23. June #5
“Such foreplay, I like it.” He keeps his arms to his sides.
I lick my lips and slide the knife down and over where his heart is located. "Do you recall the time you told me…what was it…I could choose you or death?”
“Vividly.” His wild green eyes stare into mine. “Having second thoughts, are you?”
“Not at all.” I steady my footing. Who’s fucking idea was it for me to wear stilettos?
“Oh?”
“I’d like to give you a similar offer. Back down, or die.”
Simon tips his head. "You can't be serious." He glances in the direction we came. "Did they put you up to this?"
I push the blade through the fitted jacket he’s wearing. It pierces through with ease. “Does it look like I’m joking?” I continue until the tip penetrates his skin.
He stifles a wince and clenches his jaw. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Then I have no other choice.” I push it a little more.
Simon stares at me, really into my eyes. “Do what you have to do.” It’s like he’s accepting this fate because the idea of backing down just isn’t an option.
And because I refuse to accept the possibility of defeat, I apply my weight onto the handle and plunge it into his chest.
Only, a flash of light and a loud cracking stops me in my tracks.
Simon’s expression shifts to confusion, something that I assume matches mine.
Pain ripples through my body, but that makes no sense. I was the one stabbing Simon. How could it be possible for me to be in pain?
I lower my gaze, along with the dagger, wondering how blood could be flowing from my chest instead of his?
Simon reaches forward, and while I expect him to take my weapon, he presses his palm onto the spot seeping red. “June. Fuck. June.”
My legs fail me, buckling out from under my frame.
Simon softens the blow, holding onto me as I diminish to the floor of this elaborate mansion, ruining whatever upholstery I must be gushing onto.
“No, no. Hang on. You’re going to be fine.
” Genuine concern rattles his features, another thing that doesn’t add up. “Help,” he calls out. “Someone help.”
A moment ago, I had a dagger poised on his heart and now, he’s trying to prevent me from bleeding out.
My eyes close against my will, dizziness consuming me, darkness pulling me under.
“Stay with me, June. Come on.” Simon tugs me to his chest.
I cough, the taste of iron filling my mouth. That can’t be good. Each breath is labored and more difficult than the last, like there’s a limited amount of air left in my lungs and there isn’t enough left to survive.
I don’t want to die like this. Here. In his arms. In the arms of the man that was supposed to die.
Him. Not me. But I guess that’s the thing about fate, you have no control over what that bitch has in store.
And for me, this is it. Dying without the three men I love more than anything in this world and with the guy who could potentially take everything from them.
Me along with it.
“Please, I’ll do anything.” Simon brushes my hair out of my face. “June.”
“Promise me…” I can barely spit the blood-soaked words out.
“Anything, just stay with me.”
“Back down.” I cough again. If I’m going to die tonight, I must make sure I go down with a fight, doing everything I can to secure Dominic’s win.
“I concede, do you hear that?” Simon pushes harder in my chest. “June, I fucking give up. Now stay with me, okay? They can have the throne you crazy woman, don’t die on me over it.”
“Get out of the way,” Dominic growls.
A thud hits the wall, people curse, and wind blows against my skin.
“What did you do?” Dominic’s voice grows near.
“J…” Coen drops to the ground next to me.
"I'm going to fucking kill you," Dominic tells what I can only assume is Simon.
"Stop it, please," Magnus yells somewhere between them. "He's probably the only thing keeping her alive. Look."
I try to open my eyes, to see what Magnus is talking about, but everything is heavy, dark, too much for me to control.
The world spins and hot and cold take turns alternating through my body.
My mind only focused on one thing—the words Simon said.
He gives up. And if his word counts for anything, Dominic has officially won, meaning my job here tonight is complete.
It didn’t necessarily go as planned, but the end result was all the same.
With that overwhelming relief, I lose what remaining strength I have to hold on, my entire world fading to black. I do everything I can to claw my way awake, to stay a little longer, but the pull to go into the darkness is far too strong.
“I…” I want to tell them how much they mean to me.
To apologize for taking so long to realize it.
To congratulate them for their win and kiss all of them one last time.
I’d even settle for a hug, or a simple hand squeeze to bid farewell.
Any gesture to make them understand I didn’t want things to end this way—bleeding out in the lap of their enemy.
Instead, I dive deep into the abyss as it welcomes me with open arms.
For once in my life, I don’t want to leave, but I don’t have any other choice than to go.