Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
CARA
I t took me a moment to realise the key Cooper left on the table was for my handcuffs. I reach for it in a panic, trying to hook my foot around the leg of the table to pull it closer, my vision blurry through the tears.
Simon’s grip tightens around my hair, pain prickling on my scalp.
Flailing, I watch helplessly as the drugs in Ezra’s system start to take hold.
His large body sways, his eyelids heavy.
Lenora continues to talk, but I’ve blocked her out, uncaring of what she has to say as desperation to run to Ezra strangles me.
My throat is dry, my lungs struggling to take in a full breath.
I don’t think; I just act. Kicking Simon between his legs, he wails, letting go of my hair and stumbling into the table as he cups his crotch.
The key clatters across the floor as he grips the metal edge to stay upright.
I curse myself for not thinking of it earlier as I awkwardly unbuckle my glove and slip out of my prosthetic.
My hand slides out of the cuff easily. I scramble for the key to get my other wrist free, pain searing through my shoulder as I stretch it to its limit.
Shoving it into the lock, I free myself and clamour across the floor to Ezra’s side.
I welcome the bullet from Lenora’s gun should she choose to follow through with her threat as I feel his clammy skin against my palm.
I struggle to hold his broad muscular frame against my body as the last remnants of life seeps out of him.
“Ezra, please wake up,” I plead but get no response, lowering my trembling lips to his, my chest tight as nausea unfurls in my belly.
“Ezra, I said wake up,” I demand more forcefully.
Willing him to chastise me for my bratty tone.
But still nothing. Hollowed out, a numbness skitters through my extremities, the monotonous tick of the clock affirming as each second without him passes.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting that; any other body parts you’re missing, Little Miss Houdini?
I guess I don’t know everything.” Her cackle is like nails on a chalkboard as I shudder, the tears streaming down my raw cheeks halting as a blaze of rage descends over my vision, the numbness lifting as a sheen of sweat coats my skin.
Gripping onto the tatters of what remains of my humanity, I bend, laying a trembling kiss on Ezra’s cheek before settling his head on the ground.
Clenching my firsts, I run at her, getting in one good hit and hopefully breaking something.
I don’t know what Simon hits me with as I spot his bat discarded by the hearth fire in my peripheral, but in a flash, I’m on the floor, my eyelids heavy, the likelihood of another serious concussion at this point added to the laundry list of damage my body has already endured.
I make a note to tell future Cara to take some ibuprofen.
The hit wasn’t hard enough to knock me out, but it is enough to incapacitate me.
The room around me blurs, their voices muffled as my brain struggles to process everything.
The dirt and debris from the floor cakes my cheek, the mixed scent of my burnt flesh from my branding and the spilt blood decorating the room filling my nose.
“Ezra,” I whimper, not knowing whether I’ve even spoken his name aloud.
There’s a blissful comfort to feeling this catatonic, my hand trembling as I reach over, barely brushing against his cooling skin.
Unshed tears blur my vision of him as he lays motionless inches from my face.
I can’t muster the energy it would take to wipe them away.
Gasping for air, I suck down the pain, burying it away out of sight.
Groaning, I drag myself closer to him and drape myself around his torso like a shield.
Reality claws at my fuddled senses, screaming at me that he’s gone, but I refuse to listen.
The burden of my grief settles heavy in my gut, my limbs weightless as I knot my fingers into his torn-open shirt.
I have never spoken to God; I’ve never seen the point.
My life has always been more in keeping with that of the devil than any higher power promising grace and forgiveness, but as I lay here, feeling more alone than I ever have before, I vow to trade my life for his, to give everything I have just to see his chest rise and fall one more time.
We’ve come too far for this to be our end.
“Breathe, dammit. Please…” My broken plea is a fractured, pitiful sound. The storm of emotion feels like tar as it paints my insides a murky black, the walls of my sanity closing in and threatening to pull me under the surface as I drown in my misery.
Pressing my cheek to his chest, I ignore the ache that feels like an iron grip around my heart. I close my eyes, and on a choppy exhale, release the plea that holds more strength than I thought possible in this moment.
“Take me with you.”