24. Emmett
CHAPTER 24
Emmett
I vy, 13; Emmett, 16
“I bet your dead mother punched better than you ever could.”
Eleven ill-informed, malicious words started this…
Words uttered by an asshole who fucked around and now, he’s about to find out.
In hindsight, I knew Vaughn was baiting me, scenting me out, wanting to go a few rounds with me.
He’d been raring to go since he and his father, one of my mother’s brothers, as well as the rest of the Family, came down to Westbrook Blues last night for a ‘sudden’ visit.
Of course, nothing is ever sudden.
I just turned sixteen a few days ago.
They obviously came down to check if the fucking heir is still upright and functioning since the rumors of my ‘illness’ or whatever it might be have been floating around.
To say Syrus has been working overtime to silence those rumors would be an understatement.
Part of me would like the truth to come out, but I know if that happens, I’ll never find my mother, so when he started pushing me to “act” normal, I did most of the work myself.
So now here I am, punishing a loudmouth for daring to talk about my mother while simultaneously burying the rumors that are actually true.
“Keep your fucking fists up, boy!” a voice snaps from the side of the ring, but I know the instruction is not for me. It never is for me.
No one stands in my corner to cheer me on or give me instructions like the fucker I’m beating the crap out of.
In fact, my corner is always silent and empty—just how I prefer it.
I’m expected to excel beyond the possible. Expected to know, to outperform, outmaneuver, and outsmart every single fucker that might come my way, family or not.
And I always deliver.
Not for them, but for what I plan to do.
I strain my body to keep upright and not topple over even though there’s a loud ringing between my ears unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
My heart is working overtime and I know it’s about to give in, but I don’t dare allow it.
My jaw is bruised and hurts like crazy.
My knuckles are already split open and bleeding. After all, we’ve been at this for just half an hour minutes, but I won’t stop until he's within an inch of his life.
The same chant repeats in my head, for my fucking blotched heart.
No failure, so don’t fucking break.
Dredging air into my lungs, I balance myself, keeping my feet wide apart.
I lock my wrists, keeping them as sturdy as possible, so much so that if I were to be chained right now, I’d drag those too with the blow I’m about to deliver.
I angle my fists, pulling my right arm back as I guard with my left. Then I angle my head low and eye the asshole in front of me.
He’s sporting all sorts of damage himself, but I don’t feel sorry for him. I’ll silence him forever today if I must.
“What are you waiting for?” he taunts again. “Your mommy?—”
Before he can finish that fucking sentence, I take a single step and punch him hard to the temple, then I quickly follow that up with another sucker punch, and before he knows what’s hit him, I give him another punch so hard, I feel something tear open against my knuckles.
I expect the jerk to go down, but he staggers backwards several steps, clearly disoriented, but he stays upright. After all, he’s an Easton, the same rules apply to him.
No weakness.
No faltering.
And definitely no failure.
But I’m not like my cousin.
I’m not governed by those three rules the Eastons have to live by.
I have another set of rules that I swore to my mother I’d always follow, no matter what, and one of them is that I’ll never break.
So now, as Vaughn charges for me, I still my breath, and wait.
Even though I’m in horrible pain, even though I feel like I might give out and die any second now, even though I want to actually give in and die, I don’t.
Don’t break.
Don’t break.
Don’t you dare fucking break.
Vaughn jabs my ribs with an intent to break them, then he follows that with a punch to my temple, but I manage to block that at the last second, and then I use his momentum to pummel his chest.
How dare he, out of his reeking mouth, speak about my mother?
Who the fuck does he think he is to diminish her?
If he had insulted me directly, I wouldn’t even give him a second look, but my mother…
I beat the crap out of him. Blow after blow, my hits getting harder, and before I know it, I seem to zone out.
The next thing I know, I’m being dragged away from my cousin who now lies on the floor of the ring, covering his head while splashes of blood are splattered everywhere.
“Are you out of your mind? Were you trying to kill your cousin?” I hear my uncle seethe, but I don’t even pay him any mind. Instead, I shake off the hold on me, and they immediately let go. I stalk back to my corner of the ring and wait.
Emilio, my mother’s first brother, hops up in the ring and glares at me. “You did all this just because he asked you where your stupid mother is? Are you crazy?”
Keeping my head angled down, I eye him and, immediately, he falls silent and backs away a few steps.
I smirk. “Come on, Uncle, this was just for fun,” I say in a low voice as my heart stutters in my chest.
“Fun?” Emilio throws his head back. “You think killing your cousin in cold blood is fun?”
I eye Vaughn who is now glaring at me. I hold his gaze but answer Emilio. “Maybe your son just needs a little attitude adjustment. His disrespect can’t go unanswered.”
The fear that rocks the room is evident. After all, everyone present knows what just happened was well in my rights as the heir. But the very fact that I hold so much power, above even my uncle, has him almost snapping.
“But he’s your brother! You’re the same age!”
“Are we?” I say sarcastically.
There’s obvious ridicule in my voice. I don’t respect the man and everyone knows it. And because I’m me, my mother’s son and the heir to the powerful, ruthless, bloody throne of the Easton empire, he’s the one that has to respect me. Not the other way around.
“Well…” Emilio falls silent.
Technically, Vaughn and I are the same age, but I’m older… by three days. A fact that rubs both him and his father the wrong way.
“And, Uncle,” I call as he rushes over to check his son. “I am an only child. Remember that.”
If looks alone could kill, Emilio’s angry, bitter glare would’ve made me croak a long time ago, but I hold his gaze.
“Next time, teach your son to watch his mouth.”
My voice is low, almost soft as if I’m comforting them, but inside, my lungs and muscles are screaming in agony… but all that pales in comparison to the actual real threat that pounds sickeningly slow and tortured in my chest.
I need to get out of here and go rest. I overdid it today.
I’m surprised it’s still going even after that…
“You know what, your disrespect toward your elders is getting worse! How dare you speak like—” Emilio starts but cuts himself off immediately when he sees the man standing in the dark corner. I saw him ages ago, but it’s clear that this bastard hadn’t recognized the danger until now. “Uh, Father, you’re here.”
Grandfather doesn’t even spare his son a glance. Instead, he walks slowly, but with powerful strides over to my corner of the ring.
He wears a cold, expressionless look on his face, which is intimidating as hell, but I don’t dare back away or show fear.
He’s wearing a charcoal black suit, paired with a stark white shirt—his usual getup—paired with a rare Gurkha Royal Courtesan cigar hanging between two fingers. The heavy smoke adds some danger to the dusty, misty dungeon of the Easton mansion.
He stops a few feet away from the ring, eyeing me silently.
I eye him back.
It’s like we’re sizing each other up.
The rest of the room has already fallen silent.
Even the groans and pants from my cousin have trailed into nothing but silence at Grandfather’s presence.
He is, after all, the head of the Family. The Big Boss. The man whom I loathe with my entire being.
“He hit you,” he says with a heavy Italian accent.
I hold his heavy stare, never backing down even if I want to strangle him.
“Yes, sir.”
“Why did you let him hit you?”
A shiver goes down my spine, but I suppress it. I already know what’s about to come and I know I won’t be able to get out of it.
“To give him a chance,” I answer clearly. I don’t stutter like I used to. In front of him and the rest of the Outfit, I keep my words level, straight, and intact.
No failure.
No weaknesses.
But most importantly, don’t fucking break.
“To give him a chance?” Grandfather repeats, his voice deepening. “Is it up to you to give him a fighting chance?”
If I were a normal boy, raised in a normal family, with a mind that works as it should for my age, I would behave as normal… but nothing about me, my life or this Family is normal.
“No, sir.”
“So why?” he demands, but his intimidation doesn’t work on me. Sometimes I think he suspects that.
“I did it because I wanted to… sir.” I add that last part at the very last second.
I stand up straight and wait.
I know it’s coming.
It always does.
And it does come.
I sense movement behind me before I hear the sibilant sound and then… thawk!
Fire licks my bare back like an intense inferno.
The hits come down on my back fifteen times in quick succession.
I don’t have time to breathe, nor do I have time to process or brace myself, but mentally I’m not here.
Instead, I stare at the man in front of me, holding his gaze unflinchingly.
It hurts like hell, but fuck that, I’ve dealt with worse. In fact, every heartbeat, I deal with worse, so I take the punishment.
“What’s your mistake?” Grandfather asks after it’s done.
I suck in low pants of air, trying to revive my body as best as I can without actually giving in to the fatigue.
“Playing with the prey,” I mutter through gritted teeth.
“Ah… so you knew you were playing with him for the last half hour instead of dealing with him immediately and effectively?” Grandfather says in his deep tone. “You are the next boss of this Family. Show them how we deal with insubordination and disrespect.”
The command is clear.
The tension that spikes up in the room is even worse, tighter than a rubber band pulled back, but I have my instructions.
I know this isn’t about me… nor is it about why I fought my cousin in the first place.
No, this is far deeper than that.
This is a tightly-ran empire.
Disobedience from the direct family line is not allowed, because it might trickle down to the rest of the Outfit.
I know all this. Grandfather taught me everything by hand… literally.
So, I turn around and stalk over slowly to where my cousin now stands, where he’s panting low and labored.
He was also raised in the Family, he knows what’s about to happen, so he braces himself to fight back with a look of defiance.
That’s the thing I respect about Vaughn… he—just like my friends here in Westbrook Blues—will always fight back, even if the odds are stacked heavily against him.
So as I draw near, he decides to charge first, but I see him coming and with a surprise swing that I kept hidden, I punch him so hard that this time, he’s staggers backwards slowly, his eyes rolling back into his head, and then he falls back hard on the floor, his body looking eerily lifeless.
I just knocked him out, something Grandfather expected me to do before.
With a frightened gasp, Emilio rushes over to his son to check if he’s still alive, but I don’t pay them any attention.
Instead, I turn around and glare at Grandfather.
He watches me silently, then after a long while, he nods, as if giving his approval.
But his approval means shit to me.
In fact, his approval was probably involved in my mother’s sudden disappearance.
I watch silently as Grandfather turns on his heel and leaves the room, then Vaughn is carried out by some of Emilio’s men, and finally, the said snake gives me a withering glare before he leaves, following his passed-out son.
I’m left alone in the room, or so I thought.
“You’re doing too much.” I glance over the left. I almost didn’t see him there. “If you’re trying to get on your grandfather’s bad side, then keep doing what you’re doing.”
I scoff.
“If you’re so concerned about pleasing him, then keep doing what you’re doing,” I grit out.
“I would if I actually had a decent son! One who's, well, fully functioning, not a ticking time bomb!” My father, Syrus Easton, steps closer to the ring, looking up at me with an angry, malicious smile on his face. “But instead, I have you. It’s just like your mother to screw everything up and then leave.”
“Don’t talk about her,” I snap.
“Oh, so now that you can talk a little bit properly, without your embarrassing speech issues, and you can punch a little harder than anyone, do you think that gives you power? Do you think that gives you leverage in the Family? Do you think you can get revenge without anyone in your damn corner?”
I hold still as my father’s words echo in my ears.
My back is on fire, every inch of my body is in pain, but at my father’s words, I fall silent because he knows that’s what I want.
“I don’t need anyone.”
He scoffs. “You and I both know you’re fucking smart and you know that’s not true. In the underbelly, you need pull to do anything, and you… without your grandfather as your backing authority, who the fuck do you think you are?”
I want to shut him down. I want to tell him off, but I know he’s right.
Everyone hates that I’m the heir. After they got rid of my mother, I know they expected Grandfather would revoke my rights but instead, he cemented my impending Don status.
Which means my father is right. Without Grandfather, doing what I want to do will be fucking hard if I have no one else in my corner.
But I already took measures for that years ago, thanks to the opening the twins provided when they moved to the estates.
There’s a reason why I never fought Syrus when he went against Grandfather for me to stay in Westbrook Blues.
But it’s not enough.
“I know you never listen to me, but I know more than you can possibly imagine,” he continues in a low but hard voice. “You need to grow the fuck up and realize that your mother left on her own! She didn’t think of you! She didn’t give a damn, but look at you, isolating yourself, making enemies within the family, ready to take revenge for a woman that will never come back.”
“You don’t know that!” I seethe.
“I do, and mark my words, you will probably not live long enough to see your little plans come to fruition,” he snaps. “You know your condition, now stay in your lane and don’t trudge up problems we can’t afford to face. You’re already the worst liability in my life as it is.”
I hold his gaze.
My chest is heaving so fast that I know the situation is critical. But I’ll be damned if I ever ask this man for help. “Yeah? Well, I’ll be sure to be the liability that finally deals with you.”
At my softly worded promise, he reels back as if in shock, but I’m not done.
“Yeah, that’s right, I fucking know. I know what you did all those years ago and you can mark my words, seal them with blood or whatever you want, but I will make you pay for what you did.”
And with that, I hop down the ring and leave.
I don’t turn back when Syrus calls my name, nor do I stop when I see most of the men watching me. Instead, I throw my hoodie on and start running.
Even though my body has been beaten and by all common sense, I shouldn’t be doing this at all, I still run. Out of the estates. Down the mountain, fleeing from everything but my sick heartbeat.
I don’t think I’m even breathing and I don’t know where I’m going, but before I know it, I’m in a strange park.
Vaguely, I remember that if dispatched, Grandfather’s men can find me easily, even though this isn’t their turf, so I go even farther, to the very back of the park where there are dense trees and hedges.
That’s when I see her.
She’s walking unsteadily, as if she’s dazed and confused.
Then I hear low whimpers and sniffles… which all makes sense when I see the tears streaming down her face.
I don’t know if I make a sound or if she does, but suddenly, she looks up and her tear-filled, pain-filled gaze crushes with mine in a way that’s more of a blow than Vaughn’s punches.
The thing in my chest groans…
“Emmett,” she gasps, her voice doing that weird thing to my blood.
Fuck.
“What are you doing here?” she croaks. Then she takes a good look at me. “Oh my God, what happened to you?”
I turn around, intending to get as far away from her as possible.
She’s one of them, the people that did irreparable damage that cold night my mother was abducted.
I take ten steps away, then I hear pattering feet behind me.
“Hey, slow down, what happened to you?” the girl questions, her voice not as it usually is.
“It’s none of your business, leave me alone!” I snap.
“But you’re all bruised and bleeding and it’s going to rain! You need medical attention.”
“And you just know everything, don’t you?”
The girl stops.
She falls silent, so silent that I have to look over my shoulder to see if she’s still there.
When I do, I see her crouched down on the ground, her tiny frame shivering and trembling as she hugs her knees to her chest.
I frown.
“What’s wrong with you?” I demand, needing an answer as quickly as possible so I can leave. Being near Ivy Marie Irving is the last thing I need right now.
The girl doesn’t answer. Instead, she starts crying, sobbing in fact. Big, heavy, messy sobs.
“If anyone comes over, they’ll think I hurt you or something,” I snap, but she keeps crying.
“Why the hell are you crying?” I demand, feeling something strange take root in the pit of my stomach.
“Emmett…” the girl cries my name. The thing in my chest thumps hard. “I’m…” Her voice drowns out as she sobs.
I have no choice but to walk back to where she is. Still unable to hear her, I crouch down to her level, then lean in as closely as I can get to her.
“What?”
“I’m sorry!” she suddenly blurts.
“Huh?” Color me fucking confused. The girl is strange… stranger than anything I’ve ever encountered, but that’s a topic for another day. “You’re sorry?”
“I am, Emmett. Please forgive me!”
Why would I— Then it hits me.
Anger ignites in my blood with a vengeance. I stand up quickly and stare down at her.
“If you’re begging me to forgive you for what you did that night, then you can fucking forget It and just wait for your punishment. You and everyone else that has it coming!”
I’ve managed to keep my hatred of Grandfather to myself, but for this girl, I’ve made it clear right from the start.
She looks up at me then. I almost get knocked down by the look in her eyes as she looks up at me.
I hate that look.
“Emmett,” she starts again, this time her voice carrying a weight and hurt I’ve never heard before. “I’m sorry. I don’t have the full details yet, but I promise to do my best to remember! When I do, I’ll help you!”
What the hell is she talking about? What help could she possibly offer?
Ivy gets up, her tiny body staggering a bit. I reach out, intending to help steady her but stop myself at the last second.
Touching her is a bad idea. Just like the dreams I have of her… bad idea.
“Just promise me something,” she goes on, grabbing my bruised, bleeding hand with hers.
It’s then that I notice her own hand is bleeding.
My body jerks and then freezes like a freaking ice block.
Without thinking, I grab her hand, pull her fingers away forcefully until her palm spreads open and what I see chills my blood.
“What is this?” I mutter, staring at the deep wound in the center of the girl’s palm. “Who did this to you?”
When she remains silent, I can’t help but deliberately grip her injured hand tighter until she cries out in pain.
“What happened to you?” I demand, each word gritted and tense.
Ivy jumps, but she keeps her mouth shut.
“Tell me, damn you! What the fuck is this? Who did this?” I step closer to examine the damage. There are other shallow slices, as if someone took a sharp but rugged-edged object and did a design in her palm… but the huge gash… Jesus.
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers.
“Like hell! Who was it?”
“No one…” she whispers, her gaze lowered as if she’s ashamed.
“I won’t ask you again.”
“It doesn’t matter, Emmett, listen to me. We don’t have much time,” she croaks, her eyes wide and full of tears.
Her urgency.
Her tears.
Her bleeding hand.
Just then, the Heavens open up and it starts pouring. Raindrops beat down on us so hard, I feel the slight pain. I look at the girl and realize that if I can feel the slight pain, then she can’t stand it.
I also eye her hair. Ivy hates being caught in the rain or going swimming without protecting her hair.
Grabbing her hand, I start running, leading her to the largest tree in the park.
Common sense would say not to stand under a tree when there’s a high chance we might be electrocuted to kingdom come, but I’m not thinking clearly right now.
In fact, I’m bothered.
Not by the pain in my body, or by the straining of the sick thing in my chest or by the weather… I’m bothered by this crying girl.
I remove my hoodie.
“This is a thunderstorm,” she whispers while looking around. “We need to get out of here.”
I pull her closer by her waist, noticing some changes. “You started wearing a bra.”
Her eyes grow as wide as saucers, then her mouth drops open.
“What? How did you…”
“You’ve always wanted to wear a bra. Are you happy about that or did you stuff tissues again?”
“Emmett!”
“You’re the only girl in your class that hasn’t started her period yet.”
“Jesus Christ… how do you know that?” she squeals, looking mortified that I know.
I’ve read her diary. I even have a copy in my room.
I should sneak back into her room and check for new entries from the last few months.
“I know everything about you… and I know you hate it when people treat you like an orphan when you believe your parents are out there, but news flash, Ivy, if they are still alive but not in your life then it means they don’t want you!”
She gasps and steps back, her eyes narrowing, but her lips keep on quivering.
“You’re wrong!”
“You’ll know soon enough,” I grit out. Am I being too harsh with her, maybe, but I’d rather she reduce her astronomical fantasies down to reality. After all, who will protect her from the harsh truth after I’m gone? Her wearing a bra now means she needs to hear this and I’ll be damned if her stupid curiosity keeps acting up. “They abandoned you. They left you. They never came back for you! Stop crying over that.”
“No, no, no, stop talking!” she cries. “They want me. They just… couldn’t raise me themselves, so they left me with Grammy.”
I eye her. Her mouth is spewing denial, but in her eyes, it’s like she’s fighting hard to keep the candle of hope burning.
“Why are you saying this to me?” she whispers.
“Because you’re wearing a bra,” I mutter right back, watching the play of emotions flash in her eyes.
“Oh, and that means I’m old enough to hear that?”
“No.” I don’t want to do this right now, but since we’re here, might as well. “It’s because I know the type of person you are.”
And that’s the kind that is stubborn as fuck.
She’s the type that when she makes up her mind to do something, she’ll do it no matter what.
It wouldn’t bother me at all if she were actually smart enough to survive her own stubbornness, but she simply isn’t.
She’s careless, reckless, has no sense of awareness to danger, and she’s just downright pathetic.
Wearing a bra wasn’t just about fitting in with the girls at her school or becoming a teenager, it’s also a goal she wanted to accomplish.
Which means the rest of the stuff she wrote down in her diary, she’ll move Heaven and earth to achieve.
I pull her back to me. “Arms up.”
“W-what?”
“You’re so pathetic and weak that I know you can’t withstand getting a cold, so freaking arms up, Angel.”
Automatically, she raises her arms and I dress her in my hoodie. It practically swallows her whole, which is good because the hood covers her hair well.
Feeling satisfied with the look of her in my clothes, I really take her in.
But more than that, obviously something’s going on here, so I say the first thing that rolls off my tongue.
“What’s going on, Angel? Did something happen at home?”
She looks up at me then, and immediately, fresh tears well up in her eyes.
Her bottom lip starts quivering even more but it’s the way she clenches her fists, blood dripping to the ground, that fucks me up.
My knees weaken as I see the pain in her eyes.
“I swear to God, if you don’t start talking?—”
“You need to promise me something,” she rushes to say, cutting me off as she grabs my hand. “Please.”
I stare into her large honey brown doe eyes and goosebumps appear on my arms and at the back of my neck.
The look in her eyes is unreal…like gentle waves flowing on the seashore…crashing and retreating, moving to the rhythm of my own heartbeat.
As I stare, I suddenly feel unsteady.
Is there an earthquake? Why is the ground shaking beneath me?
“Emmett?”
“No,” I say, discreetly shaking my head to get some sense back.
“No?” She reels back.
“Do you think I’d ever blindly enter a contract with unknown conditions? How fucking dumb do you think I am?”
Besides, I know that look in her eyes.
She’s about to disappear on me… like my mother.
“Okay, then let’s name the conditions!” she rushes to say.
“What?”
“A contract with conditions we both know, let’s do it now! Our blood has already mixed anyway, that’s a vow already,” she says in a low, hoarse voice that somehow carries above the pelting rain.
We both look down at our joined hands and notice that somewhere along this conversation, our fingers interlocked and sure enough, her blood and mine have been mixed.
“Exclusive!” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
“What?” She looks up at me quizzically, her huge brown eyes sucking me in like a freaking Hoover.
The fuck is she doing to me?
“You don’t know what exclusive means?” I mock, and she sucks in a sharp breath.
“I do!”
“Then you should know that this is nonnegotiable. One of the conditions of our contract is that it’ll be exclusive,” I mutter, feeling overly annoyed, in pain, and ready to set this world ablaze for some reason.
Her hand in mine flexes.
“So it’s just between you and me? No one else?”
I jerk my head in a nod. “Yes, but not just that.” I step even closer to her, as if compelled by something… sinister.
“When we do this, it means there’s no going back. No revoking it. No outside intervention. No one steps in. Not the law or any type of saving grace. When I want you to do something, you can never run from it.”
She looks up at me with wide eyes, looking like a drenched racoon but still captivating. “Then it means we’d own each other…”
Look at that. She’s slightly smart, this girl, but she’s a bit mistaken too.
I can’t be owned.
“Yes,” I mutter anyway. “Are you going to fucking back down? I see the fear in your eyes.”
She blinks like a freaking cartoon character, then steps closer to me. We’re both drenched already but neither of us cares.
“I’m not backing down. I agree to that, so the second?—”
“The duration, specific terms, and any and all directives of the contract will be up to me,” I say, cutting her off.
“Wait, what? Why?”
“Do I need to spell it out for you?” I deadpan. After all, she’s one of the few people that knows.
“Because you can die at any second?” she mutters, biting her lip as fresh tears well up in her eyes. “Your heart is beating just fine.”
Actually, something is wrong, but I don’t say that.
“Then forget it.”
“Wait, okay, fine!” she rushes. “But I also need a say in that as well.”
Growing impatient and lightheaded, I agree. “What would you like then?”
“You want the answer right now?”
“You’re the one who proposed this. Tell me.”
She looks around as if someone is chasing her and she needs to run. “Umm, my terms will be determined later, and you cannot disagree to them when that time comes.”
I eye her, feeling like I’m being led to jump over a steep cliff. Again.
“And the third one?” I ask her.
“The third?”
“Yes. What do you want, Angel?”
The girl looks up at me and almost abruptly, as if a frightening round of lightning just struck, I can’t breathe anymore.
The park disappears.
The rain is nothing but background noise.
Everything becomes gray… and doesn’t make sense at all.
All I see is her.
“What do I want?” she whispers in a daze.
I jerk my head in some kind of nod, but I can’t peel my eyes off of this girl… and then I see them. Two large teardrops trailing down each of her cheeks.
The pace is the same.
The size, same.
But where one goes all the way to her chin and disappears, the other teardrop just stops midway and doesn’t move at all.
That imagery fucks me up so bad, I look away from her face.
But not for long.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispers, almost brokenly… too damaged and raw to handle.
“What?”
“Don’t abandon me, Emmett. Especially you. You can’t do that to me too.”
But before I can move or say a word, a sharp, almost electrifying zap shoots through my chest.
Without a second to realize what’s happening, I’m going down…