5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Blaze
The screaming is getting annoying.
So fucking annoying.
It's not giving me satisfaction, and it's ruining the moment. I'm working hard, and the harpy is interrupting me.
I really don't understand why she's behaving as if I'm the monster here. I'm not doing this to her. She did this to me, and these are the consequences of her actions.
My blade feels hot in my hand, the smooth handle slick with blood.
A weak voice whispering in the back of my awareness keeps reminding me that this isn't what Sparkles would want, but fuck, she's not here to stop me, is she?
Blaise is gone too.
After months of struggling against him, I finally won.
My head is clear of his infernal second-guessing. I'm free of those simpering questions I had to ask myself all day, every day: Is this right? Is this wrong?
Now there is only the sweet bliss of silence.
Except…
'Blaise?'
My knife slips out of my hand, and the blade stabs into the Beta’s thigh.
"Ah! You sadistic fuck!" she screams, but the sound reaches me from far away, muffled beneath the sudden roar in my ears.
For one stupid second, I think he’s come back.
Blaise.
Soft, useless, annoying Blaise, crawling up from whatever dark corner grief shoved him into.
My hand clamps around the knife handle, and I rip it free from the Beta’s thigh. She screams again like I've killed her, but the wound isn’t deep. It won’t end her life. I won’t let her bleed out like…
Like…
‘Blaise!’
I freeze.
Because that isn’t Blaise.
I know his voice. I’ve lived with him in my skull for years. That fucker is all whiny tones and guilty little protests, and this voice doesn’t belong to him.
It’s brighter, bossier, and warmer in a place inside me that went cold when the bond tore apart.
‘Stop ignoring me!’
The blade trembles in my grip as sticky warmth slides over my knuckles. I stare at the red rivulets.
I wipe the blade clean and shove it back into the sheath strapped to my thigh.
I’m used to voices in my head. Blaise. Blaze. Pack bonds. Halley’s telepathic little trick making all of us more connected than any of us deserved.
This is not that.
It can’t be her.
It’s… it’s… it’s fucked up, is what it is!
I’m hearing my dead Omega’s voice in my head like our bond never broke.
Dead.
She is dead.
I watched her go still. I felt the bond rip out of my chest and the light leave with her.
It’s not her.
'Blaise, what are you doing?'
My throat works around the lump of emotion balling up there. A laugh tries to crawl out but dies halfway up.
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
It sounds like my Sparkles and I fucking hate it.
"You’re not her," I whisper, and the Beta beneath me starts crying harder.
'Could you stop tormenting my killer for a moment and talk to me? Blaise?'
"Blaise isn't here right now, sweetheart."
The Beta woman's eyes somehow go even wider, and her sobbing amplifies. Apparently, an assailant talking to themselves is scarier than any slice of my blade.
Interesting.
I'll make a note of that for next time. And there will be a next time. There is no reason for me to behave, to be good, to rein myself in.
He's gone.
She's gone.
Dead.
Murdered.
‘Blaze,’ the voice says, softer this time.
My name in her mouth ruins me.
Blaze.
Not Blaise.
Me.
It throws me off my game, and my eyes flutter in confusion. I can’t make sense of why her voice sounds warm instead of horrified.
I know she said she loved me as much as Blaise, but I never truly believed her. I thought she tolerated me because I came attached to the sweeter half of us. Because loving him meant putting up with me.
But she says my name like I’m someone she wants.
Like she came looking for me on purpose.
Fuck, I need to focus.
I shake my head, trying to knock the voice loose, but it keeps rattling around inside my skull with her exact tone, attitude, and impossible light.
"You’re not her," I snap. "My Sparkles is dead. She’s dead."
‘Yeah, about that. I’m not.’
My breath catches in a mangled, ugly sound that makes the Beta flinch beneath me.
The lie stings.
I don't believe it.
I don't.
But I want to.
"Shut up," I grit out. "Shut up, shut up."
I turn back to my victim because looking at her is easier than listening. Her blood is real and so is her fear.
The voice pretending to be my dead Omega is not real.
Neither is the hope that comes with it.
Hope is a trap.
The Beta is bleeding from a hundred shallow cuts, shaking against the restraints, making all the usual little sounds people make when they're truly, completely terrified. I need it. I need her crying and begging and dragging air through her teeth because if she’s loud enough, she might drown out the impossible voice tucked into the ruined place where my bond used to be.
‘Blaze,’ Sparkles says again.
"Nope," I whisper. "Absolutely fucking not."
I grab the pliers from the maintenance box. They’re rough and greasy in my hand, and the Beta starts pleading for mercy before I even touch her.
Good.
Perfect.
Louder would be better.
‘Would you put that down, you cockwomble?’
The pliers freeze in my grip.
My chest clenches around the word.
"Don’t call me that."
‘What, cockwomble?’
I squeeze my eyes shut, and my teeth grind until my jaw pops painfully.
Knox called me that first, back when Scorch Squad was new and none of us knew how to be brothers yet. It started as an insult, then turned into something like a pet name. It's a stupid, made-up word with too much weight, and her saying it now feels like she is mocking the wreckage that is our Pack.
It's a kick in the balls.
'Stop acting like one and I'll stop calling you one, you giant cockwomble.'
"Fuck!"
With a frustrated yell, I slam the pliers onto the metal table, the jarring noise echoing as the other tools tumble to the floor.
The Beta sobs louder. It still doesn't drown her out.
'No. Listen to me.'
"Fuck off!" I roar.
'Cockwomble.'
I cover my ears and shake my head.
'Just come outside. Come see me, yeah? Please. Then I'll stop.'
I suck in a lungful of air, letting my lungs sting as I stretch them to capacity.
She sounds tired, almost as if it's costing her strength each time she speaks.
I don't want that. Even if she's not real, I don't want her to suffer.
Fuck it. I can’t get the job done if my head isn’t in the game, anyway.
I exhale, the air whooshing through my lips.
"You promise?"
My hands drop from my ears.
'Omega's honor.'
I can almost see the goofy little salute she'd give me, and my chest squeezes.
'Blaise, please.'
"Fine," I whisper, because there’s nothing left in me strong enough to refuse her. I could never refuse her anything. "Fuck. Fine."
I adjust the restraints on my captive, pulling the rope tighter than needed without concern for the blood flow to her hand. It’s the one with fingers that pulled a trigger and slaughtered my reason for existing. She can fucking suffer for all I care.
I exit the medical tent, wiping my hands slowly with a rag.
The camp is eerily quiet. Before... before, it was a bustling hive of activity. Now, they're huddled on the other side of the camp, speaking in hushed, disturbed tones, pretending not to watch me.
The scent of blood is still thick in the night air. Even the light breeze can't carry it away.
'They're hiding because some psycho is slicing someone up,' the voice quips.
"No one is stopping me." I shrug and throw the soiled rag to the ground.
I bet Prime Alpha Zero is giving our Pack leeway because he feels guilty for his part in what happened, and I’m not about to ask him to intervene. Let the fucker suffocate on his guilt.
'Stop being a brat and come find me. I need you.'
Another pang in my heart.
Those words. My Sparkles begging me like I can still help her, like I didn’t fail at the only thing an Alpha is supposed to do.
I didn't stop the bullet.
I couldn't…
Now my own fucked up brain is using her voice to torture me.
Cruel. It’s so fucking cruel that I'm impressed with myself.
I slowly pick my way across the camp.
'Frack, would you hurry up? Resurrection isn't easy, you know?'
I roll my eyes and don't speed up. I'll go and visit my dead Omega, look down at her corpse, reassure myself that the voice in my head is the psychotic break I always knew was coming, and go back to my revenge.
Simple. Easy peasy.
The scent of blood, agony, grief, and death is stronger here.
In the dark, I make out Shade crouched over Halley’s body. He’s talking too fast, hands on her shoulders, shaking her like he can annoy death into giving her back.
His head whips up when he hears the crunch of dirt under my boots. His chest heaves, and his eyes are wide enough to confirm the obvious.
Shade has cracked.
"Blaze!" he gasps. "Fuck, come here. I need you to check. Rutting hell, I need you to check."
"What am I checking?"
‘My fine ass,’ the voice in my head giggles.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing at that one.
Shade’s mouth opens, closes, then opens again. "Her heart. I swear on my life, Blaze, her heart is beating."
I stare at him.
Poor bastard. He’s kneeling over our dead Omega, hearing things that aren’t there. Maybe grief psychosis is contagious.
I sigh and shuffle closer, mumbling, "Rut-damn, and they all thought I’d be the first one to crack."
‘Can’t crack what’s already broken, my love. Now do what the handsome Beta says.’
Maybe I’ll have a partner in crime for my violent misdeeds. It’ll be fun to be the sane one for once. I bet there are some fucked-up ideas in that big brain of Shade’s.
I drop to my knees and stare at her for a moment.
"You’re so pretty."
Just as beautiful as the day she stumbled out of that transport vehicle and into our lives. Emotion rises from my gut and into my throat until a thick ball of soul-sucking grief lodges there.
I swallow it, shoving it right back down, as deep as I can get it. Blaise is the emotional one. I don’t deal with that shit.
"Please, brother, just listen. For a second, and then you can go back to... to... your fun."
'Do it.'
I huff and focus my Alpha hearing.
In the distance, I can hear the muffled sounds of the evacuation camp.
Their movements are stiff and fearful. An owl hoots from a nearby tree, waking up for its nightly hunt.
A gust of wind sways the branches, and they rustle softly against each other.
Two sets of familiar footsteps move deeper into the forest.
Ba-dum.
Every muscle in my body clenches.
Ba-dum.
No. It’s not possible.
Ba-dum.
'Told ya, you cockwomble.'
Halley is alive.