KADE
32
My wipers slash back and forth, their frantic rhythm losing the battle against the storm’s fury. The whole world is a blur of water and headlights, and beneath it all, Sage’s voice rips through the crackling static of the call, jagged and raw.
“Fuck, Kade. He’s gonna?—”
Lightning splits the sky, carving the dark night into a stark black-and-white horror film—two sets of headlights up ahead, one predator, one prey. Sage’s truck fishtails wildly, its tires clawing at the potholed asphalt, water spraying up like blood from an open wound. Samuel isn’t simply chasing her. He’s herding her like fucking cattle. And then, I watch helplessly as he makes impact.
“Oh god, I can’t— Fuck!”
Her screams fill my cab as she loses whatever control she had left of her Chevy. The guardrails along the Black River Bridge crumple like brittle bones, snapping apart in a spray of splintered wood and twisted steel. The metal wails—a sound that doesn’t just echo but claws its way inside my chest.
Sage’s truck launches over the edge, and Samuel’s right behind her. For a moment, the world holds its breath… then it exhales in ruin.
No. No. No. No. The word pounds against my skull, a brutal drumbeat of denial. I slam the accelerator, but the truck is a lumbering beast that chokes on its lack of power.
“Fuck!”
I yank the wheel, barely keeping from careening over the same edge.
I throw the door open, taking my keys with me, in case I need the safety tool dangling from it.
Within seconds, I’m sliding down the bank, ready to dive headfirst, but instinct stops me before I lunge into the dark. Deadweight sinks.
My jacket hits the tall grass before my shirt follows. Next to go are my boots. Then the second my belt unhooks, I drop my jeans and am already moving. Feet pounding. Breath heaving. The only thought in my head is getting Sage out of there before the river takes her.
My chest feels tight with something more volatile than adrenaline, more dangerous than fear.
I dive in. Ice-cold jaws snap around my ribs, sinking deep, dragging me into a black void where breath is a memory. The current rakes its claws down my spine. Pressure wraps my ears, my vision narrowing as the river pulls me under. Then I see it—the wreckage of Sage’s truck sinking, headlights flickering like dying fireflies.
I’m coming, Sage.
She’s still strapped in, suspended in the dark, her hair moving in slow, eerie waves. Her body too still. Too goddamn still.
A slow, creeping fear slithers through my chest. The kind that turns men into animals. I’m not losing her. This river already stole my sister, then less than a few months later my parents. It’s not getting Sage, too.
I kick forward, fingers numbing as I grasp the safety tool in my hand.
Moments later, I reach Sage’s truck. My first swing glances off the window, the impact rattling up my arm. My vision darkens at the edges, but I grit my teeth and try again.
The glass fractures. Then bursts.
Water rushes in, a violent surge, trying to rip us both away. I lunge, grabbing for her, but the seat belt—fucking hell, it’s jammed. Flipping the tool in my grip, I slice through the strap in one clean motion. I pull her weightless frame into my arms.
The river wants her. Wants both of us. But I don’t let go.
Lungs burning, arms screaming, I kick upward, hauling her with me. The current fights, a relentless bastard, clawing at my ankles.
I break the surface, then—air. Taking her with me, I barely feel the rain that hammers down like bullets.
Realization rips through me. She’s not breathing.
I force myself forward, every stroke a brutal fight against the current. The mud sucks at my legs as I carry her onto solid ground, my knees slamming into the earth.
Ear to lips. Nothing. I pump my hands against her chest, begging her to wake up. “Come on, Wildflower.” And then—a violent, shuddering cough.
Water spills from her mouth. Her whole body convulses, each inhale a battle she’s too stubborn to lose. Relief hits so hard I almost laugh. Almost.
My hand finds the back of her neck, fingers pressing against damp skin, grounding myself in the fact that she’s still here. Still breathing.
Thunder snarls overhead. My eyes flick to the river to where Samuel’s truck is almost fully submerged.
Sage follows my gaze, her breath hitching. She doesn’t speak.
Reaching for the ball of denim next to us, I rummage in the pocket, my fingers closing around my medallion. Should I save him? I already know no matter what the chip decides, there is only one acceptable answer. “Heads, he lives. Tails, he dies. You choose, Sage.”
I hand over the chip, and she pauses for a second before tossing it into the air. It spins, catching the brief flicker of storm light before landing in her palm. Her fingers curl weakly around it before she reveals it to me.
I peek down at the outcome, and a menacing grin tips my lips, but before Sage can see it, I cover her open palm with mine, concealing Samuel’s fate.
“Wanna see what your gamble got you, baby?”
Her breath hitches, eyes darting to mine before latching onto the chip.
“Call the sheriff,” I murmur. “Tell him there was an accident.”
Her grip tightens. Nails biting into my skin. “Kade.” She doesn’t finish. Doesn’t have to. Her eyes say everything. She knows. Knows exactly what’s about to happen. I just hope she can live with her choice.
Then, I stand and wade back into the river. The water reaches for me, pulling, clutching, trying to wrench me down to where Samuel is. It’s thick, churning with secrets, eager to swallow another sinner whole. But I don’t fight it.
I go willingly.
Because I know where I’m headed—straight to the gates of hell to hand deliver Samuel like a fucking Amazon package.
As I draw closer, his truck sinks like a steel corpse, headlights flickering as if the machine itself knows it’s dying. A frantic swirl of bubbles escapes from the cab, a last-ditch, pitiful attempt at life that won’t make a damn difference. He’s losing air, and I’ve never loved watching something die so much in my life.
Almost there.
My muscles scream as I fight against the current, pushing myself closer, deeper. My lungs ache, but I don’t give a fuck. I reach the driver’s side, fingers curling around the door handle, holding it in place.
Lightning illuminates the sky, followed by the rattle of thunder, covering the truck’s flooded cab in a sick, fleeting glow. And there he is, a pathetic, twitching animal, his face distorted in terror, wide eyes bulging, mouth already gasping for air that no longer exists. There’s only one thing that matters now, and that’s the moment I press my hand against the glass and watch his worthless, pathetic existence drown.
I smile.
He pounds against the window with shaking hands, his movements clumsy, sluggish, desperate. Every punch lands with a weak, muffled thud. I imagine he thought he’d go out fighting, that he’d have one last shot at clawing his way out, but reality is so much crueler than fiction.
And I want him to feel that.
His chest heaves, every muscle in his body straining to escape the inevitable, but it’s already happening. I can see it in his eyes. He knows. He fucking knows. The moment is coming, the second his body realizes there’s no air left, that the water will flood his lungs whether he wants it to or not .
And God, I want to see it.
The raw, violent fear. The moment his body betrays him. The absolute fucking devastation when he understands this is how it ends—alone, helpless, cold, choking on the same fate he tried to force on Sage. A beautiful kind of justice.
I press my shoulder against the door, pinning it shut, my grip tightening on the handle like a vise. I’m not letting go until I’ve had my fill.
He stares at me through the glass, his eyes pleading, his lips moving around words I can’t hear. Maybe he’s begging, maybe he’s cursing me, maybe he’s praying. It doesn’t matter. No one is listening.
Lightning burns the sky again, and I raise my hand, extending a single middle finger against the glass, letting the storm’s reflection carve the moment into permanence. This is the last thing you get to see, Sam. A fitting goodbye for a worthless piece of shit.
The last pocket of air in the cab collapses in on itself, spiraling up toward the surface, and I watch, fascinated, as his body fights against the inevitable. His hands scrabble, nails scraping at the window, legs kicking in a wild, useless frenzy. The panic hits him full force, and it’s beautiful.
His lungs give in. His body spasms violently, one last desperate fight, and I watch, mesmerized, as the oxygen is stolen from his lungs, his expression shifting from rage to terror to an agonizing, slack-jawed vacancy .
The body doesn’t lie, not in the end.
A dark shudder rolls through me—something I can’t name, something more than relief, more than satisfaction, something deeper and dirtier. I shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am. Shouldn’t feel this deep ache of contentment spreading through my chest. But the cold, merciless thrill of watching the life drain from his eyes settles into my blood like a drug I never knew I craved.
Saving Sage is ingrained in me. Nobody hurts her and lives to tell the tale.
For her, I would never hesitate, and I don’t regret a fucking second of it.
Thunder crashes overhead, rattling the river like a beast made of sky and fury, and my lungs finally scream for oxygen. I can’t stay here forever.
I force myself to break the moment, to put the mask back on, to turn this into something salvageable. I pretend to fight against the door, pretend to struggle with the handle, my movements deliberate, frantic, calculated. I smash the window just late enough.
I lunge forward, grab his collar, and haul his dead weight toward me.
The river laughs, its current taunting me, as if daring me to let him sink into the black. And fuck, I want to. I want to let him rot down here with the fish and silt; let his bones scatter and his body disappear into nothing.
But I need a body .
I need a hero’s effort.
I kick toward the surface, towing his corpse with me, playing the part to perfection.
The night rips open as I break through the water, sucking in a raw, desperate breath, rain slashing down like razors.
The sirens are closer now, blaring in a cacophony of righteous fury. Flashing red-and-blue lights slash across the storm, painting the world in shards of crime scene colors.
And Sage. She’s there. Standing in the rain, drenched and shaking, eyes locked on me, mouth parted as if she doesn’t know whether to cry or collapse.
My limbs feel like fucking stone as I haul Samuel’s lifeless weight toward the riverbank, his dead arms tangling, catching on rocks, resisting every movement like a defiant corpse. I drop him onto the mud and collapse beside him, coughing, gasping, and giving in to the exhaustion.
Sage stumbles toward me, my phone still gripped in her white-knuckled hand, cops shouting behind her, flashlights slicing through the rain.
I let my hands shake. Let my breathing stutter. Let my voice crack on the right notes. “I… tried…” I rasp, my whole body trembling in perfect, rehearsed devastation. “He—he went under.”
Theatrics, Kade. Make them believe it.
The sheriff kneels beside me, pressing two fingers to Samuel’s throat. He shakes his head. “He’s gone. ”
Thank. Fuck.
Sage sags into me, her weight pressing against my side, her breath still too shaky, too real. “It all happened so fast,” she whispers, voice barely a thread of sound. “It was… an accident.”
And just like that, it is.
The storm covers a multitude of sins.
The paramedics lift Sam’s body, but I don’t look. I don’t have to.
Good riddance to bad rubbish. The last loose thread.
I press my forehead to Sage’s, breathe her in, soak in the way she fits against me like she belongs here, like this moment isn’t built on carnage and death and the best goddamn lie we’ve ever told.
Lightning flashes, and I catch my reflection in the puddle at my feet. Dark, savage, victorious. But I bury it.
I press my lips against her damp forehead, my voice barely a whisper against her skin. “The medallion never makes the choice—the gambler who flips it does.”