Chapter 20 #2
It would be only a moment before he found it.
“You are not going to shoot me. Her life means too much to you, doesn’t it?
” He sneered at Warwick. “And here I thought the mythical Warwick Farkas, who is said to kill without thought or emotion, would be worthy of such praise. I believed we were alike in that way. How sad. Sentiment takes down another legend.” He jammed the gun into my head, trying to get me to budge. “Move.”
I knew Kalaraja wouldn’t leave Warwick alive. He’d probably shoot him in the head the moment I started to walk while Warwick was distracted by me.
“Warwick . . .” I stood next to him, though I hadn’t moved. “Shoot him.”
“He’ll kill you.”
“Why, yes, I will.” Kalaraja answered Warwick’s response to me.
“He’s going to kill me anyway. And if you don’t shoot first, he will kill you as well.” I touched his arm.
“Think I’d go down so easy, princess?” He winked at me. “Not the fuckin’ legend for nothing.”
“Don’t.”
“Too late.” A mischievous grin tugged the side of his mouth.
The pain of the barrel in my temple was sharp. Warwick’s spirit moved beside me now, while his body still sat on the bike, holding the gun on Kalaraja.
“I know you can fight,” Warwick rumbled in my ear. “But this guy isn’t fully human. Take what you need, princess.”
“What?” My mouth parted. That made no sense. He worked for Istvan. He was part of HDF. “Not fully human?” My gaze snapped to Kalaraja.
Kalaraja’s eyes widened. “What did you say?” I could see a wild fear darting his eyes back and forth between mine as if someone just revealed his secret. His thumb pushed down on the trigger.
Our time was up.
“Now,” Warwick yelled at me.
A flood of adrenaline whisked through me.
My body moved with speed, power, and strength I couldn’t even fathom, as if Kalaraja was suddenly in slow motion.
Ducking, I shoved his arm in the air. The ring of the gun discharging sounded far away.
Turning into him, I punched his throat, my knee cracking into his pelvis, bending him over.
My elbow hit his spine, dropping him to the ground, his gun tumbling to my feet.
Swiping it up, I sprinted for Warwick, the engine revving. I was about to climb on when angry voices turned my head to the side, colliding with the one I knew better than my own.
Caden stood rigid with the three soldiers he had been talking to, our eyes locking.
It was only a second of time, but I felt all the emotions in his eyes, like a tragic novel.
Agony, grief, betrayal, hurt, confusion, and worst of all .
. . love. I knew him so well, I understood he was trying to say: Come back to me, I’ll protect you, keep you safe.
We’ll fix it together. Don’t do this . .
. because if you do . . . you can never come back. I love you.
A part of me wanted to. Wanted to run into his arms and hope we could work it all out.
But I was no longer the girl who believed in fairytales.
He had yet to understand I was already past the point of no return. There was no redemption for me. No fixing it.
Sorrow flickered over my features. I’m sorry, Caden. I clamped my jaw and swung my leg over the back of Warwick’s motorcycle.
I could see the utter devastation in his eyes.
The betrayal. The realization I picked the world with fae, a life on the run, over him.
But like me, he was also a well-trained HDF soldier.
Even though he knew Istvan would probably kill me if I returned, Caden was quick to shove the sadness back.
He lifted his head, his eyes narrowing in on me with disgust and hate as he barked orders to men around him. “Get her!”
He’d just declared us enemies.
Warwick gunned the bike, spinning us away from the battle.
Gunshots zinged by, ticking the ground near us.
I turned back to see Kalaraja climbing to his feet, motioning and yelling at the few soldiers Caden had ordered after me. They ran for motorcycles sitting in wait down the street. They jumped on, tearing after us. Kalaraja leading them.
“Hurry.” I gripped Warwick tighter. “We’re about to have company.”
Warwick punched the gas, the bike lurching forward, swerving sharply around objects, bodies, and debris, leading us away from the battle. Glancing back, the four bikes were closing in.
Bang! Bullets licked our skin.
I curved around, firing back, my arm trembling from adrenaline and the harsh movement of the bike, no shot hitting its target. It would only take one of theirs to end this.
“Shit!” Warwick muttered. I looked to see carts and horses up ahead, people preparing for morning market, unaware or not caring about the fight happening down the street. Not when they still had bellies to feed. “Hold on!”
I tightened my hold as the bike squealed, and he detoured down an alley, the bike tires scrambling to keep up. Warwick’s boot planted on the damp ground to hold us from flattening into the cobblestones while pointing us down the slim passage.
Bang! Bang!
Slugs clipped the bike, the alley making us an easy target. This was so much like the night the gang attacked us. Unlike them, Kalaraja was a trained, lethal soldier. His bullet would hit the mark.
I couldn’t let that happen.
The bike tore out of the alley and back onto a smoother street while gunshots rang out behind us, hitting the tailpipe and fender.
“Hold on to me,” I screamed over the engine as another shot pinged off the taillight, blowing it out.
“What?” Warwick peered over his shoulder, eyebrows wrinkling.
I grabbed one of his arms, curling it around my torso. “Hold on.”
Not second-guessing my plan, convinced the next bullet would be embedded in my spine or the back of his head, I pulled one leg up to my chest. Sitting back on my tailbone and twisting, I flung my other leg over, flipping me around with a slight wobble, facing out toward the strife.
“Shit, Kovacs.” Warwick’s grip clutched down on my hip. “You’re fucking nuts!”
“Thought you knew that!” I yanked out my second gun from the back of my pants, the figures chasing us in full view now. “Come on, assholes . . .”
I lifted both arms and shot. The blasts rang out through the abandoned streets, one hitting the tire of a soldier’s bike.
The damp street caused it to slip out of his control, the sound of metal squealing across the ground, his body slamming into an old fire hydrant with a fatal blow.
The other soldier peered back at him, but Kalaraja didn’t take his eyes off me.
I was his target. Nothing else mattered. I doubted he had ever failed to get his mark.
He’s not fully human.
His gun rose, pointed at me.
Bang!
“Warwick!” I yelled in warning, my emotions plunging into him. He snapped the bike to the side, but it was too late.
Pain burst through me as the bullet drove into my stomach, tearing through flesh and bone.
In shock, I looked down at my hip. Red painted my white T-shirt. The hole in my side was near where Joska knifed me.
Fuck.
This was not how I wanted to die. Just another kill for the Lord of Death. I could see Istvan learning the news with a false breath of sadness, but then he’d nod his head unemotionally and thank him for a job well done. No longer a problem, he’d tell himself it had to be done.
Anger curled my lip, adrenaline pouring into my veins, numbing any pain I might have felt and helping me ignore the warm blood absorbing into my T-shirt, and the sense that my insides were splintering and dying. All my agony vibrated under the surface until I felt nothing but rage and vengeance.
Warwick raced across the Savage Lands, weaving and zigzagging us through the dilapidated and falling buildings, wind and loose hair striking at my face like whips.
I pointed the guns at my targets. I fired both guns, bullets recoiling from the chamber in repetition as I narrowed my attention on the three left.
My bullet went straight through the head of one guard who tipped off his bike, the machine skidding across the pavement, creating sparks in the dull morning light. His limp form rolled into the middle of the street, where he’d be left to be picked apart by scavengers, both animal and human.
Bang!
Another blast of pain wrenched through me, my lungs wheezing for air, but I didn’t look down. It didn’t matter. I knew I was going to die, but I was going to take Kalaraja with me.
The guttural need to protect Warwick, keep him safe and alive, helped me bring my weak arms up again. They did not tremble. My hatred and wrath fueled me from deep within.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A bullet hit Kalaraja’s shoulder, jerking him back, but it only seemed to piss him off. He snarled at me.
Yeah, fucker, the feeling is mutual.
A bullet clipped the ridge of Warwick’s bicep from the final guard.
Hell no. A cry of fury burst from my mouth, sounding like a madwoman. I killed the final guard, bullets also spraying into Kalaraja, his body slipping off his bike and tumbling to the ground. The last two targets neutralized.
With relief, I eased back into Warwick, my arms dropping, feeling a heavy sigh trying to come up my throat. It was raspy, and I knew liquid was filling my lungs.
Rain clouds covered the sky, but it felt as if it was getting darker, not lighter, as the morning grew older.
“Kovacs?” Warwick’s head turned to me, the rumble of his voice against my back. I felt cold, terribly cold, except where he touched me. I wanted to curl into his heat, let his body wrap around me. “Hey.”
My mouth didn’t want to work.
So cold . . .
“Kovacs?” His voice rose, his bulk turning more, his hand gripping my side tighter. Blood resembling strawberry jam began to drench us both.
“Holy fuck!” He yanked his hand away, looked at it, then back to me.
So, so cold and tired. I just wanted to sleep.
“Fuck. No! Kovacs, you hold on. I need you to hold on for a little longer.” A long string of swear words hissed under his breath, the bike revving higher, the vibration only lowering my lids. I could not keep my eyes open.
“Stay with me.” He wrapped his arm back around me tighter.
Everything started to feel like a dream. Was I awake? Was I sleeping? I no longer knew.
But the call to close my eyes and let the darkness take me warred with the cries of my name.
“Kovacs!” His voice made me want to hold on, to reach out and let him take my hand, pull me back, but a strong force tugged me down a river.
I could no longer fight the current. “Don’t you fucking give up on me now.
I won’t let you.” His voice sounded closer.
“You survived Halálház, you endured torture and the Games . . . You can survive this . . .”
I sank further down into the abyss.
“Brexley.” The sound of my first name circled around my heart, the slice of pain I could hear in it. “Please . . .”
I wanted to obey, but the tide carried me away, breaking up his words and drifting them away from me.
l let myself go under.
No longer cold.