Roman #2
The guard’s body turns with trained precision and a blade flashes in his hand.
I barely get my arm up in time before it slices across my side.
The fabric of my top gives first before my skin splits open and a sharp line of heat tears through me.
The pain barely lands before I’m moving again.
I grab his wrist and lock it tight. The knife hovers too close to my throat for comfort as his strength pushes against mine.
The guard tries to force it forward, but I step into him instead, driving him hard into the nearest headstone.
The impact cracks through the air.
I lunge on him, using his disorientation against him as I grab his face with my hand through gritted teeth and twist his arm down until I feel it pop.
His knife slips from his fingers as a strangled sound pushes past my hand.
I catch the blade before it hits the ground, flipping it in my grip and shove him back again, pinning him between me and the stone and leaving him nowhere to go.
Then I drive it in.
His body spasms as I feel the warmth of his blood pour out across my hand.
I pull the knife out and plunge again, this time feeling the skin separate under the blade.
Using the grip I have on his face, I pull his neck taut and slice against his carotid artery until the tension drains from his body.
Blood splashes against my mouth and I recoil at the bitter taste of it.
My breath heaves out in exhaustion as I take in stabilising gulps.
I look up to see all the guys have been successful in their kills and I breathe a sigh of relief as I take off toward the front of the church.
My neck feels tight under the tension, and I check my gun as the others follow me.
Without a word, they create a formation behind me and we move as one.
My hand hovers near the door as I push it open just enough to slip inside.
“…should have worked.”
I freeze.
Every muscle in my body locks as I hear my dad’s voice for the first time in ages.
His words carry through the church, clear, sharp and unmistakable.
I shake it off and tiptoe slowly into the church.
The scene in front of me causes me to stop dead.
My dad is aiming a gun at my unborn child and rage burns as I spot my mum take a step toward Fae.
“Everything we did, everything Fisher and I did, it should have worked.”
Fae is frozen, her hands hovering uselessly at her sides, her body angled just enough that I can see the rise of her stomach, and my mum… My mum steps forward.
“No—” the word tears out of me before I can stop it, as I start to run and break free from the shadows.
The gun goes off.
The sound rips through the church and my brain refuses to process what I’m seeing as a body drops to the floor.
My vision fractures; red bleeds into everything, distorting the edges until there’s nothing left but movement and noise and the overwhelming, uncontrollable need to destroy whatever just caused that sound.
“Fae—” I cry out.
I don’t even hear myself say it. I don’t hear anything. My hand is already on my gun, already lifting, already firing before logic can step in, before anything has a chance to slow me down. The first shot hits him square in the chest, snapping his body back, but it doesn’t even register as enough.
I keep going.
Each pull of the trigger is harder than the last. My arm is locked and my aim is unwavering as I empty everything I have into him, watching his body jerk, then stumble, then collapse under the force of it.
He hits the ground and I am already reloading my clip without thinking, driven by something far more violent than anger.
I stand over him.
And I keep firing.
Again.
Again.
Again.
I don’t stop when he stops moving.
I don’t stop when there’s nothing left of him to fight back.
I don’t stop until there’s nothing left in me at all.
“Roman!”
The sound cuts through me like a blade, sharp enough to slice straight through the haze, and everything crashes back in at once.
The ringing in my ears.
The smell of gunpowder.
The thick, metallic weight of blood coating the air.
I blink as my chest heaves but suddenly I can see again. There’s blood everywhere. It’s on my hands, my clothes, the floor, smeared across the marble in dark, spreading pools that reflect the shattered light from the windows, and I can’t tell what’s his and what’s—
“FAE!”
My voice breaks as I turn. My feet move as my body drags me across the church until I drop beside my mum and Fae so hard my knees crack against the stone. Fae is on the floor, curled in on herself, and Mum is tangled slightly underneath her like she’s trying to hold Fae together.
“Fae,” I choke, reaching for her. My hands shake as I try to pull her back, to see, to understand.
“No—stop!” she screams, her voice comes out raw and desperate as her grip tightens and she shrugs me off. Her body locks around my mum like a shield.
I freeze.
Blood.
So much fucking blood is pouring out of her, and my hands shake as I try to run them over her body to stop the flow.
“Why—” Fae’s voice splinters apart as she looks down at Mum. “Why, Fiona… why did you do that to me?”
My heart slams violently against my ribs as I look between them, trying to catch up and make sense of all this, but it refuses to come together. My mum’s hand lifts, slow and weak, as her fingers brush against Fae’s cheek with a tenderness that doesn’t belong in a place like this.
“You deserved to live, sweet girl.” Mum’s voice is thin and fragile as she speaks.
Why does she sound like that when it’s Fae that’s hurt?
“You deserved to be free, sweet girl, to love, to be loved… you deserve that little baby to bring you so much joy.”
My chest caves in on itself.
No.
No, no, no—
“You just have to promise me…” Her eyes flick up to find me. “Promise me you’ll love my little boy too.”
“Mum—” My voice breaks completely as my hands finally find her and I press down uselessly, desperately, against her stomach like I can stop the blood, like I can force it back into her body if I just try hard enough. “No, no, you’re not—don’t—”
“No, you’re not dying. Someone, get help!” Fae screams.
My head snaps up as I see the guys scrambling behind me, but my lungs are burning as I suck in a breath that doesn’t feel like enough.
“Stay with me,” I choke. “Mum, stay with me. Please.”
“Oh, my sweet boy.” She gives me a feeble smile as her bloody hand grabs my face and my features crumple under her touch. “I love you so, so much, do you know that?”