
Bang! Bang!
The shots stop me in my tracks, and I look up. Tristan stands over the bastard with a grim look on his face, a gun steady in his hand.
I gather Elias’s lifeless body into my arms, his blood slicking my skin.
“Don’t leave me,” I whisper, kissing his hair. “We haven’t been to Hollow Gardens together yet.”
I look up, unseeing, and scream, “Where’s the doctor?”
Footsteps thunder down the hallway—SWAT teams, stretchers, people in scrubs. Someone unleashes the fire extinguisher, and the hiss of foam devours the flames.
Hands tear at me, yanking me away from the man I love.
The hall is a storm, a shipwreck caught in a tempest.
Alarms, shouts, smell of smoke and iron.
Sprinklers drench my face, streaking my skin.
Ren lies unmoving, blood pooling under him. Beside him, a familiar man in green scrubs, blond hair coated in red.
Visions flash behind my eyelids. Kind smile. Soft eyes.
Blake Amscot, Aria’s fiancé. He got caught in the crossfire.
“No,” I gasp.
The trauma team swarms, barking orders, wheels screeching on flooded tiles as crash carts roll in.
Gunshots still ring in my ears, drowning out the dying beats of my heart and our unending melody, “Für Elise.”
“Elias,” I cry, reaching for him again.
But strong arms restrain me. I thrash, kick, and scream, grief tearing through me like a hurricane.
A small prick.
Then…darkness.