38. Chapter 38
Chapter 38
Anastasia
T he bullet slices through the air, grazing my arm before embedding itself into the tree behind me with a sharp, splintering crack.
A sharp sting flares up, warmth spreading as blood seeps down my skin in thin, winding rivulets. My hand clamps down over the wound, another one to add to the growing collection.
But I barely feel it.
My body is weak. My mind is slipping, fighting to stay conscious, to stay in the moment.
I can't black out. Not now.
A slow, mocking chuckle cuts through the night.
"Had to make sure this thing worked," Jake sneers, wiping at the blood streaming down his face from the gash on his forehead. It drips down his cheek, staining his collar, but he doesn’t seem to care.
He steps around Walker’s lifeless body like it’s nothing more than a piece of debris in his path. Without hesitation, he kicks it over, letting out an amused scoff.
"You really are something else, aren’t you, Anastasia?" he muses, his tone almost fascinated. "I’ll admit, grabbing the wheel, that was bold. Didn’t expect that. But brutally murdering Cole and Walker?" He lets out a low whistle. "It’s almost like you want to be remembered as a ruthless killer."
A laugh bubbles from my lips. Weak at first. Quiet. Then it builds, shaking through me, growing louder, wilder, until it’s full-blown, breathless hysteria.
Tears sting my eyes, mingling with the pain searing through my body. My ribs feel like they’re being crushed under the weight of it all.
I grit my teeth. Breathe. Swallow down the agony.
"I went down fighting," I whisper, voice hoarse but firm. "That much you can acknowledge."
Jake tilts his head, considering me with something almost like admiration. Almost.
"One hell of a fight," he concedes with a smirk.
Then, he lifts the gun.
The barrel levels with my forehead.
He smiles.
"I’ll make sure your obituary is beautiful."
This is it.
The end.
My fingers curl around the necklace at my throat—the one Noah gave me. The metal is warm against my skin, a last reminder of the life I almost had. The life that could have been.
I close my eyes.
And whisper the only thing that matters.
"I love you, Noah."
Then the shot rings through the air.
Noah
Fingers tightening around the grip of my gun, I raise my arms, steadying my aim. My sights lock onto Jake’s head.
He stands with his back to me, his body a human shield, blocking my view of her.
Blood stains the snow around her, stark against the white.
I have to end this.
I have to kill him.
My finger twitches on the trigger-
"Easy now," Roman murmurs beside me, his own gun raised, his voice a low, measured warning. "We need him alive if we’re going to pin all of this on him."
My jaw clenches.
Alive?
Jake doesn’t deserve that.
A quick scan of the area confirms what I already suspected. Roman’s men are in position, their figures blending into the trees, mere shadows against the darkness. They move like ghosts, silent and waiting.
Jake is surrounded.
He just doesn’t know it yet.
Roman presses a hand to the earpiece in his ear, his voice barely a whisper.
"Let Noah take the shot. Only move in on my word. Your priority is securing the bodies and alerting local authorities. Should he harm Ana in front of us, beat him senseless, but keep him breathing."
Jake shifts slightly, and for a brief moment, I catch a glimpse of her.
Ana.
Barely moving.
The grip on my gun tightens so hard my knuckles go white, my pulse roaring in my ears. Jake’s gun is still pointed at her head, his finger resting on the trigger like it’s nothing.
Like her life means nothing.
"What are we waiting for?" I whisper, voice raw with restraint.
Roman doesn’t look at me. "You know where to shoot him?"
I glare, saying nothing.
He sighs. "His spine."
I blink.
Roman’s voice is as cold as the night air. "Paralyze the bastard. Make him pay for life in another way."
A slow exhale slips past my lips as I lower my aim, my gun now aligned with the base of Jake’s spine.
A lifetime of suffering. A life spent helpless.
It’s almost poetic.
I hold my breath, my finger tightening on the trigger.
"Breathe," Roman warns. "That’s the only way you’ll make a clean shot."
"I’ll make sure your obituary is beautiful."
Jake sneers, his finger hovering over the trigger, seconds away from doing something he can never undo.
Something I can never undo.
I stare at her—Anastasia.
Bruised. Bleeding. Barely holding on.
Her swollen eyes close, and in a voice so faint, so heartbreakingly final, she whispers the words that break me.
"I love you, Noah."
That’s all it takes.
All it takes for the world to go red.
All it takes to pull the trigger.
The gunshot rips through the air, then another and another.
Three rounds slam into my brother’s back.
Jake staggers, his body convulsing as the impact shreds through him. A choked gasp escapes his lips as he crumples to the ground.
But I’m not done.
I lunge before Roman can give the order, before anyone can stop me.
My boot kicks Jake’s gun away as I straddle him, yanking his broken body onto his back. His mouth gapes open in pain, but I don’t let him speak.
My fist crashes into his jaw. Once. Twice. Again.
Bones crunch beneath my knuckles, his head snapping to the side, blood spitting from his lips. His legs are limp, his eyes wide, panic setting in as he realizes what’s happened.
He can’t move.
I’ve paralyzed him.
A fitting end.
Around me, Roman’s men move in like shadows, working in grim silence. They haul the bodies, stuffing them into black bags, wiping this scene off the earth like it never existed.
"Noah," Roman hisses, stepping closer. "That’s enough, man-"
I shove him off, my fist readying for another blow—
But Roman’s hand catches mine midair.
His grip is iron.
"Noah." His voice is sharp, cutting through the haze. "Ana needs you now."
Ana.
The name pulls me back.
I hear it then, the distant wail of ambulance sirens.
Reality crashes in.
Roman turns to his men. "Get her to safety. We’ll handle this shithead."
But I don’t care about Jake anymore.
I only care about her.
Snapping my head toward Ana, my breath catches.
Her eyes wide despite the swelling.
Her body trembling, covered in bruises and blood.
I don’t think. I just move.
In a second, I’m there, wrapping her in my arms, pulling her against me, my jacket thrown over her fragile frame.
She melts into my chest, her fingers gripping my shirt with what little strength she has left.
"Noah," she sobs, pain thick in her voice, "I thought I was dead-"
I press my lips to her hair, my voice breaking.
"It’s okay, Princess."
But as I look around, the mutilated bodies now being shoved into bags, one thought slams into me.
Did she do that?
That’s my fucking girl.
Tears spill from my eyes, my throat locking up as I hold her tighter.
"God, Ana, I was so fucking scared I lost you," I whisper, my hands cupping her face, my thumb brushing over a fresh cut.
I press my forehead to hers, my breath shaky.
"I love you so fucking much."
Her lips tremble, barely parting, but she finds the strength to kiss me—weak, soft, but there.
Her breath grazes my skin as she whispers, "Please… take me home."
I scoop her up, cradling her battered body against my chest.
She feels weightless.
Too light. Too fragile.
A sharp pang shoots through me as I register just how many wounds cover her. Cuts, bruises, dried blood, evidence of every moment she fought to survive.
She shouldn’t have had to fight.
I run.
Every step sends fire through my legs, but I don’t stop. I won’t stop.
The cold air whips against my face, the night pressing in around us, but I let the flashing ambulance lights guide me forward.
One step. Then another.
Toward safety.
Toward life.
Toward a future I refuse to lose.