Chapter Thirty-Three #2
Fear like I’ve never felt before slams into me. The last time I felt this helpless was two years ago, the night I lost the only three people I had ever loved. I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t keep them here with me, I failed them!
I can’t fucking fail again, not with her!
Losing my fairy would… fuck… I can’t even think about that shit.
I press my fingers to her throat, searching for a pulse.
There.
Faint. Thready. Weak.
But there.
I yank the mask off and toss it onto the grass.
“She's alive,” I choke out. “She's alive—”
But she's not breathing.
I watch her chest… no rise, no fall.
Smoke inhalation.
I tilt her head back, clear her airway, and seal my mouth over hers.
One breath. Two. Three.
Feeling her lungs inflate under my hands.
Come on. Come on, baby. Breathe.
The ceiling groans above us, about to collapse.
I lift her into my arms, still trying to get air into her lungs between steps. I feel the fire licking at my skin as I run through the inferno.
Through collapsing hallways, through flames that lick at us, through smoke so thick I'm navigating blind.
Beams crash behind us.
The window explodes to my left.
I don't care.
Only Toren matters.
I burst through the front door into blessed cool air.
My lungs seize, trying to cough and breathe at the same time.
But I'm still holding Toren.
Still trying to get her to breathe.
“Medic!” someone's screaming—it might be me. “She’s not breathing!”
Paramedics swarm us. They're trying to take her from me.
“Sir, we need to—”
“She's not breathing!” I roar. “Fix it!”
They lay her on the ground, immediately starting to work. Oxygen mask. Bag valve mask. Chest compressions.
“We have a pulse,” one says. “Weak but present. Respirations absent. Administering oxygen—”
I'm frozen.
Just standing there, watching them work on her. Watching her not breathe. Watching her lie there lifeless except for that faint pulse.
“She's not breathing,” I repeat numbly.
“Sir, we need you to step back—”
“She's not breathing.”
“Xaden.” Carnage appears beside me, his hand on my shoulder. “Let them work.”
“She's not—”
“I know,” he says in a tone thick with anguish. “Let them work.”
The paramedics are moving fast, coordinated, and professional.
One's bagging her, forcing air into her lungs manually. Another's checking vitals, calling out numbers I don't understand. A third is preparing the gurney.
“We need to transport now,” one says urgently. “She needs a hospital.” They lift her onto the gurney, still bagging her, still calling out vitals.
I try to follow.
My legs don't work.
I'm just... standing there.
Frozen.
Watching them load her into the ambulance.
Watching them close the doors.
Watching them drive away with lights and sirens.
And she wasn't breathing.
She wasn't breathing and I couldn't fix it.
“Boss?” Andrade appears in front of me, concern written all over his face. “Boss, you need to get in a vehicle. We'll take you to the hospital—”
“She wasn't breathing,” I say.
“I know. But they're helping her—”
“She wasn't breathing and I couldn't—I couldn't—”
The words won't come. I can't explain how I'm breaking apart. How that moment felt when I couldn't find her pulse. When I thought she was dead.
When I saw her just... sitting there... not moving...
It was worse than Em.
So much worse.
“Xaden,” Carnage is in front of me now, blocking my view of the burning mansion. “We need to move. Get you to the hospital. You need to be there when she wakes up.”
“She wasn't breathing,” I repeat.
“I know,” he says. “But she had a pulse. That means she can come back. She will come back. But you need to get to that hospital.”
I should.
I know I should.
But I can't move.
Can't make my legs work.
All I can see is her sitting there.
Lifeless.
Not breathing.
Gone.
“I can't,” I force out.
“What?” Carnage looks confused.
“I can't—I can't go there. Can't watch her—can't—”
I'm breaking.
Shattering.
All the violence, blood and death I just inflicted means nothing.
All the lips in my pockets are meaningless.
Because Toren wasn't breathing.
And I thought I lost her.
“Get him in a vehicle,” I hear Carnage order someone. “Take him anywhere but here before the cops show up and see him covered in blood.”
Hands on my arms, guiding me.
I let them.
Let them put me in a SUV.
Let them drive.
I don't know where we're going.
I don't care.
I just sit there, covered in blood—theirs, mine and hers—with lips in my pockets and ash on my skin.
And all I can see is her face.
Lifeless.
Not breathing.
Gone.
We end up at the boxing gym. I don't remember telling them to come here.
But it makes sense. This is where I come to beat the darkness back.
Except tonight, the darkness won. I get out and head inside on autopilot.
The gym is empty, dark… just like how I feel.
I stand in the middle of the ring, fists clenched, trying to breathe.
Trying not to see her face. Trying not to remember how still she was. How she wasn't breathing.
Worse than Em.
The thought keeps circling. Losing Toren was worse than losing Em.
How is that possible?
How can losing someone I've known for months hurt more than losing my sister?
“Because you're in love with her.”
I turn to see Cas hobbling in, his crutch clicking on concrete.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice hollow.
“Same thing you are,” he says. “Trying not to fall apart.”
He makes his way to the ring, awkward with the cast, and leans against the ropes.
“She wasn't breathing,” I say.
“I know.”
“I thought she was dead.”
“I know.”
“It was worse than Emery,” I admit, and the confession feels like betrayal. “When I thought she was dead, it was worse than losing my sister. What kind of fucking monster does that make me?”