29. Jasper
TWENTY-NINE
JASPER
If we were shooting at cans in the backyard, I’d be impressed at how each and every bullet Carter and I shoot find a way to land in the same exact place, like they have minds of their own, and choose to mirror each other’s path.
If we were shooting at squirrels in the woods, I’d make fun of Tyson because he’s not the best shot, his bullets always straying at the very last second and landing somewhere that does the least amount of damage.
Except, we’re not shooting at immobile objects or woodland creatures, our targets are launching bullets right back at us, and neither of them are helping.
To no fault of Carter’s, we’re hitting the same places, but not injuring or eliminating the men on the opposite side of the parking lot, instead, giving them the chance to regroup and lay down cover fire while we reload.
Even though I’ve always known Tyson isn’t the best with guns, if he could hit the car consistently, we’d be better off, but when I steal a glance at him, the shakiness in his hands indicates something more sinister is happening in his mind, and judging by the paleness in his face, I’m about to lose him altogether.
Just as I switch tactics, aiming for the guy in Tyson’s line of fire, one shot rings louder than the rest, and a scream that’ll haunt my dreams echoes in the air, hanging over my head like a dark cloud.
Every fantasy we’ve ever conjured comes crashing down, and a heavy dose of reality replaces those ideas of happily ever after as the girl I love collapses to the ground, gushes of blood pooling around her body.
“Carter! Carter, you better stand the fuck up and fight. I know you can do that!” I shout, keeping my focus locked in on the man hiding behind the passenger door.
The seconds pass like minutes as I wait for her to speak, move, or even cough to let me know she’s okay, but nothing comes.
Tyson lands beside her, a cloud of dust kicking up as his body lands next to hers, his hands immediately covering his face.
“Fuck!” I dismount my gun, the anger searing through my veins like hot lava, and without backup or cover, I shoot at the SUV until the firing from the passenger side stops, and a set of legs drop to the ground.
Without Carter, none of this means anything.
This life.
This gunfight.
This next breath.
None of it matters without her, and I’ll be damned if I don’t honor her wishes, but first, there’s one motherfucker still breathing free air that needs to be dealt with.
Moving from the safety of the car, I stalk across the parking lot until I reach the SUV, finding one lone man tucked on the floor of the driver's side.
His gun is pointed at me from where the window once was, but I pay him no mind, almost challenging him silently to pull that fucking trigger.
“You dumb son of a bitch.” I charge at him, knocking the pistol out of his hands and aiming the barrel of my automatic at his forehead. “Who hired you, and how many more are coming?”
“Go to hell,” he spits, a loogie landing the dirt near my feet, and my vision goes black, my body shifting into autopilot as every molecule feigns for one thing: revenge.
“I’ll see you there.” I smirk, cocking my head to the side as I watch a single bullet enter through his skull and come out the other side, his brain matter splattering across the black leather seats.
Thoughts of Carter, lying bloody and lifeless on the ground, come to me in a flash, like a whirlwind of images meant to knock me off my feet, but instead, I lift the gun once more, firing shots until what was once a man’s face becomes nothing but bones and burger meat.
Nothing beats the high of a kill, but when it comes at the expense of the most precious thing I’ve ever had, it doesn’t exhilarate me in the ways it should, and I fight the urge to break down by taking out every emotion known to man on the corpse responsible.
“Jasper, can you stop playing around? As much as I’d love a new toy, we need to fucking go!” I hear from behind, and I swear I give myself whiplash, ripping my finger off the trigger just as I meet a set of baby blue eyes I’d recognize in my wildest nightmares.
“Principessina?” I say stupidly, taking her in as if this is the last time I’ll ever see that pretty face again.
Her hair is tangled and matted with blood, blowing in the wind and leaving tiny droplets of crimson on her skin like the freckles that dance along the bridge of her nose.
The navy blue t-shirt Tyson dressed her in is ripped to shreds, being used as a makeshift tourniquet on her right arm, but the blood has soaked through, allowing streaks to form a path down to her wrist.
At the sight of her – albeit dirty, disheveled, and down right terrifying – I drop to my knees, the gun landing with a thud in front of me, but all I can do is let the world fade to black around us, locking eyes with my Angel of Death, the very Ice Princess that thawed my previously cold, dead heart.
“Carter, you’re alive?” I manage to say, watching as she meets my stance, her delicate, yet murderous, hands cupping my cheeks, forcing me to believe that this is real.
“Just a flesh wound,” she winks, pulling us both to a standing position and slamming the gun into my chest, forcing my hands to remember how to work.
“Dramatic as hell for just a flesh wound, Carter,” I snark, gathering my bearings and guiding her across the parking lot, keeping my eyes peeled for any signs of reinforcements.
“Contrary to how reckless you are, this is my first time being shot. Excuse me for passing out, something I recall you doing multiple times when you got hit in the same exact place.” She rolls her eyes, a playful smile cascading across her perfect lips, and normally I’d sass her right back, but just breathing at the same time as her is a gift, something I’m not ready to give up the joy of.
“You did amazing, my little soldier,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head as we crouch down to Tyson’s level in an attempt to bring him out of this panic attack.
“Tyson, look at me. It’s Carter. I’m okay,” she whispers, taking his face gently just as she did to me, and within a few seconds he comes back to life, lifting his head and meeting her gaze.
It’s not lost on me that her touch saved us both, quite literally brought us out of our own trances, all in reaction to the thought that we’d lost her for good.
She’s always been our gift from the universe, and today only served as a reminder of how deeply she’s nestled into our souls, how buried into our bones she truly is.
If I were to drop dead right this second, I’m certain that one touch, one brush of skin, hell, even one second in her orbit would be my personal defibrillator, the very thing that would bring me back to life.
“Carter? Massi?” He stutters, exasperated breaths leaving his chest in rapid succession, but Carter only nods, placing one hand over his heart, and slowly, he moves to mimic her movements until their fingers are intertwined.
“We’re here, brother. We’re all in one piece,” I say, and once his eyes meet mine, the dark brown in his irises begins to return, his body readjusting to reality.
“We need to move. Are you okay to get up, Tyson?” Carter asks, slightly nodding her head to the other side of him, and I follow her silent command, ready to assist in whatever ways they need.
“Did you get shot, Carter?” He roars, fully back to life as he jumps off the ground, his feet shaking the Earth while he regains his balance and snatches Carter’s arm by the elbow.
“It’s nothing serious. Jasper can patch me up and I’ll be good as new,” she sugarcoats, wincing as his hand travels toward the tourniquet, the surrounding flesh sensitive – something I know all too well.
“Jesus Christ, Carter! You can’t just play fast and loose with your fucking life. Don’t you understand that? That we’d be fucking nothing without you!” He shouts, his voice echoing off the trees, and Carter steps back, protecting herself by cocooning her midsection with her good arm.
Something about this, his anger and her fear, don’t sit right with me, but when I look into my brother’s eyes, a pitch black shade in his irises has taken center stage, the devil within replacing the usual brown color with pure darkness.
“She was shot, Ty. It wasn’t your fault, or mine, and especially not hers. We’re going to clean her up and count our lucky fucking stars that we’re not burying her corpse, but you will not yell at her again,” I assert, stepping between them and forcing him to see me, not her.
Letting his fears dictate how this goes, especially after the beast that emerged in Manhattan last winter, won’t fix this situation, make our lives in any less danger, or magically heal the wound on our girl’s arm.
While I do understand where he’s coming from, the amount of times we’ve thought we lost Carter being a relatively high number, I know for certain this one wasn’t intentional, and doesn’t deserve the levels of punishment he likely has running through his mind.
Carter has a tendency to trail off on her own missions, risking her life in the most absurd of ways, but that was in the past, a completely different lifetime, and although I nearly lost my mind at the thought of her dying, I won’t let Tyson do the same.
Now more than ever, we need to protect her, because the hits aren’t going to stop coming, no matter how far away we go.
We’ve been running for days, playing defense and tossing Hail Mary obstacles behind us like banana peels in hopes of getting further away, but if today was any indication, we’re fighting a losing battle, and it’s not even close.
We promised that one day it could be done, saved it as a twisted rainy day activity, but what none of us realized is that day is on the horizon, barreling toward us at full throttle.
It’s time to switch sides, play a little offense, and pray to whatever demon that resides over Hell that we’ll be victorious because in order to survive, we have to cut off the threat at the family ties.
Carter needs to kill her father, once and for all.