38. Mackenzie
Chapter 38
Mackenzie
Kirill helps me back toward the main college building.
Paxton Kassell is finally dead. He can’t hurt me anymore. But the destruction he’s wreaked continues to play on as the survivors of the blast try to help those who’ve been injured.
The authorities will be here soon. Police, and firefighters, and paramedics. They’ll take charge, or perhaps not. I’m not sure how much leeway Nataniele will give them and how much they will demand. This is no ordinary college, and while he can’t keep the emergency services out when an attack this large has happened, I expect Nataniele will want control of it. He’ll vet who comes in because having the place crawling with personnel who might gossip about what goes on here would be a disaster.
The cleanup alone will be arduous. Then we’ll have to rebuild.
I could probably use a paramedic myself. The cut in my side isn’t deep, but it’s still bleeding and hurts like a bitch. I’m worried about Tino as well. He was obviously injured in the bombing, and he needs medical help, too.
As we get closer, I can still hear people crying for help. My heart tightens in my chest. My God, those poor people.
I glance up to Kirill. “We should help.”
He shakes his head. “No, you need to sit down. You said you were dizzy, and you’re bleeding.”
“I’m okay. I’d rather put myself to use. People need us, Kirill.”
Tears mist my vision. These people are hurt because of me . Paxton would never have come if I weren’t here, and everyone who’d been hurt or worse would still be going about their day. I can’t believe how utterly crazy he clearly was and must have been the entire time I was seeing him, except I missed it. Only at the very end did I get a clue, and even then, I had no inkling he’d be the kind of person to commit an attack like this. Depending on how many people are dead and injured, a man I shared a bed with, let inside me, is a mass murderer. The thought makes me want to vomit.
How can I have gotten him so very wrong? I tell myself I was young and na?ve, but my God, I’m barely older now, and what if I’m still the same, na?ve girl, unable to judge character? I glance at Kirill, wondering what he’d do if he thought he was going to lose me. I have to start standing up for myself and what I believe in.
“I’m not leaving here without helping.” I hold Kirill’s gaze.
His expression tightens, and he’s probably thinking about how Domenic will lose his shit at letting me back into this chaos, but he knows I’m right.
“Okay, but not for long. As soon as the authorities turn up, we leave them to it.”
I nod once. “Deal.”
But as we get toward what remains of the door, Nataniele appears. His shoulders are hunched, his head down. He sees me, and instead of being pleased I’m safe or even asking after his son, his features contort with pain.
He puts out a hand. “Mackenzie, stop. You can’t go that way.”
I draw to a halt, Kirill’s arm still around me. “Why not? I want to help.”
“No, you don’t need to. We’ve got it in hand.”
“What are you talking about? I can hear people crying. If there’s anything I can do…”
He snaps at me. “You can’t. Okay? I already told you no.”
But there’s something about the stiffness of his expression and the shine of his eyes that alerts me. His eye contact is too intense. Something has happened—something terrible.
I suddenly remember my reason for coming down to the kitchen in the first place.
“Where’s Mom?” I demand.
“Mackenzie, please…”
My tone rises in pitch. “Where is she? Is she hurt? Have you seen her?”
He closes his eyes briefly.
I shove past him. He tries to grab for me, but I shake him off.
“You’re going to need to take care of your girlfriend,” I hear him tell Kirill.
Kirill sounds worried. “Why? What’s happened?”
But I barely hear him. I’m already in the middle of the remains of the kitchen, picking my way through the rubble and debris. My heart is beating so fast I think it might explode. I scan the twisted metal and crumbled stones, desperately hoping I’m wrong.
I draw to a halt and suck in a breath. When I release it again, it’s with a cry of anguish.
“No!”
The scream tears from my lips, and I drop to my knees.
My mom’s body is half buried beneath the rubble. Her blue eyes are glassy and unseeing. Blood trickles in rivulets from her ears and nostrils. Her face is impossibly pale. That goddamned dust clings to her eyelashes and settles on her skin.
The sounds peeling from my throat are raw and primal. “Mom? Mommy? No, please, you can’t be gone.”
I don’t want to believe it. She can’t be dead; she just can’t be. There must be something we can do. My brain refuses to compute the possibility that this is real. I must be trapped in a nightmare, and any minute now I’m going to wake up.
But nothing changes.
“I need you,” I sob. “I still need you.”
Grief tears me in two. I desperately wish for some way I can go back in time and change what’s happened, but that’s impossible.
Paxton did this. But he did it because of me. Which makes my mother’s death my fault. I’m a walking, talking angel of death, and all I attract is violence and chaos. Part of me wants to run away and hide forever, deep in some deserted forest where I won’t be able to bring my toxicity to the world ever again.
I feel like all the strength has gone out of my body, my muscles have been drained of any power, my bones broken, my veins emptied of blood. I’m a shell of a person.
Hands try to hold me up, to offer me comfort, but I fight them off.
“No, leave me alone!”
It’s Nataniele. “Mackenzie, you can’t stay here. She’s gone.”
I fold in half, pressing my forehead to her chest, sheltering her with my body. I cry and scream and rock back and forth, utterly lost in my grief. I don’t care about anyone or anything, only that I’m alone in the world now.
I touch her face and try to see any recognition in her eyes. Can I bring life back to her? Give her my own breath? I would if I could.
Kirill’s with Nataniele now, trying to help me up. “Come on, my love. Let us help you, please, Mackenzie.”
But I ignore them both.
I scream and wail, as though my pain is a physical thing inside me that’s trying to escape through my mouth. For a while, I think I genuinely lose it. My brain won’t comprehend the reason for my grief, but my heart knows and is breaking.
Somewhere in the distance, I hear sirens.
I lost my dad, and now I’ve lost my mom too. I’m an orphan. What will happen to me now? The only reason I was ever tolerated here was because of my mom’s relationship with Nataniele. Now she’s gone, what will happen to me?
How had I left things with her? What were the final words I’d ever spoken to her? Had we fought? Had I told her I loved her? Did she know?
Our relationship had been fractious recently, more so than at any other time in our lives. We’d always been so close—more best friends than mother and daughter—but since coming to Verona Falls, things had been different. Revelations had been made, and I’d seen her in a different light—not one that I’d liked. But she’d still been my mom, and I’d loved her more than anything. I’d give anything to see her one last time, to tell her I loved her, and I was sorry for all the horrible things I might have said to her recently. I wished I hadn’t caused her so many problems, and I’d made her life a little more peaceful.
If it hadn’t been for my illness, we might never have found ourselves in any of this mess to begin with. If it hadn’t been for my weakness and always searching for love and acceptance, I’d never have met Paxton, and Mom would be alive.
“The paramedics are here, Mackenzie,” Nataniele says. “She can’t stay here. They need to take her.”
“No! Don’t touch her! Don’t touch her.”
I know if they take her away, I’ll never see her again.
He’s got tears streaming down his face, and somehow, that makes everything even worse. That a tough guy like Nataniele is crying means it’s real. She’s not coming back. Nothing can change what’s happened.
It’s as though I’ve lost a part of me.
Dom is here now, though I have no idea when he arrived. He’s covered in blood, but then so are lots of people after the explosion so no one asks where it’s from.
Between Dom and Kirill, they pull me to my feet. My legs won’t work, and I sag against them. They sandwich me between them, wrapping me in their bodies, trying to shield me from all the hurt and pain, but their efforts will never be enough. I’m distraught, crying and screaming against them. Their solid strength stops me from hurting myself, like they’re trying to crush the anger and pain out of me.
A tiny part of me is aware that Tino isn’t with them. He got hurt during the explosion, and paramedics are looking after him. I know I should check on him, to offer him some comfort, but I just don’t have it in me. Dom and Kirill will look out for him. He’s got his brothers, the other Devils. He doesn’t need me as well.
All the fight goes out of me.
Dom bends slightly and scoops me up like I’m a child, holding me against his chest. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his shoulder. I don’t even care if I get Paxton’s blood on me. My cries have softened to sobbing now, and still the tears come.
“I can’t leave her,” I whisper.
“Trust me, baby,” he says, “you don’t want to see them carry her out of here. We can go and see her later, if you want, but for now, let’s get you upstairs. Please.”
“I don’t want Mom to be alone,” I sob.
“She won’t be alone,” Nataniele says. “I’ll stay with her. Mackenzie, please, you look as white as a sheet, and you’ve been injured. Let the paramedics look at you, and I promise, I won’t leave Lucia’s side.”
He bends down and takes her hand, his thumb brushing over her skin.
A new respect for this man blooms in me. “Okay,” I whisper to Dom. “Okay.”
The tears fall as I let him hold me to his chest.
“We’ll get one of the paramedics to come up to the room,” he says. “They can look you over up there.”
He carries me away from the chaos and my mom’s body, through the college, and up to our rooms.
We pass Nataniele’s quarters, and the idea that my mom will never go into those rooms again enters my head and starts the tears flowing faster. I feel as if I’ll never stop crying. Never smile again. Nothing seems real. This can’t be real.
He lets us into my room—I don’t even question why he has a key—and carries me over to the bed.
Kirill brings me a glass of water, and I sip at it shakily before pushing it away. I don’t want it. I don’t want anything other than to bring my mom back.
I curl onto my side and cry hopelessly into my pillow, until eventually a paramedic comes. I’m only distantly aware of him checking me over. I’m barely present as I go through the motions, allowing him to clean and dress my wound.
“I can give her something to help her sleep,” I hear him say to Dom and Kirill.
“Yes, I think that will be a good idea,” Dom replies.
They maneuver me again, this time to sit me up and get me to take some pills. I swallow them down like a good little puppet, and then lie back down. I just want them to leave me alone with my grief. I’m sure it will swallow me whole. That they’ll come back one day to find I’ve just vanished, sunken into myself and become nothing, like an imploding star.