84. Chapter 84
John
The pain didn’t stay sharp.
It pulsed.
Then dulled.
Then spread.
I lay on my side, cheek pressed into carpet that smelled faintly like cologne and something metallic.
My blood.
I knew that smell now.
Breathing felt… optional. Like something my body wasn’t fully committed to anymore.
I tried to move.
My arm just twitched.
That was all.
Footsteps crossed the room.
Not hurried. Not panicked.
Measured.
“Well,” Trevor said lightly, like we’d just finished dinner. “That didn’t go the way I planned.”
Another voice answered - the man from the couch. Nasal now, thick with blood. “He got lucky.”
I wanted to laugh.
Lucky.
I focused on the ceiling. It swam in and out of view. The room tilted slightly, like I was floating.
I heard the scrape of something heavy being dragged. The broken table, maybe. The gun being kicked away.
Trevor exhaled.
“Clean it up,” he said, voice calm and irritated. “We don’t have much time.”
My mind snagged on that.
Time.
I had to get to the phone.
Cate would be calling.
She’d be worried.
I forced my hand forward an inch.
Two.
My fingers left a smear on the carpet.
My stomach felt… wrong. Not pain exactly. Just heat and wet and pressure.
“You’re already gone,” Trevor said conversationally. “We searched all night.”
I closed my eyes.
He was talking to me.
Or maybe just near me.
“She thinks you left,” he continued. “You should’ve seen her face.”
Something inside my chest cracked.
No.
No, she wouldn’t think that.
She knew me.
She…
“She’ll come around,” Trevor added. “She always does.”
I tried to lift my head.
It felt like lifting a car.
“She loved me first.”
That stupid line again.
Lightning flashed through the window somewhere upstairs. I saw it through the blur. A white flicker against darkness.
I wanted to tell him he was wrong.
That Cate wasn’t a prize.
That she wasn’t something you won by waiting.
But my mouth wouldn’t form words.
I tasted blood.
Hands grabbed my shoulders.
Rolled me.
The world spun violently.
I couldn’t breathe for a second. Then air came back in thin slices.
Something crinkled beneath me.
Plastic.
My arms were pulled behind my back. Rope burned against already raw skin.
I tried to fight.
I think I tried.
My body didn’t cooperate.
“You should’ve stayed put,” Trevor muttered, almost disappointed. “We could’ve made this easier.”
We.
So, there were always two of them.
The other man’s breathing was uneven. Wet.
“Trunk?” he asked.
“Trunk.”
The word echoed in my head.
Garage.
Car.
I felt myself lifted. Not carefully.
My shoulder hit something hard.
My vision went black at the edges, then came back thinner.
Cold air touched my face.
I smelled gasoline.
Rain.
We were outside.
I tried to say her name.
It came out like a cough.
“C…”
My throat filled.
I swallowed blood.
Cate.
I pictured her in the kitchen earlier. Umbrella in hand. Looking for me.
I should’ve turned around.
I should’ve…
They shoved me down.
Metal beneath my back.
Carpet lining.
The trunk.
I heard the lid slam.
Darkness closed in completely.
For a moment there was silence.
Then the engine turned over.
The vibration ran through my bones.
I couldn’t feel my legs anymore.
My fingers tingled, then went numb.
I focused on breathing.
In.
Out.
In…
The car slowed.
Stopped.
Voices again. Quieter now. Echoing.
A door opened.
Cold air rushed in as the trunk lifted.
“Here’s good,” the other man said.
Hands dragged me.
My head struck pavement.
Stars burst behind my eyes.
The pain didn’t feel real anymore.
That was the strangest part.
I expected screaming. Burning. Something unbearable. But instead, it felt… distant. Like my body belonged to someone else and I was only borrowing it for a moment longer.
Rain hit my face.
Cold.
Clean.
I blinked up at the sky and watched it blur into streaks of gray. I couldn’t tell if the water on my cheeks was rain or something else.
Trevor’s shoes stopped beside my head.
“You should’ve just left,” he said quietly.
I tried to speak.
Tried to tell him she hadn’t been stolen. Tried to tell him love wasn’t something you could own. Tried to tell him he didn’t understand her at all.
Nothing came out but blood.
My hand twitched uselessly against the pavement.
Cate.
God, Cate.
I pictured her in the kitchen that morning. Hair pulled back. Bare feet on tile. Laughing at something I’d said the night before.
I should’ve turned around.
I should’ve gone back when she came out with the umbrella.
I should’ve told Seth the truth.
I should’ve…
Trevor exhaled above me.
“Make sure,” he said to someone behind him.
Footsteps moved.
I didn’t look.
I didn’t want the last thing I saw to be him.
Instead, I stared at the sky and let the rain fall into my eyes.
I imagined Cate five years from now. Ten. I imagined her happy. I imagined her safe. I imagined someone kind standing beside her, loving her the way she deserved.
I imagined kids.
A little girl with her laugh.
A little boy who ran too fast and asked too many questions.
I imagined her telling them about me.
I hoped she’d say I was brave.
I hoped she’d say I loved her well.
The world dimmed at the edges.
Sound pulled away first.
Then light.
Then everything else.
My last thought wasn’t fear.
It wasn’t anger.
It was her.
I hoped she never knew how I died.
I hoped she only remembered how much I loved her.
And then…
Nothing.