49. Freya
FREYA
L ight slices into my forehead as I peel my eyes open. I groan, only just managing to roll onto my side before I retch, emptying the contents of my stomach in a lumpy puddle by my face.
The acrid taste burns my throat. I push up against the floor to sitting and it takes everything in me not to throw up again as white hot fire shoots from my thumb up my arm.
My pants leg is sticky with blood. I pause for a moment, catching my breath as I glance around the spinning room. The clock on the oven tells me about twenty minutes have passed since I ran in here to escape Zach.
The house is quiet, no sounds other than my own panting, which means Zach is out there, looking for Harley.
I can’t stay here.
I grit my teeth against the pain as I maneuver myself so I’m leaning against the table leg. Using my bad arm to wedge my shirt to my side I tear a strip of cotton off the bottom.
My entire right hand is swollen and bruised. The thumb is already a deep purple and the pain swims in my head as I tie the material around the wound on my thigh.
Luckily, the bullet only grazed me and once I get myself into a standing position, I find I can still walk. It hurts like a motherfucker but I can do it.
I debate going to get the knife under the bed but even the thought of bending down makes my stomach churn. Just making it the few feet to the front door is bad enough.
I lean against the porch and suck in the frosty air, the cold bite clearing my head a little. Slowly, I walk into the woods, trying not to freak out about how quickly I get disorientated.
The trees are spindly and thin, dead branches stretching out to snag at my arms. My teeth chatter against the chill. I hug myself. If Harley’s out in this much longer, she’ll get hypothermia. Please let the guys have found her.
My steps are turning sluggish, my feet tripping on the uneven ground.
Heaviness drags at my eyelids, and they blink shut before I force them open again. Pain radiates up my leg with every step and the back of my head throbs like someone’s hammering at my skull. I’m not sure how much farther I can go when River’s shout hits my ears.
I stop walking and tilt my head as I listen. There.
Relief floods through me, turning to adrenaline in my veins, and I pick up speed. I barrel through the woods, just barely having the sense to slow down as I approach the voices.
I’m ready to run into River’s arms when Harley’s cry rips through the forest.
My veins freeze. No, no, no. I go slow, taking cover behind the trees as I peer out.
Fuck.
The guys are in a standoff with Zach. He’s ducked down low behind a large fallen tree trunk. Harley’s standing beside him, facing the guys, while Zach presses a gun to her back. The fucking coward is using her as a shield.
River has his gun raised but he can’t shoot without risking hitting Harley and the guys are in the worst possible position. All of them are in front of Zach and Harley. They can’t move to surround him without Zach noticing.
But I’m behind them.
If I had my gun, I could just shoot him, but I have nothing. Not even a fucking knife.
Harley’s body wracks and Zach grabs her ankle.
A thin layer of hardened snow covers the ground and Harley’s socks are soaked through. God that must hurt.
I look around for something, anything I can use and settle on a broken branch. It’s about the width of a baseball bat. I ease the makeshift weapon off the forest floor and grasp it with my good hand, then I creep out into the clearing.
“Come on Zach, let’s make this easy,” River calls. He’s too busy trying to get Zach to surrender to notice me but Eli’s gaze darts my way. I’m about thirty yards away from Zach and Harley. I nod my head towards them and start walking.
Ever so slightly, Eli dips his chin.
Twenty-five yards.
River’s seen me now. His shouts cover the crunch of my footsteps.
Twenty.
The side of my face throbs, the vision in my left eye blurry from my swollen cheek.
I take another agonizing step.
A branch cracks under my foot.
Zach’s head whips around, a knife in his hand in seconds. I freeze as the blade leaves his fingers.
And then a body collides into my side and I’m flying.
We crash against the snow. I gasp as the air leaves my lungs, heavy limbs pinning me down. I struggle, rolling the person on top of me onto their back. The guys are still across the clearing.
Long ginger hair tangles in my fingers and my stomach bottoms out. No.
Allie stares up at me, eyes wide as her hands clutch the knife buried in her abdomen. The knife Zach threw at me .
“Why would you do that?” I scream at her, my hands joining hers on her stomach as I press around the hilt of the knife.
Allie gasps. “Not gonna… let you die.”
Tears burn my eyes. This is the same girl who took the fall when we were kids. Allie may not be normal but her base line is and always has been protecting me, even when I promised it would be the other way around.
“You’re going to be okay,” I swear, even as blood pools over my fingers.
“Freya…” Allie coughs. “The knife. Harley.” She tries to pull out the knife but I bat her hands away.
“You pull that out and you’ll die,” I yell.
She grabs my wrist. “Help. Harley,” she says again and with a flooding dread I realize what she means.
“No. No!”
Her eyes crease as she fights the pain. “It’s the… only.” Gasp. “Way.” She tries to smile up at me, the way she used to when we were teenagers, and she was teasing me over a crush I had on my teacher. “You know I’m right.”
“No,” I say again, pushing harder on her stomach.
Jude shouts my name across the clearing and all the sounds I’d been blocking out rush back in.
“Let her go, Zach,” River orders. “You can’t win this one.”
Jude moves like he’s going to cross the clearing to get to me, but Zach tears the gun away from Harley and fires. The bullet hits the frost crusted ground in front of Jude. He stops.
Harley whimpers. Zach hooks his arm around her waist, holding her back. He jabs the gun into her side, hidden behind the trunk so River can’t get a clear shot.
Allie tugs weakly on my wrist. “Let me help.”
My eyes drop to the wooden hilt of the hunting knife, just like the one our father used. “I can’t,” I say, the words splitting me in two.
“Freya,” Eli calls across the woods and then he shouts just two words. “Tom Richter!”
My brain clamps down on the name. On the story Eli told me. Tom Richter is the first man he killed. Suicide by cop. Tom killed his hostage and came out guns blazing. Eli’s telling me Zach’s going to do the same.
He’s going to kill Harley.
I tear my gaze away from Allie and find Eli.
He nods.
I look at Harley. Her small body shaking in fear.
Droplets fall from my cheeks onto Allie’s blood-soaked top. “It’s okay, Annie,” she whispers.
I shake my head even as I curl my fingers around the hilt of the knife. “It’s not. It will never be okay,” I choke on the words.
Then I do the unspeakable. I pull the knife out of my sister’s stomach and spin.
The blood coated blade leaves my hand with the flick of a wrist. My broken thumb screams but if there’s one thing my father taught me, it’s how to use a knife.
My aim is true and the blade sinks into Zach’s neck like butter.
He falls to the side, losing his grip on Harley.
She sprints away from him and I wait just long enough to see Jude scoop her into his arms before turning back to Allie.
I strip off what’s left of my shirt. My body wracks with shivers as I press the wadded-up material over her stomach. “Stay with me, Allie,” I order but her eyes are already fluttering shut.
“Allie!” I scream.
She jolts awake only to fade again, her skin sheet white.
“No. No. No.”
She looks up at me. Rests her palm against my damp cheek. “It’s okay… It’s better this way. I don’t want to be locked up again.” Her lips barely move.
Every single scar on my body aches like I’m feeling each cut all over again. I keep pressure against her wound but the blood doesn’t slow.
“I like that I helped… that I…” she draws in a labored breath, “…did something good.” She coughs. Blood bubbles out of her mouth. Thick and dark.
Her chest bucks once. Then her eyes fall shut and her head lolls to one side.
“No. No, Allie come back. Wake up.” I can’t see through my tears anymore, but I lock my fingers together and press down on her chest. I keep going, pumping up and down. Blood fountains off her stomach, seeping into the frosted ground.
Strong arms circle my waist and try to pull me back, but I fight against them. I need to keep going. Keep her heart beating.
“She’s gone. She’s gone, Freya,” Eli murmurs.
“No!” I scream, jerking in his hold as he drags me back.
My chest splits open. The world swirls around me, my pulse storming in my ears as the air turns too heavy to breathe. The ground falls away. Cities collapse.
She can’t be gone.
My sister can’t be gone.